“No… no…

 I’ll do whatever you say—please… not her.”

My voice was breaking. My hands were shaking.

“Please… please leave her.”

Her scream tore through me.

“It hurts… it hurts so much… please stop.”

Blood. Too much blood.

“Reyh… save me,” she cried, her voice barely a whisper now.

 “Reyh… please.”

I grabbed her hands desperately.

“I’ll save you,” I said, choking on my words. “Don’t worry. Just hold on, Shree. Please… just a few minutes.”

Her fingers trembled in mine.

“Reyh… it’s hurting so bad,” she whispered. “I can’t hold on anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” I begged. “Don’t you dare say that.”

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Shree… open your eyes,” I pleaded, panic clawing at my chest.

 “Look at me. Stay with me.”

No response.

Her body went limp in my arms.

Cold.

Still.

Lifeless.

“Shree…” I whispered.

Nothing.

“Shree, wake up,” I said louder, shaking her gently.

 “Please… don’t leave me.”

Silence.

My chest felt like it was being crushed.

“SHREEEEE!” I screamed.

“NOOOOOO.......”

I woke with a violent jerk.

My breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving as though I'd sprinted miles through darkness. My heart hammered against my ribs with such force I half-expected it to tear through flesh and bone, escaping the cage that held it prisoner.

I looked around, disoriented.

My room materialized through the shadows, familiar, yet somehow foreign in these predawn hours. The darkness pressed against the windows like something living, something patient. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by my labored breathing and the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

The digital clock on my nightstand blinked in neon red: 4:34 A.M.

Sweat soaked through my shirt, clinging to my skin like a second layer. I ran my hand over my face, and my palm came away slick and wet. My fingers trembled, just slightly, just enough to notice.

It was just a dream.

Just another nightmare.

But God, the pain had felt real. Too real. The kind of real that lingered even after you opened your eyes, that stayed embedded in your chest like shrapnel you couldn't quite remove.

I sat up slowly, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My elbows found my knees, and I bowed my head, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes until I saw stars. For several long moments, I just breathed, slow, controlled breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The kind of measured breathing that kept monsters locked inside where they belonged.

The kind that kept kings from crumbling.

After what felt like an eternity, I stood and walked to the bathroom. The marble floor was cool beneath my bare feet, grounding me back to reality. I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face again and again, each handful a small shock to my system, washing away the remnants of whatever hell I'd been trapped in.

When I finally looked up at my reflection, I saw exactly what I expected to see.

Same sharp jaw, shadowed with stubble.

Same dark eyes, unreadable, impenetrable, giving nothing away.

Same face of a king who never breaks.

Except... I was already broken, wasn't I?

The fractures just didn't show. Not to them. Not to anyone.

I stared at myself for another moment, then turned away. There was no point in dwelling. There never was.

After my morning routine, a mechanical series of movements I could perform in my sleep, I dressed for the gym. Black shorts, moisture-wicking shirt, shoes laced tight. Armor of a different sort.

Let me introduce myself properly.

I am Reyansh Rathore.........

King of Rajasthan, though the title is more ceremonial than anything else these days.

COO of RAI Group of Industries, one of the largest conglomerates in India, with interests spanning real estate, hospitality, technology, and manufacturing.

And... I am The Wraith.

You'll learn what that means in time. For now, know that it's the part of me that operates in shadows, that moves through spaces where light doesn't reach, that does the things kings aren't supposed to do.

The things that keep kingdoms safe.

The gym was my sanctuary.

Located in the east wing of our estate, it was a sprawling space filled with state-of-the-art equipment, a personal kingdom where I could wage war against my own demons. The only place where pain was allowed to surface, where it could be channeled and disguised as something else.

As strength.

I started with weights. The familiar clang of metal against metal, the burn spreading through my muscles like wildfire. I pushed myself harder than necessary, lifting until my arms shook, until sweat poured down my face and back, until my body screamed for mercy I wouldn't grant.

With every lift, I released frustration.

With every rep, I channeled rage.

With every set, I reminded myself of control.

Then came the heavy bag. I wrapped my hands methodically, the ritual as important as the workout itself, and began to strike. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. My knuckles connected with the leather surface in a rhythm that was almost meditative. The bag swung under the force of my blows, chains creaking overhead.

