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The silence of the night was deafening. The dim light from the corridor flickered, casting eerie shadows across the hallway. Little Vayran, no older than eight, held a toy car in his hand as he tiptoed toward his parents' room. His tiny feet made no sound on the cold marble floor, but his heart thudded loudly against his ribs.

The door to his parents' room was ajar. Faintly, he could hear the creaking sound of the fan turning slowly. He pushed the door open.

“Mom?” his soft voice broke the stillness.

The sight before him made the toy car slip from his trembling hands. There she was—his mother—swaying gently from the ceiling fan, her dupatta tied tightly around her neck. Her once warm, loving eyes were lifeless now.

“No! Maa!” Vayran screamed, running toward her. He tugged at her legs, his small hands struggling to pull her down. His sobs echoed in the room. “Wake up! You promised you'd never leave me! Maa!”

Footsteps thundered down the hallway as his dadasa stormed into the room. The older man froze in place, his face ashen. “No…no…this can’t be,” he whispered, rushing to grab the little boy who was clinging to his mother’s feet.

“She’s dead,” dadasa murmured, his voice shaky yet resigned.

“No! She’s not! You’re lying!” Vayran screamed, struggling in his dadasa’s grip. Tears streamed down his face, and his cries pierced through the night. “Maa! Please wake up! You said you’d always be with me! Maa!”

The fan creaked once more. The room spun in chaos. His cries echoed in his mind until—

Vayran woke with a jolt. His chest heaved, his body drenched in sweat. He clutched the bed sheets tightly, his breathing uneven as his surroundings came into focus. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated his sharp features, his jaw clenched tight.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes momentarily. But even with his eyes shut, the haunting image of his mother’s lifeless body remained vivid.

“You didn’t do it,” he whispered to himself, his voice raw with pain and fury. “You told me—again and again—not to let life defeat me. You wouldn’t have done this, Maa. You wouldn’t have taken your own life.”

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His lips twisted into a bitter smirk as he continued, his tone dark. “I know who was behind it. I’ve always known. And I swear on your memory, Maa…I won’t let them live in peace. They’ll beg for mercy, but I’ll destroy them.”

The weight of his promise bore down on him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He poured himself a glass of water, but his hands shook so much that half of it spilled onto the floor.

In the dim light, Vayran’s face was a storm of emotions—rage, sorrow, and a deep yearning for justice. As he stared out of the window into the dark night, his thoughts swirled like a hurricane.

The room was bathed in dim, golden light from the bedside lamp. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, but Vayran couldn’t bring himself to feel any of the cold it offered. Beads of sweat still clung to his forehead, his heart racing from the nightmare that refused to leave his mind.

He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to calm his breathing, but every time he closed his eyes, the scene played over and over—his mother’s lifeless body, the deafening silence of the room, and the sound of his own cries echoing through the house.

With a frustrated sigh, he threw off the blanket and sat on the nearby sofa, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared into the distance. But his gaze shifted when it landed on Aaravika, who was lying on the bed, her face turned toward him, her breathing steady.

Her IV drip had been removed earlier because she had stubbornly insisted her hand was feeling numb. Vayran had argued, but she’d been too adamant, her fiery temper refusing to let him win. He had finally given in, staying close to her to make sure she was fine.

His hardened features softened as he observed her now, her face illuminated by the faint light. She looked peaceful, almost innocent—so unlike the Aaravika who threw tantrums, snapped at him, and constantly challenged his control. He leaned back against the sofa, wondering how someone so difficult could seem so vulnerable in sleep.

But then, her brows furrowed. Her breathing grew uneven, and beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. His eyes narrowed. He recognized the signs of a nightmare.

“Aaravika,” he murmured, standing up and walking toward her. He hesitated for a moment before sitting beside her, his hand hovering over her head. With a sigh, he finally placed it gently on her hair, caressing it softly.

“Shh…it’s just a dream,” he whispered, his voice low and unfamiliar to even himself. He didn’t understand why he was doing this—why he wanted to comfort her, why he wanted to protect her even though she fought him at every turn.

As she stirred, her lips parted, and she began mumbling incoherently. Vayran bent down slightly, trying to catch what she was saying.

“Police…” she whispered faintly. “I’ll call the police…”

For a moment, his lips twitched into a faint smile, and a low chuckle escaped him.

His mind drifted to the first time she’d said those words. It had been a week into their contract marriage. Furious at him for something trivial, she had stormed into the hall, phone in hand, declaring she would call the police and have him arrested for harassment.

Flashback

“You think you can control me, Vayran Singh Chandravansh? Watch me!” Aaravika had yelled, her face red with anger.

“And what exactly do you plan to say to them?” he had asked, arms crossed, his voice laced with amusement.

