|| # Book1 Mafia series ||
"In a world where innocence meets darkness, Ruhanika, a devout believer, finds herself entangled with Ekansh Singh Rathore, the formidable ruler of the Rathore dynasty. Ruhanika's dreams of flight and her longing to honor...
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The scream jolted me awake, and for a moment, I lay there, heart pounding, trying to separate dream from reality.
"I'm sorry, Ekansh... I'm sorry..." Her voice was a soft whisper, filled with a regret that seemed to seep into my very bones.
"No... No... I can't stand 'sorry'," I muttered to myself, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"Ekansh, son, please forgive me... I wasn't the father I should have been... I am sorry, my child..."
"Dad, no... Please... You can't just leave me like this..."
"Dad... Please..."
"Dad!" The word burst from me, a desperate plea into the silence of my room.
I sat up, drenched in sweat, the echoes of their voices still ringing in my ears. It was that dream again, the one that replayed the worst day of my life over and over, like a broken record that refused to be silenced.
Dragging myself out of bed, I tried to shake off the remnants of the past that clung to me. The cold shower was a shock to the system, but it did little to wash away the memories that haunted me.
Back in my room, I booted up my laptop. The clock read midnight, but sleep was a luxury my mind wouldn't afford me. Instead, I lost myself in the glow of the screen, trying to drown out the whispers of the past with the clatter of keys.
It was in these quiet hours, while the world slept, that I felt closest to them. Maybe it was the stillness, or maybe it was the darkness—whatever it was, it made the veil between here and there feel paper-thin.
As I worked, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched. I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see them standing there, but there was nothing—just the familiar shadows of my room.
I turned back to the screen, but the feeling lingered. It was silly, I knew, to think that they could really be here with me. And yet, part of me hoped it was true.
The night stretched on, and I kept typing, pouring my soul into words that no one else would read. It was just me, my thoughts, and the quiet companionship of the night.
And maybe, just maybe, the presence of two people I'd never stop missing.
Next morning
"I was seated in my office, engrossed in my laptop, when a knock interrupted my focus.
'Come in,' I invited.
'Sir, Mr. Batra has defected to collaborate with our rival, Shaurya Rajawat. This partnership could jeopardize our finances,' Rudra reported.