With every punch, anxiety drained.

With every combination, fear dissipated.

With every breath, I reminded myself.......

Kings don't collapse.

Kings endure.

By the time I finished, my body was drenched and exhausted, but my mind was clearer. The nightmare had receded to wherever nightmares go when daylight threatens.

At 7:00 A.M., I left the gym and headed for a long, much-needed shower. The hot water pounded against my shoulders, washing away the sweat and tension, though some things ran too deep to be cleansed by water alone.

When I finally stepped out and began to dress for the day, charcoal gray tailored suit, crisp white shirt, cufflinks engraved with the Rathore crest, watch clasped around my wrist, I looked exactly like the man the world expected me to be.

Controlled.

Unshaken.

Unreachable.

A king.

As I walked into the living area, I was greeted by a scene of domestic warmth that contrasted sharply with the ice that sometimes settled in my chest. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the faces of my family gathered in the spacious room.

"Good morning, everyone," I said, keeping my tone casual, pleasant.

"Good morning, beta," Maa replied warmly, her face lighting up at the sight of me.

Before I could make it to the breakfast table, that short woman, my mother, all five feet two inches of determination and love, grabbed my arm and practically dragged me to the couch.

I sighed inwardly, already knowing what was coming.

Here we go.

Dada ji sat in his favorite chair, the morning newspaper folded beside him. He adjusted his reading glasses and smiled sheepishly, the expression so familiar it made my chest tighten with affection despite myself.

"You know, Reyansh," he began, his voice carrying that particular tone that meant a lecture was imminent, "your Maa and Badi Maa have been stressing far too much lately. Late nights, early mornings, doing nothing but thinking about your marriage." He paused for effect. "If they continue like this, they'll grow old and gray before your wedding even happens."

I rubbed my temples, feeling the beginning of a headache.

"Maa," I said, turning to her with all the calm I could muster, "how many times have I told you? I don't want to get married right now. Why are you putting your health at risk over this?"

She looked at me with those soft brown eyes that had comforted me through childhood scraped knees and adult nightmares alike.

"I'm not stressing, beta," she said honestly, reaching over to touch my hand. "I just... I want to see you happy. Truly happy. With your life partner. With someone who can share your burdens, your joys. You carry too much alone."

The sincerity in her voice made it impossible to argue. I didn't reply. I only shook my head gently, unable to explain that happiness felt like a luxury I couldn't afford, a dream reserved for men who weren't haunted by things they couldn't name.

We moved to the dining table soon after. The trio.....my cousins Abhiman, Ritu, and Ansh bhai, joined us, still half-asleep and moving like zombies toward the promise of coffee and food. Breakfast began with the usual clatter of plates and quiet conversation.

Then the silence shifted.

Dada ji cleared his throat, his tone turning stern. "Reyansh," he said, and every eye at the table turned toward me. "You don't want to get married?"

The air in the room changed, becoming heavier, more expectant.

"When did I say I don't want to get married?" I replied evenly, meeting his gaze without flinching.

"But you reject every girl we talk about," Badi Maa interjected, concern etching lines across her face. "Every single one. We're running out of suitable matches, beta."

"I didn't like any of them," I said simply, taking a sip of my coffee.

Suddenly, Uncle Anil leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Are you interested in boys?"

The question hung in the air for one stunned second.

Then the room erupted.

Ansh bhai laughed so hard he actually held his stomach, nearly choking on his toast. Ritu dissolved into giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. Even Abhiman, usually so composed, couldn't suppress his quiet laughter.

Maa and Badi Maa exchanged glances and shook their heads, smiling despite themselves.

"I'm completely fine with a son-in-law too!" my father announced cheerfully, reaching across the table to high-five Chachu with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Even I couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Leave it to my family to turn a serious conversation into comedy.

"But seriously, Reyansh," Ansh said once the laughter had died down, his tone softer now, more genuine. "What kind of girl do you want? Just tell us. Give us something to work with. Maa and Choti Maa will find someone accordingly."

I placed my juice glass down slowly, carefully, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. They all watched me, waiting.

