The night cloaked the city of Jaipur in its silent embrace, but within the imposing walls of the Shekhawat mansion, silence was a stranger. Here, in the heart of power and prestige, Ranvijay Shekhawat paced like a caged tiger, his every step a testament to the authority he wielded over the sprawling city.

The dimly lit corridors of the mansion bore the marks of the Shekhawat legacy, each artifact whispering tales of conquests and kings. But none spoke louder than Ranvijay himself . The man in his early thirties stood tall, imposing figure cutting through the shadows, an aura of indomitable will surrounding him.

His face, usually a mask of stoic control, was tonight etched with lines of fury. News of unrest had reached his ears, a murmur of dissent that threatened the order he had fought so fiercely to maintain. His hands, normally steady as stone, now clenched in barely restrained rage.

"Ritik," he called out, his voice resonating with a power that demanded immediate attention.

The door opened with a soft click, and Ritik stepped in, his suit crisp, his demeanor professional. "You call , Bhai?"

Ranvijay finally turned from the panoramic view, his eyes sharp. "We have a leak in the organization. Someone's been talking to the competitors."

Ritik's expression hardened. "Do we know who?"

"Not yet. That's where you come in," Ranvijay said, handing him a folder. "I need you to plug that leak. Discreetly."

Ritik flipped through the documents, his mind already racing with strategies. "Consider it done. They won't even see me coming."

Ranvijay nodded, his trust in Ritik absolute. "Keep it clean, Ritik. Our image is of clean businessmen . We do not need commoners to know about our underworld influence , now do we?:

A ghost of a smile crossed Ritik's face. "Of course, Bhai. Business as usual."

As Ritik disappeared to carry out his orders, Ranvijay turned to gaze out of the vast windows that overlooked his domain. The city of Jaipur lay spread out before him, lights twinkling like stars fallen to earth. But even stars could be extinguished, and Ranvijay knew the cost of keeping the darkness at bay.

He poured himself a drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass mirroring the rain that began to patter against the windowpane. Ranvijay Shekhawat was not just the head of the Shekhawat family; he was the keeper of order, the harbinger of wrath, and the wielder of power that could make or break the city that dared to whisper against him.

And as the storm outside grew in intensity, so did the one within him. He was ready to unleash it upon anyone who dared to challenge his reign. For in the world of shadows and power, Ranvijay Shekhawat was the darkest shadow and the ultimate power.

~~•~~

The night had draped itself over the city, a blanket of quietude that seemed at odds with the tumultuous thoughts raging in Ranvijay Shekhawat's mind. In the solitude of his bedroom, he stood by the window, the moon casting a pale light on the stark lines of his face. He was preparing for bed, a routine that felt mechanical, devoid of the comfort it once offered.

As he slipped between the sheets, the silence of the room was oppressive, a stark reminder of the solitude that his life had become—a solitude he had chosen, a solitude necessitated by his position and power. But tonight, the quiet was shattered by the vivid memories of  her , memories that crept into his consciousness unbidden and unwelcome.

" Ah ! Ranvijay ji ! " a district moan of a rather passionate encounter came back to his mind .

The night they had spent together flashed before his eyes, a series of moments where passion had overridden reason, where desire had conquered discipline. He remembered the softness of her skin, the urgency of her touch, the way she had looked at him—not with fear, but with an intensity that matched his own.

Ranvijay clenched his fists, anger coursing through him. Anger at himself for allowing a moment of weakness, for letting his guard down, for letting his primal instincts take control. He was a Shekhawat, the elder son, the heir to a legacy of iron-willed control and unassailable authority. Such lapses were not just mistakes; they were breaches in the armor he had meticulously built around himself.

He rose from the bed, pacing the room like a caged animal, the shadows seeming to mock his inner turmoil. How could he have allowed himself to be swayed by such base emotions? How could he have forgotten the responsibilities that rested on his shoulders?

With each step, he reminded himself of the path that lay ahead, the path that had been carved out for him since birth. He was to marry Tiya, his betrothed, a union that was less about love and more about alliances and power. It was his duty, his destiny as the elder son of the Shekhawat family.

Finally, exhaustion took over, and Ranvijay returned to his bed, his body heavy with the weight of his thoughts. As he lay there, the image of her lingered in his mind, a ghostly presence that refused to be banished. But with a deep breath, he forced his eyes closed, forcing himself to focus on the image of Tiya, the woman he was bound to by tradition and necessity.

And as sleep claimed him, it was with the resolve that he would fulfill his duties, that he would not falter again. For he was Ranvijay Shekhawat, and he would not be ruled by his desires. He would be the ruler, in all aspects of his life.

