42.
A room full of dangerous mafia men and gangsters. Everyone is sitting in their respective places, discussing… how to destroy others and gain more power. There are mafias from different parts of the world, all gathered under one roof.
And at the center of attention… who?
Yes, him.
He is sitting in the center of the room, a cigarette resting between his fingers. His eyes are fixed on his right wrist, as if nothing around him matters. Yet, he is listening to every whisper, every word spoken in the room.
Grover stands behind his boss, his face strict and emotionless, his posture straight like a guard who breathes only to protect. Zayran is the devil of hell. He isn’t just powerful, he is the power itself. The name that makes the underworld kneel and breathe in fear.
And right beneath him stands Grover, not his equal but still above everyone else, the only man people fear after Zayran.
The other mafias look at each other silently, their eyes flickering with hesitation, trying to gather the courage to speak in front of him.
“Zayran…” an Italian mafia finally says in his thick accent, his voice slightly shaking and the entire room falls into a suffocating silence at just the mention of his name.
Zayran slowly swings his chair, the faint creaking sound echoing in the silence. One of his legs rests over the other as he sits with dominance, his posture relaxed yet dangerously commanding.
“Speak” Zayran says, taking the last slow puff of his cigarette, his voice low but heavy with authority.
The man clicks his teeth in irritation, clearly bothered by the way Zayran orders him but he still doesn’t dare to cross the line.
“Look, we all want you to join the underworld. We know the empire you have created doesn’t need anyone’s support… but if you stand with us, your power will have no limit” the mafia says, his voice carrying both confidence and hidden fear, while the others around him nod their heads in agreement.
Zayran slowly lifts his gaze from his wrist and that one simple movement is enough to silence the entire room. The air turns heavy, suffocating, almost impossible to breathe in.
“My power still doesn’t have any limit” he says, his voice calm yet dangerously firm, making the tension in the room rise even more.
A few men click their jaws in frustration, some curl their fingers into tight fists but none of them dare to speak because it’s not just a statement, it’s a fact.
Not a single mafia in the entire history of the underworld has ever ruled without joining hands with it and its people. But he… he is not just any mafia. He is Zayran Kaalver.
He is the first mafia in history who creates his own name, his own power, without anyone’s help or support. He builds his empire from nothing and turns it into something untouchable. He makes his name more powerful, more feared among people around the world, just by his mere presence.
“Look, we want you to join us. You burned the Apex, yet we didn’t say a single word b...” a man stands up from his chair and starts speaking, trying his best to raise his voice against him, even though fear is clearly visible in his trembling hands and unsteady breath.
“Do you have the power to say anything to me?” Zayran asks, tilting his head slightly, his eyes locking onto the man with a dangerous calmness.
The weight of his gaze is enough. The mafia’s courage breaks instantly and he sits back in his place without uttering another word.
“Zayran… then rule above all of us by becoming the Mafia Lord” another mafia says, forcing the words out, while a few others gasp in shock and some immediately shake their heads, clearly not agreeing but too afraid to oppose.
“Am I not already ruling?” Zayran asks, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He slowly gets up from his chair.
He walks around the room, his steps echoing softly, his sharp eyes scanning each and every face, making people lower their gazes or stiffen in fear as he passes by them.
“Don’t interfere in my business… and I won’t touch anyone” he says, his voice low but firm, as he looks directly into the eyes of every man present, making his warning clear without needing to raise his tone.
He turns around, Grover immediately following behind him, both of them heading toward the door to walk out of the room.
Suddenly, one of the mafias jumps up from his place and runs toward Zayran with a poisonous knife tightly gripped in his hand. He lifts it high, ready to stab it straight into Zayran’s throat.
But Zayran swiftly dodges it. The blade cuts through the air...and his hair tie. His half man bun comes loose instantly as the tie snaps in the middle and falls to the ground, letting his hair fall freely.
Zayran doesn’t think twice. In one swift move, he grabs the man’s wrist and slams him down onto the ground with brutal force. The knife slips from the man’s hand and lands right near Zayran’s feet with a sharp metallic sound.
Zayran bends slightly, picks up the knife and before anyone in the room can even process what is happening, he drives it straight into the center of the man’s throat.
He doesn’t stop. He pulls the knife out and stabs again.
And again.
And again.
Each strike is precise, fast and merciless. His face shows nothing, no anger, no rage, no excitement. He looks calm… disturbingly calm, as if he is doing something as normal as cutting his nails.
Blood splashes onto his clothes, staining them dark and droplets hit his face, yet he doesn’t pause even for a second.
He keeps stabbing. Again. And again. Until the man’s body stops moving completely… until his head separates from his body.