“That you’re a tyrant! A manipulative, egotistical, controlling monster!” she had screamed, jabbing her finger in his direction.

“Go ahead,” he had said, shrugging, as he leaned casually against the wall. “Call them. Let’s see what happens.”

She had immediately dialled the number, glaring at him with defiance in her eyes.

A few minutes later, the police had arrived. But as Aaravika had confidently stepped forward to explain, the officers had turned to Vayran, bowing slightly in respect.

“Sir, is there a problem?” one of them had asked.

Aaravika had been stunned. “W-What? He’s the problem!”

The officer had looked uncomfortable but stood firm. “Ma’am, we suggest you resolve this matter privately. Mr. Chandravansh is a respected figure, and we’re sure there’s a misunderstanding.”

The smirk on Vayran’s face had been infuriating as he watched the colour drain from Aaravika’s face. “The police are under my control, Aaravika. Next time, pick a better strategy.”

“You…” she had sputtered, pointing at him, her fury palpable.

But he had simply turned and walked away, leaving her to seethe.

Present

Vayran straightened, the memory pulling a faint smile to his lips again. Even in her sleep, she was as fiery as ever. But his smile faded as he focused back on her restless form.

Her mumbles quieted under his touch, and she seemed to relax slightly, her breathing evening out. He continued to run his fingers gently through her hair, hoping it would lull her into a deeper, more peaceful sleep.

“What’s haunting you, Aaravika?” he murmured to himself. “Three nightmares in two days…”

The thought unsettled him. Aaravika was the type to bottle things up, to fight her battles alone, but he could see the cracks in her armour. And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, it bothered him.

“Maybe…” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

He sat beside her for a long time, watching as her features smoothed out and her breathing steadied. She looked calm now, but the weight of whatever haunted her hadn’t vanished—it was simply tucked away for another day.

As he leaned back against the sofa, his own mind returned to the darkness that clung to him. Aaravika wasn’t the only one fighting demons in the shadows.

And while he’d vowed to destroy the person responsible for his mother’s death, a part of him wondered if Aaravika could ever forgive him for the monster he had to become to do it.

For now, he sat silently beside her, caught in the twisted web of vengeance, guilt, and the faintest glimmer of something he refused to name.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The room was quiet again. Aaravika’s soft breathing filled the space, her features calm after her nightmare subsided. Vayran’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before a vibration on the table broke the silence.

His jaw tightened as he leaned forward, picking up the phone. The name “Dharam” flashed across the screen. His smirk grew dark as he swiped to answer.

“It’s done,” Dharam said on the other end, his voice calm but carrying a weight of authority. “We were successful. The plan worked exactly as expected. Should we proceed?”

Vayran’s smirk deepened, his voice low and edged with menace. “Good. Inform the others that the meeting begins now. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call, placing the phone back on the table. His sharp gaze flicked back to Aaravika, who remained oblivious to the storm that brewed around her. His expression softened briefly, but it was fleeting, replaced by the cold, calculating demeanour he wore like armour.

He adjusted his shirt, slipped on his jacket, and stepped out of the room. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, each one heavier than the last, as if carrying the weight of his dual life—pretending to be a husband to Aaravika by day, a ruthless underworld leader by night.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The location was an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city, its broken windows and crumbling walls a perfect facade for the power that lurked within. The scent of rust and decay hung in the air, mingling with the low murmur of voices as men dressed in black suits gathered around a long wooden table.

Vayran entered the room, his presence commanding instant silence. His piercing gaze swept over the faces seated at the table—each one a kingpin of their respective domain, their loyalty sworn to him.

Dharam, his right-hand man, stood at the head of the table, waiting for Vayran to take his seat.

“So,” Vayran began, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge. “It seems our little message was received loud and clear.”

A low chuckle rippled through the group. One of the men, a burly figure with scars crisscrossing his face, spoke up. “The minister’s son was practically begging for mercy before we even started.”

Vayran leaned back in his chair, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. “Did you make it clear that defiance comes with consequences?”

Dharam nodded. “Crystal clear. The money has been transferred to our account, and the project in the south is back on track. But there’s…a complication.”

Vayran’s smile vanished. “What kind of complication?”

“The minister’s son mentioned a name,” Dharam said, his tone cautious. “Rehaan. He claims Rehaan is planning to move against us.”

The air grew thick with tension. Vayran’s fingers drummed against the table as he processed the information. Rehaan had been a thorn in his side for years—a rival who refused to bow to his power.

A sinister smile returned to Vayran’s face. “Rehaan thinks he can challenge me?” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Let him try. He’ll regret ever stepping into my world.”

“What’s the plan, boss?” one of the men asked, his voice betraying a mix of fear and respect.

