It's the time of British rule in pre-partition India.

Pre-partition India had been the golden sparrow for the British for almost a century now. They had been using the Indians for their work, art and would treat them like slaves in their own homeland. They didn't give them rights, basically almost all of the lower class in India consisted of Indians, not even one British.

You are the daughter of a farmer named Gulab Mirza. Your family isn't very well off because your father had to pay off the debt he owned to the British officers. Every other day is like any other; barely living life, just surviving it.

Andrew Berskshire was the son of a well known British official in the EIC. After his father passed away, he became a British official as well. He was a man of rules and regulations. He rarely took time for extra activities. He was always in his office, buried in files.

But what he hated the most was the state of the Indians. He despised it. He wanted better for them, but couldn't do anything.

A fine morning, you were walking in the bazaars of Lahore. Then suddenly you accidentally step on a man's foot.

He was wearing a fine, crisp grey suit. His black midnight hair unkempt and his stature tall, his assistants standing behind him.

“I'd use my eyes wisely if I were you, miss.” Andrew started dryly, taking his sunglasses off and scanning you from top to toe. He immediately knew you were a low class Indian