~~•~~

The Shekhawat mansion was a flurry of activity, its grand halls and lush gardens adorned with marigolds and jasmine, their fragrance mingling with the scent of anticipation. Tomorrow was to be the wedding of Ranvijay Shekhawat, an event that promised to be the talk of Jaipur for years to come.

Amidst the chaos of preparations, a figure moved with quiet grace, almost unnoticed yet indispensable. Arohi Sah, clad in a simple sari that belied her youth, went about her duties with a diligence that had quickly made her the favorite of the household staff. At 25, she had the timid air of someone accustomed to being in the background, her voice seldom rising above a whisper.

"More rose petals over here, Arohi!" called out the head decorator, waving her over to the mandap where the ceremony would take place.

"Yes, Ji," Arohi replied, her tone respectful as she hurried to comply, her hands deftly scattering petals in a pattern that seemed to bring the very essence of romance to life.

The cooks in the kitchen were no less demanding. "Arohi, taste this laddu, tell us if it needs more sweetness," one of them said, offering her a sample of the wedding sweets.

She obliged, her taste buds discerning the delicate balance of flavors. "It's perfect," she assured them, earning a nod of approval from the seasoned chefs.

Even the stern housekeeper, who rarely had a word of praise for anyone, couldn't help but commend Arohi's work. "You have a way with the linens, girl. Not a crease in sight," she remarked as Arohi expertly arranged the tablecloths for the banquet.

As the day wore on, Arohi's presence seemed to be everywhere, yet she remained a silent witness to the excitement around her. She listened to the chatter of the maids, the laughter of the children chasing each other through the corridors, and the occasional stern command from the family elders overseeing the arrangements.

In the midst of it all, Arohi's eyes held a depth that went unnoticed by the busy household. They observed everything—the placement of the guards, the arrival of the guests, the discreet exchanges between the family members. There was more to Arohi Sah than met the eye, a secret strength hidden behind the facade of a timid and obedient maid.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the mansion, Arohi stood for a moment in the garden, her silhouette a part of the beauty that surrounded her. Tomorrow, the mansion would awaken to a new chapter in its history, and Arohi Sah would be there, her role in the unfolding drama yet to be revealed

~~•~~

The Shekhawat mansion, resplendent in the glow of the setting sun, was alive with the hum of eager anticipation. In the grand drawing room, adorned with silks and velvets, the elders of the house gathered, their faces alight with joy as they discussed the final preparations for the wedding that was to crown the morrow.

Vikramaditya Shekhawat, the patriarch, sat at the head of the room, his voice rich with pride. "To see Ranvijay married will be the crowning jewel of our legacy," he declared, his eyes gleaming with the reflection of a hundred oil lamps.

Devyani, his wife, nodded in agreement, her hands folded in her lap. "The gods have truly blessed us. Everything is as it should be," she said, her voice a soft melody that soothed the excited chatter around her.

The conversation ebbed and flowed like a gentle river, touching upon the guests of honor, the auspicious timing of the rituals, and the delicacies that would grace the tables. Laughter and teasing words were exchanged, the air thick with the sweetness of familial love.

Ramya, Ranvijay's sister, could barely contain her excitement. Her hands fluttered like birds as she spoke, "I can't wait to see Bhai in his wedding attire. He will outshine the stars!"

Her cousins, Arjun and Naina, joined in her mirth, their banter adding to the tapestry of voices. "If he manages to sit through the ceremony without scaring the priest with his 'commander' look, I'll consider it a success," Arjun jested, earning a round of laughter.

Naina playfully swatted at her brother. "Oh, stop it! It's a day of joy. Even the fiercest warriors have hearts capable of love," she chimed, her eyes dancing with merriment.

As the evening wore on, the family shared stories of Ranvijay's childhood, each tale a thread woven into the rich tapestry of his life. They spoke of his strength, his challenges, and the man he had become—a leader, a protector, a pillar of the Shekhawat name.

It was then that Mahendra, Ranvijay's uncle, raised his glass in a toast. "To Ranvijay, may his marriage be as steadfast and enduring as the walls of this great house."

Glasses clinked, and a chorus of agreement filled the room. But amidst the celebration, Sunita, Mahendra's wife, glanced around, her brow furrowing slightly. "Speaking of steadfast, where is that girl, Arohi? She has been quite the help during these preparations. Arohi!" she called out, her voice rising above the din, "Where has that girl disappeared to now?"

~~•~~

Writer's note :

So here's the 1st chapter. Whichever time you're reading this chapter. Do give me your feedback, whether it's interesting or not. And thank you for reading.

•though there would be mention of consumption of alcohol liquor throughout this story , I personally, do not support this . Keep yourself healthy , sane and stay away from this poisonous addiction.