The Crown And Care

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 01

Ansh Raj is the epitome of perfection, the kind of man who turns heads wherever he goes. In his late twenties, he is a brilliant surgeon with a reputation that extends far beyond the walls of the prestigious hospital where he works.

His chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and perfectly styled hair make him the subject of many dreams.

Ansh is everything a girl could want in a partner—handsome, charming, intelligent, and incredibly wealthy.

But beneath that perfect exterior lies a personality that would make most girls run for the hills.

Cold, arrogant, narcissistic, rude, and downright scary at times, he is not the prince charming many hope he would be.

He strides through the hospital corridors with an air of authority, his white coat billowing behind him like a cape. Nurses and junior doctors step aside, their eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze.

Ansh thrives on the control and fear he instills in those around him. He is a man who expects perfection, and anything less is met with his sharp, cutting remarks.

Conversations dwindled to hushed whispers, and the staff members nearby instinctively straightened, their gazes respectfully lowered.

Ansh's reputation preceded him—an arrogant brilliance tempered by an unparalleled skill that commanded both awe and unease.

His dark, penetrating eyes scanned the corridor ahead, acknowledging the unspoken reverence of those around him.

A slight curve of his lips hinted at a smug satisfaction, an acknowledgment of his own prowess in the realm of medicine.

He wore his confidence like armor, a shield against any doubt or hesitation that dared to challenge him.

The doors to the operating theatre loomed ahead, a threshold to another realm where life and death danced on the edge of a scalpel.

He paused momentarily, his hand resting casually on the door handle.

Behind those doors lay his domain, where he wielded his knowledge and skill with a precision that bordered on obsession.

With a decisive push, he entered the theatre.

The sterile environment enveloped him like a familiar embrace, the scent of disinfectant mingling with the anticipation of imminent surgery.

Heads turned subtly as he entered, and a palpable tension settled over the room—an acknowledgment of his presence and the weight of expectation that accompanied it.

Ansh Raj, the renowned surgeon with a dark, consuming aura, had arrived.

And with his arrival came the promise of both salvation and peril, a dichotomy that mirrored the complexity of his own enigmatic persona.

Among the team members was Nurse Trisha, who had worked alongside him in countless surgeries.

She approached him with a tablet, her expression a mix of professionalism and a hint of nervousness, admiration flickering in her eyes.

"Dr. Ansh," Trisha greeted, her voice wavering slightly. "We have a critical case today."

"Report." Ansh nodded, his dark eyes narrowing as he took the report from her.

Trisha glanced at the report, then back at Ansh.

"A 32-year-old male, severe abdominal pain for the past 48 hours. Initial scans indicate a perforated ulcer, but there are complications. His vitals are deteriorating rapidly due to significant internal bleeding."