Vayran leaned forward, his eyes glinting with malice. “We don’t wait for Rehaan to make his move. Dharam, I want his operations burned to the ground—his warehouses, his shipments, everything. Make sure there’s nothing left for him to salvage.”

Dharam nodded. “Consider it done.”

“And as for Rehaan himself…” Vayran’s voice dropped, chilling the room. “I want him alive. But just barely. Bring him to me, and I’ll make an example of him that no one will forget.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared question him.

“We have a another situation too,” Dharam began, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Vayran leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin. “Speak.”

“The shipment from Dubai was intercepted. Half the containers never made it to the docks,” Dharam said.

A murmur of unease rippled through the room. Vayran’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as the words sank in.

“Intercepted by whom?” Vayran asked, his voice calm but deadly.

“We’re still confirming, but initial intel points to an underground syndicate that’s been growing quietly in the shadows,” Dharam replied. “They call themselves Nirakar—faceless. They’ve been hitting operations across the globe, dismantling networks without leaving a trace.”

Vayran’s smirk was cold and calculated. “Faceless. How poetic. Let’s see how they fare when I force their faces into the light.”

“They left a message,” Dharam added hesitantly, sliding a small black envelope across the table.

Vayran picked it up, his fingers deftly opening it. Inside was a single card with a blood-red emblem and the words:
“Your throne is not earned. The faceless will take what’s ours.”

Vayran’s laugh was low and chilling, a sound that sent a shiver down the spine of everyone in the room. “They think they can question my reign? Let them. It will make crushing them all the more satisfying.”

One of the men, a grizzled veteran of the underworld, spoke up. “Boss, they’re hitting us from the inside. Whoever they are, they have information about our operations. It’s someone close.”

The room fell silent as Vayran’s gaze swept over the men around the table. “A traitor,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.

“We’ll find them,” Dharam assured.

“You won’t just find them,” Vayran corrected, his tone sharp. “You’ll drag them to me, alive. And once I have them, I’ll make sure they beg for death before I’m through.”

The meeting shifted focus, but Vayran’s mind was already racing. The idea of a new player in the game was irritating enough, but the suggestion of betrayal within his own ranks was a wound to his pride.

“Double security on all shipments,” he ordered. “Increase surveillance on everyone connected to the network. I want every corner of this syndicate uncovered.”

“Yes, boss,” Dharam replied.

“And Dharam,” Vayran added, his voice low, “find out how deep this betrayal goes. Start with the ones closest to me.”

Dharam hesitated for a fraction of a second but nodded. “Understood.”

As the meeting dispersed, Vayran stepped into the shadows of his private office, his mind heavy with thoughts. The envelope sat on his desk, the emblem taunting him.

He picked up his phone and dialed a secure number. The voice on the other end answered immediately.

“Boss.”

“Spread the word,” Vayran said, his voice cold and unrelenting. “Anyone connected to this syndicate, anyone even whispering their name, is to be eliminated. No mercy. No exceptions.”

“Understood.”

“And Dharam,” he added, “if this betrayal goes deeper than expected, I want the entire branch cut off. Let them know what happens to those who think they can bite the hand that feeds them.”

He hung up, his expression unreadable. His fingers grazed the edges of the card once more before he crushed it in his hand.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Vayran pushed the door open quietly, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Aaravika was sitting against the headboard, her medical book balanced on her knees, her fingers idly turning the pages as she read. The faint traces of exhaustion clung to her features, but her stubborn determination shone brighter.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence.

Aaravika looked up, startled for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him. “I am resting. Reading doesn’t count as not resting,” she replied, her tone defensive.

Vayran stepped closer, his gaze unwavering as he loomed over her. “You’re sick. That means no books, no arguments, just sleep.”

She closed the book with a soft thud and folded her arms. “I’m not a child, Vayran. I can decide what’s best for me.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes held an edge of impatience. “Really? Because last time I checked, you couldn’t even stay upright for ten minutes without looking like you’d pass out.”

Aaravika opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, silencing her. “You need to sleep,” he said firmly. “Your body needs rest, and if you don’t give it that, it’ll take longer for you to recover.”

She hesitated, her defiance faltering under his piercing gaze. “Fine,” she muttered, setting the book aside. “But only because I’m too tired to argue with you.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s a first.”

She shot him a glare but slid down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over herself. Vayran adjusted the pillow behind her head, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone so used to violence and command.

“Good,” he said, stepping back and turning off the bedside lamp. “Now sleep.”

Aaravika’s eyes fluttered shut, but before he could turn to leave, she grumbled under her breath. “You’re so annoying.”

Vayran’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as he slowly turned back to her. He leaned in just enough to be dangerously close, his breath warm against her skin.

“If you keep protesting, I’ll kiss you,” he said, his voice a low growl.

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