Chapter Six
Author's POV;
The entire mansion slept.
Silence stretched through every hall, every room. It was past midnight - the hour when the Rathore estate demanded silence, discipline, and darkness.
Everyone followed the rule.
Except him.
The front door opened without sound, but the air shifted the moment Aansh Rathore stepped inside. Dressed in black, eyes shadowed, presence dangerous - he looked like something carved from the night itself.
His footsteps echoed on the cold marble as he made his way toward the staircase.
Then-
A servant appeared, face pale, hands trembling.
"S-sir..."
Aansh stopped. His gaze snapped to the man.
"Thakur Sahib... he... he wishes to see you."
The man's voice cracked with fear. Even uttering that command to this Rathore was like playing with death.
Aansh didn't speak. He simply stared for a long second, then turned and walked back toward his room.
---
Inside, he tore off his blazer and tossed it on the bed. The silence buzzed.
He washed his hands, his face - movements sharp, efficient. Each drop of water felt like fire crawling down his skin.
His reflection in the mirror was quiet and unreadable, but his eyes were simmering with something wild - something barely kept in a cage.
He changed into a black shirt, rolled up his sleeves halfway, and left the room.
No thoughts. No hesitation. Just an instinct to obey his grandfather - the only man he listened to.
He reached the old, carved wooden door at the far end of the hall.
Knocked once.
"Come in," came the voice.
---
Pratap Rathore sat by the window in his antique chair, cane leaning beside him, a glass of warm saffron milk in hand. The golden lamp beside him cast heavy shadows across his wrinkled face, making him look both ancient and unshakable.
Aansh entered, his body a wall of tension.
"Dadaji," he said curtly, his voice cold but respectful, "you should be sleeping. It's late."
Pratap looked up and smiled faintly, gesturing toward the seat across from him.
"Sit."
Aansh obeyed, posture straight, gaze fixed.
Pratap studied his grandson for a moment. A man made of glass and fire - clear on the surface, burning beneath.
Then he spoke.
"You are the future of the Rathores."
Aansh's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"You are our heir. Everything this family has built - its empire, its name, its power - rests on your shoulders."
"I'm aware," Aansh said sharply. "Get to the point."
Pratap exhaled. Slow. Heavy.
"I want you to get married."
The words dropped like a thunderclap in the room.
Silence followed.
But it wasn't empty.
It was violent.
Aansh didn't move. Not at first.
Then his hands curled into fists.
His chest rose once... and then he stood up. Slowly.
His eyes - bloodshot now - locked onto his grandfather with something between betrayal and pure, unfiltered rage.
"Marriage?"
His voice was low, lethal.
"You called me here to talk about marriage?"
Pratap met his eyes calmly. "Yes."
"You know I don't believe in that garbage," Aansh snapped, stepping forward.
"You know what I've seen. What I've done. What I am."
His voice grew louder. Darker.
"I am not made for vows and sindoor and soft words. That world - the one you want to drag me into - I burned it a long time ago."
Pratap remained silent.
Aansh's hands were shaking now - not from weakness, but from the effort to contain the storm inside him.
"Don't do this," he warned. "Don't ask me to cage myself in chains of rituals and lies."
"I'm not asking," Pratap said softly. "I'm begging."
That stopped him.
"I'm an old man, Aansh. I don't know how much longer I have. I want to see you married before I go. Do it for me."
Aansh shut his eyes, every muscle in his body tightening like wire about to snap.
"Don't force me, Dadaji..." he growled through clenched teeth.
"Because if I say yes - if I agree to marry whoever she is - I will ruin her."
His voice dropped into something terrifying.
"I will rip her apart. I will drag her into my world and make sure she never finds a way out."
"My world is made of hell, and if you're willing to throw someone into it just to satisfy your final wish-"
He paused. Chest heaving. Jaw clenched so tightly it could crack.
"Then fine."
"I'll marry her."
"And I'll break her. Slowly. Beautifully."
He turned away, the fury in his footsteps shaking the floor beneath him.
Just as he reached the door-
Pratap whispered, to himself
"Maybe... she can fix you." Hope visible in his eyes.
---
In the hallway, someone stood, hidden in shadow.
Watching.
Waiting.
Eyes narrowed.
Face unreadable.
A silent figure... who had just witnessed the beginning of a war.
And they weren't going to let it unfold without playing their part.
"This mansion only deserves on queen, and not some rat leaving on the streets."
Finally,our Aansh agreed but what will be Ria's reaction to a wedding. Please leave comments.