Kashish sat in his expansive office, the dim light from the chandelier casting long shadows across the room. His emerald-green eyes were cold, calculating, as he stared at the file his assistant had placed before him.
"Everything is here, sir," the assistant said, stepping back nervously. He had learned never to disturb Kashish when he was reviewing information—especially when it concerned someone important.
Without a word, Kashish flipped open the file.
Anshika Nahyan.
The name alone made something shift inside him. He read through the neatly typed words, absorbing every little detail.
Age: 20 years old
College: 2nd year
Course: Computer Science
Loves: Computers and Dance
Close Friend: Ritika Chauhan and Agastya Chandravansh
Connection with Agastya: her senior in 11th.
Family Details: Father – Dev Nahyan, Step-Mother – Reema Nahyan, Step-Sister – Siya Nahyan
His fingers tightened around the edge of the file when he read about her family.
A father who didn't care. A stepmother and stepsister who made her life miserable.
Kashish leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. How had she survived in such a house without breaking? She had no one to truly call her own—except Agastya and his family.
His gaze darkened.
Why did that bother him so much?
Then, his eyes landed on one more detail.
Her college.
A slow smirk formed on his lips.
The college she studied in—the very place she spent most of her days—was owned by him.
The realization sent a thrill through his veins. She was already in his world.
It wouldn't be hard to see her, to watch over her. If he visited the college under the pretense of an inspection, no one would question it.
His Jaan... his innocent Jaan... she wouldn't even realize that the monster lurking in the shadows had set his sights on her.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
His head snapped up, his irritation clear. "What?"
One of his guards entered swiftly, bowing slightly. "Sir, we found him."
Kashish's smirk widened. He shut the file with a soft thud, pushing it aside as he stood up.
"Good," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's not keep him waiting, then."
At Basement
The air in the basement was thick with the scent of sweat and blood. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows across the concrete walls, and in the center of the room sat a man—tied to a chair, his face battered, his breathing uneven.
Arun Mehta.
The man who had tried to betray him.
Kashish stepped inside, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. His men stood at attention as he approached the trembling figure in the chair.
"Did you really think," Kashish said, his voice low and deadly, "that you could sell my secrets and walk away?"
Arun coughed, blood trickling from his lips. "K-Kashish, please... I—"
A sharp crack echoed in the room as Kashish delivered a punch to his jaw, sending his head snapping to the side.
The man whimpered, his body trembling. "I-I was forced—"
"Forced?" Kashish let out a dark chuckle, stepping back. He turned to one of his men. "Bring the blade."
Within seconds, a knife was placed in his hands. He twirled it lazily, watching as Arun's eyes widened in horror.
"You tried to sell me out," Kashish murmured, dragging the cold steel against Arun's cheek. "And now... you pay the price."
Screams filled the room, but they were quickly muffled. Kashish worked swiftly, efficiently. He enjoy torture. Fear was a tool—one he wielded well.
When the body slumped forward, lifeless, Kashish let out a satisfied sigh. He wiped the blood from his hands onto a cloth, discarding it carelessly.
"Clean this up," he ordered, turning to his men.
Then, without a second glance, he walked away.
At Home
By the time Kashish arrived home, it was past midnight. He stepped inside, running a hand through his hair, exhausted but satisfied. The day had been productive.
But the moment he entered, he froze.
His mother was standing in the living room, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on him.
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Kashish sighed. "Work, Maa."
She didn't look convinced. "You think I don't know what kind of work you do?"
He smirked slightly. "Then why ask?"
His mother pursed her lips but didn't push further. Instead, she tilted her head. "That day at the wedding... you called someone 'Jaan'."
Kashish stiffened.
He kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. Had she noticed?
His mother took a step closer. "Who is she?"
Kashish exhaled slowly, then forced a casual shrug. "I don't know why I said that. It was a mistake."
A lie.
A well-crafted, perfectly delivered lie.
But his mother wasn't a fool. She narrowed her eyes. "You're hiding something."
Kashish chuckled, shaking his head. "Maa, you're overthinking."
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she studied him carefully, as if trying to read his soul.
Then, just as he was about to excuse himself, she suddenly smirked. "Fine. But remember, Kashish—one day, I will find out who she is."