"I don't want perfection," I began, my voice deep and steady. "I don't want a checklist of qualities....educated, beautiful, accomplished, traditional. I don't need a resume."

Everyone listened intently now, even the trio paying attention.

"I trust you," I continued, looking around the table at these people who loved me despite my flaws, despite my distance. "Whoever you choose will be the best for me. You know me. You know what I need, even if I don't always know it myself."

Then I paused, and my voice hardened with unmistakable authority.

"But there's one condition."

They stiffened slightly, recognizing the shift in my tone.

"Don't go to her house for the proposal until I give you permission. Not until I've met her myself, assessed the situation, made my own judgment."

Confusion flickered across several faces.

"I don't want society gossiping about her if I reject her for personal reasons," I explained, my voice firm and brooking no argument. "I don't want people questioning her character, her appearance, her worth, her family's honor..just because I said no."

I let my gaze sweep across the table, making sure they understood.

"You all know exactly how our society is. How cruel people can be, especially to women. How a rejected marriage proposal can follow a girl like a stain, affecting her future prospects, her reputation. I will not be the reason a woman is humiliated or her life is made more difficult. I refuse to be that man."

The silence that followed was profound.

Then Abhiman spoke, his voice filled with pride. "That's exactly why you're my role model, bhai."

Something in my chest loosened slightly at his words, though I didn't let it show.

I stood up, checking my watch. "I need to leave for the office."

As I reached the main gate, my phone buzzed. The screen displayed "Sahil"...my personal assistant and one of the few people who dared to speak to me without a filter.

"Where are you, Rajasa?" he barked the moment I answered, using the nickname only he was brave enough to employ. "We have a meeting at eleven, and I need to leave for my wife after that. She's got a doctor's appointment. Get here fast."

And he hung up.

Just like that.

I stared at the phone for a moment, then shook my head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

Even my PA had zero fear of me. 

Sometimes I wondered if that said more about him or about the carefully constructed image I maintained....so controlled that people either feared me or felt comfortable enough to forget they should.

I settled into my Rolls-Royce Boat Tail, the door closing with that satisfying, substantial sound that only came with true craftsmanship. The interior smelled of leather and luxury, a cocoon of royalty blended with modern elegance.

I'd bought this car when I was twenty-one, right after closing a five-million-dollar trade...my first truly massive deal, negotiated entirely on my own without family connections or influence. Just strategy, patience, and calculated risk.

Initially, I had wanted to donate all that money. It seemed excessive, unnecessary. There were charities that could use it, causes that needed funding, people who would benefit far more than I would from another luxury purchase.

But Dada ji had stopped me.

I could still remember that conversation in his study, surrounded by books and the smell of his pipe tobacco.

"We work hard for our family, Reyansh," he had said, his voice gentle but firm. "And if we earn extra beyond our needs, we share it. Give to those who need it. You've always done that, and I'm immensely proud of your generous heart."

He'd paused, studying me over his reading glasses.

"But you also have a life. Dreams. Desires. You're allowed to spend on yourself sometimes, beta. To enjoy the fruits of your labor. One day, responsibility will cage your soul in ways you cannot yet imagine."

Then he'd added words that still echoed in my mind, especially on mornings like this.

"When you fully become king when the weight of the crown settles completely on your shoulders you won't have time to dream. You won't have space for yourself. Every decision will be for others, every action measured against duty. So while you can, while you still have moments that belong only to you... take them."

That day, I'd bought this car.

And even now, five years later, every time I slid behind the wheel, it reminded me of something important.

That before the crown, before the titles, before the responsibilities that threatened to consume me whole...

I was human.

Just a man with dreams.

Just a son who wanted to make his family proud.

Just a boy who sometimes woke up screaming from nightmares he couldn't explain.

I started the engine, and it purred to life....smooth, powerful, controlled.

Just like I needed to be.

The gates opened before me, and I drove out into the morning, leaving the sanctuary of home behind and donning the armor of The King, The COO, The Wraith.

Ready to face whatever the day would bring.

Ready to be everything everyone needed me to be.

Even if I was still figuring out who I was beneath it all.

Here is the first chapter hope you liked it....