𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 (𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

POV AUTHOR

"Sir, the traitors are in the basement," a man named Shantanu reported to another man in his late twenties. Hearing this, the man rose from his seat with a calm, deadly purpose and made his way toward the basement.

This man was none other than Ranvijay Singh Rathore, soon to be crowned as the King of Rajasthan. His name alone struck fear into people's hearts, carrying a reputation as powerful as it was dangerous.

As Ranvijay approached the basement, the guards immediately opened the doors, bowing as he passed, though he barely acknowledged them. Inside, the basement was dark and foreboding. He walked in, finding two men chained and brutally beaten by his guards. Without a word, he sat down on a throne-like chair, crossing one leg over the other, exuding a commanding presence.

"Raja sa, please, forgive us! We're sorry, we'll- ahhh!" one of the men cried out, his plea cut short by a gunshot to his leg, leaving him screaming in agony.

"Tsk tsk... You should've thought of this before betraying me," Ranvijay said, his voice as cold as ice. "You know, 'sorry' and 'mercy' don't exist in my dictionary. So, tell me who sent you, or..." He trailed off, shooting the second man in the leg, then rose slowly from his chair.

"Shera, handle them. If you get any information, call me," he ordered in a low, steely tone to Shera, his trusted right-hand man in the underworld. Without another glance, Ranvijay turned and walked toward his car, his bodyguards falling into place behind him. He climbed into his car and left for the Rathore Mahal.

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                       ( Rathore Mahal )

As the car pulled up to the grand estate, a guard opened the door, and Ranvijay stepped out with effortless authority. He strode into the mansion, heading toward his private quarters, when a familiar, commanding voice stopped him in his
tracks.

"Vijay!"

Ranvijay sighed, bracing himself. He knew exactly what his Dadi sa was about to say, but, with a respectful nod, he turned to face her.

"Ji, Dadi sa," he greeted her, bowing slightly and touching her feet.

"Dadi sa ke bacche! I've been calling you since morning. Why didn't you answer?" she said, her tone both chiding and affectionate.

"Dadi sa, it's just that I got so busy with work, I didn't notice. Did you need anything?" he responded, meeting her sharp gaze.

"Yes! I need you to go get ready. We're leaving for Rishabh's wedding, and I don't want to hear any excuses," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. He sighed but nodded in
agreement.

Ranvijay could never refuse his Dadi sa; she was his rock, his inspiration. He admired her strength, how she managed the state with his grandfather. Though he didn't believe in marriage, he always thought that if he ever did marry, he'd want someone like his Dadi sa and Maa sa someone who could stand by his side and rule like a true queen.

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Soon, he was dressed in traditional attire and made his way downstairs, where his Dadi sa was waiting, as the rest of the family had already left for the wedding venue.

"Am I seeing right? Is this truly Ranvijay Singh Rathore?" Dheeraj, the former King of Madhya Pradesh and the groom's grandfather, remarked with surprise. Ranvijay bowed in respect and took his blessings, saying "Pranam" politely.

"Jite raho. Bhagwan kare tumhari bhi shaadi jald ho. Bahut khushi hui ke tum aaye yahan," Dheeraj said warmly, blessing him. But the mere mention of marriage soured Ranvijay's mood.

("God bless you, and may you get married soon. We're very happy you came here.")

After a brief exchange with Dheeraj, Ranvijay moved around, mingling with other business associates. Just then, his phone began to ring. Excusing himself, he answered the call from Shera, who was updating him on the situation back at the basement. So focused on the call, he didn't notice where he was walking until he collided with someone. It wasn't just anyone; it was Anvi.

Caught off-guard, Anvi lost her balance, about to tumble down the stairs. But before she could fall, Ranvijay's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly and steadying her. She opened her eyes, expecting pain, but instead found herself staring into a pair of intense brown eyes.

They both froze, momentarily locked in each other's gaze. Her hazel eyes met his dark, deep ones, and for a moment, the world around them faded. Anvi felt her breath hitch, his strong arm keeping her anchored. There was a magnetic pull between them, as though something unspoken connected them in that brief moment.

Their trance was broken when Ranvijay's phone began ringing again, jolting them back to reality. Anvi quickly pulled herself away, adjusting her lehenga, avoiding his gaze, but she was feeling his eyes still on her.

She murmured a quiet, "Thank you," before hurrying off, leaving Ranvijay standing there, watching as she disappeared down the corridor, unable to shake the memory of her touch.

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