Kashish felt a flicker of amusement. His mother was smart, but he was smarter.
"Good luck with that," he said smoothly before turning away.
He had far more important things to do than entertain her curiosity.
Family Details: Father – Dev Nahyan, Step-Mother – Reema Nahyan, Step-Sister – Siya Nahyan
His fingers tightened around the edge of the file when he read about her family.
A father who didn't care. A stepmother and stepsister who made her life miserable.
Kashish leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. How had she survived in such a house without breaking? She had no one to truly call her own—except Agastya and his family.
His gaze darkened.
Why did that bother him so much?
Then, his eyes landed on one more detail.
Her college.
A slow smirk formed on his lips.
The college she studied in—the very place she spent most of her days—was owned by him.
The realization sent a thrill through his veins. She was already in his world.
It wouldn't be hard to see her, to watch over her. If he visited the college under the pretense of an inspection, no one would question it.
His Jaan... his innocent Jaan... she wouldn't even realize that the monster lurking in the shadows had set his sights on her.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.
His head snapped up, his irritation clear. "What?"
One of his guards entered swiftly, bowing slightly. "Sir, we found him."
Kashish's smirk widened. He shut the file with a soft thud, pushing it aside as he stood up.
"Good," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's not keep him waiting, then."
At Basement
The air in the basement was thick with the scent of sweat and blood. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows across the concrete walls, and in the center of the room sat a man—tied to a chair, his face battered, his breathing uneven.
Arun Mehta.
The man who had tried to betray him.
Kashish stepped inside, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. His men stood at attention as he approached the trembling figure in the chair.
"Did you really think," Kashish said, his voice low and deadly, "that you could sell my secrets and walk away?"
Arun coughed, blood trickling from his lips. "K-Kashish, please... I—"
A sharp crack echoed in the room as Kashish delivered a punch to his jaw, sending his head snapping to the side.
The man whimpered, his body trembling. "I-I was forced—"
"Forced?" Kashish let out a dark chuckle, stepping back. He turned to one of his men. "Bring the blade."
Within seconds, a knife was placed in his hands. He twirled it lazily, watching as Arun's eyes widened in horror.
"You tried to sell me out," Kashish murmured, dragging the cold steel against Arun's cheek. "And now... you pay the price."
Screams filled the room, but they were quickly muffled. Kashish worked swiftly, efficiently. He enjoy torture. Fear was a tool—one he wielded well.
When the body slumped forward, lifeless, Kashish let out a satisfied sigh. He wiped the blood from his hands onto a cloth, discarding it carelessly.
"Clean this up," he ordered, turning to his men.
Then, without a second glance, he walked away.
At Home
By the time Kashish arrived home, it was past midnight. He stepped inside, running a hand through his hair, exhausted but satisfied. The day had been productive.
But the moment he entered, he froze.
His mother was standing in the living room, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on him.
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Kashish sighed. "Work, Maa."
She didn't look convinced. "You think I don't know what kind of work you do?"
He smirked slightly. "Then why ask?"
His mother pursed her lips but didn't push further. Instead, she tilted her head. "That day at the wedding... you called someone 'Jaan'."
Kashish stiffened.
He kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. Had she noticed?
His mother took a step closer. "Who is she?"
Kashish exhaled slowly, then forced a casual shrug. "I don't know why I said that. It was a mistake."
A lie.
A well-crafted, perfectly delivered lie.
But his mother wasn't a fool. She narrowed her eyes. "You're hiding something."
Kashish chuckled, shaking his head. "Maa, you're overthinking."
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she studied him carefully, as if trying to read his soul.
Then, just as he was about to excuse himself, she suddenly smirked. "Fine. But remember, Kashish—one day, I will find out who she is."
Kashish felt a flicker of amusement. His mother was smart, but he was smarter.
"Good luck with that," he said smoothly before turning away.
He had far more important things to do than entertain her curiosity.
His mind drifted back to the file on his desk.
Anshika Nahyan.
His Jaan.
His future queen.
And whether she realized it or not...
She was already his.
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Delightful Reading Experience
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Making a story relatable across different backgrounds means crafting deep, multi-dimensional characters, universal emotions, and themes that resonate with many. Writing so that everyone can enjoy my imagination.
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