Abhimanyu, a runaway who fled the hellish environment his father created, has spent a decade navigating life's uncertainties through a world of gambling. Alone and drifting through the streets of Lucknow, everything changes when he encounters Roop...
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A/N: I was wondering if I should create character AI bots for "The Runaway's Oasis" characters. Let me know in comments if I should do it?
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Sunehri Sinha
The opulent chamber echoed with the heavy tread of Sunehri's guards. They deposited a plush, crimson armchair in front of Abhimanyu with practiced efficiency, the stark contrast between its luxury and the rough treatment he'd received moments before not escaping him.
Sunehri, resplendent in a shimmering gold gown, materialized from a hidden doorway behind the throne. The fabric clung to her curves, a daring side slit revealing a glimpse of toned thigh. A steely resolve radiated from her, a queen surveying her captured prey.
She settled onto the throne, a predator claiming her perch. Her gaze, sharp as a diamond chip, sliced across the room to land on Abhimanyu. "I trust my men didn't handle you too roughly, Mr. Raichand," Sunehri said, her voice a silken purr laced with a subtle undercurrent of threat.
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, momentarily breaking the tension. He leaned back in the chair, the plush fabric yielding beneath him. "Mr. Raichand? Seems you've mistaken me for someone else," he countered, his voice a low rumble.
A flicker of something akin to surprise crossed her face, quickly masked by a steely resolve. "I don't make mistakes, Mr. Raichand. It is unfortunate that I couldn't recognize you the other night amidst the festivities. However, when you made your rather abrupt exit, your brother, Aryan Raichand, arrived shortly after, searching for you with a frantic desperation. It did make me wonder, Mr. Raichand, what were the chances of him looking for Abhimanyu Raichand right after the Abhimanyu who was my date disappeared?"
Abhimanyu's eyebrows shot up, a sardonic amusement flickering in his eyes. He leaned forward, the plush chair sighing beneath his weight. A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face. "Seems there's been a misunderstanding, Miss Sinha," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the tense silence. "There's only one Abhimanyu here, and he wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The streets raised me, not some fancy pedigree." The last words dripped with disdain, a challenge echoing in the air.
Sunehri's lips curved into a humorless chuckle, a sound devoid of warmth or genuine amusement. For a woman known as "Cruella," such emotions were a luxury she couldn't afford, nor did she particularly crave. Her obsidian eyes, however, flickered with a hint of something akin to surprise - a fleeting glimpse that vanished as quickly as it appeared. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned one of her ever-present guards, her voice a clipped command. The guard melted back into the shadows, returning moments later with a sleek briefcase in hand. Sunehri accepted it with a nod, her crimson nails glinting under the harsh overhead lights. Deliberately, she flipped open the latches, the silence in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Inside, nestled amongst velvet lining, lay a single photograph. Sunehri's eyes narrowed as she lifted it, her gaze flickering from the image to Abhimanyu, a question hanging heavy in the air.