The air in the room turns thick with fear. No one dares to breathe properly. Their eyes are locked on the lifeless body on the ground… and then slowly shift to Zayran’s face. That calm face.
Everyone stands frozen. Some men feel their bodies go stiff, while others start shivering uncontrollably at the way he kills, without emotion, without hesitation. The man he just killed… was a powerful mafia from Russia, known as the most ruthless among them.
Zayran finally stops. He straightens up from the ground and throws the knife away carelessly, as if it means nothing to him.
He wipes his right hand harshly on his shirt, cleaning off the blood completely, his movements rough and unbothered.
Then, without any urgency, he bends down again, using his clean hand, and picks up the broken hair tie from the ground.
He is Sinister, the kind of man whose hands are always stained with blood, yet he would never touch anything related to her with those same hands.
Because to him, she is divine… and everything connected to her is pure. He considers himself the luckiest because even after being a monster, he is still receiving gifts from his feather.
He slowly turns his head toward the man’s separated head. He doesn’t kill him because of the attack. He kills the man because he cuts his hair tie… and it falls on the ground.
He turns on his heel and walks out of the room, blood still smeared across his face. No one has the power to question him. No one has the power to stop him… or punish him.
Sita is sitting in her room, focused on completing her file which she has to submit tomorrow. Her fingers move continuously over the pages, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
But her hands pause the moment she hears a knock on the door. She turns her chair and looks toward it.
“Come” she says softly and the door opens.
His mother walks inside the room. Sita immediately gets up from her seat and looks at her with a slight, respectful smile on her face.
“Kaise ho?” she asks, stopping in front of Sita.
(How are you?)
Sita smiles gently and nods her head. “Main theek hoon, aap kaise hain?” Sita asks politely, her voice soft and respectful, making his mother smile warmly.
(I am fine, how are you?)
“I’m more than good… and from the time you have come, I have become the happiest” she says, a genuine smile spreading across her face, making Sita’s brows knit slightly in confusion.
“You changed him” she says slowly, her voice soft yet filled with emotion, as she gently holds Sita’s hand. Sita’s smile fades and she just looks at his mother, her eyes searching her face.
“H…he looks happy, Sita. You filled his life with happiness. You changed him” she says again, her grip tightening slightly but Sita slowly shakes her head.
“No one can change a person, aunty” Sita says softly, holding his mother’s hand back politely, her touch gentle and respectful.
“And if you think he has changed after I came into his life… then maybe he wanted to change himself...for me” she adds, her heart racing slightly as she speaks.
His mother smiles at her words, her eyes softening because deep inside, she truly believes that Zayran can never get a partner like her ever in his life.
“Yes, you are right” she says and gently caresses Sita’s head with affection.
“Can I ask you something?” Sita asks hesitantly, her voice careful. His mother nods her head, giving her permission.
“Why doesn’t he talk to you like others? And why is he so distant from everyone in the family?” Sita asks, her words soft but direct.
His mother’s grip on her hand loosens instantly and she slowly pulls her hand back. Her eyes drop to the ground and her expression changes.
“I… I don’t know” she says, her voice slightly breaking.
The past flashes through her eyes like a sharp dagger, piercing straight into her heart. Sita watches her closely, noticing every small change in her behavior.
“He will tell you everything one day… by himself” she says quietly, then slowly turns around and begins to walk out of the room.
“But please… don’t leave him after listening to him. I’m not forcing you, it’s just my request” she says, her voice soft but filled with desperation.
Sita just looks at her, unknown emotions swirling in her eyes, her lips slightly parted but no words coming out.
His mother gives her one last look, then walks out of the room, leaving Sita alone with questions only he can answer, no one else.
The flames rise high into the sky as my warehouse burns down right in front of my eyes. The fire reflects on my face, making it glow in shades of orange and red.
On the other side, my ship explodes, the loud blast echoing in the air. I stand there, leaning against my car, watching everything without moving, my gaze fixed on the destruction in front of me.
“B…boss, why are we not doing anything?” Grover asks, standing behind me. For the first time, fear is clearly heard in his voice.
“Boss, you worked day and night for those things… and all of this costs more than trillions” Grover says, his words coming out in a rush, unable to understand my silence.
“I know, Grover” I say calmly, running my hand through my hair. I take a deep breath and then slowly turn my head toward him.
“I made my wife cry unintentionally… and I don’t deserve this, I deserve a punishment bigger than this” I say, my voice low.
His eyes widen instantly. He takes a step back, gulping hard, clearly shocked by my words.
“Trust me, I can do much worse than this, to myself or to anyone who tries to bring tears to her eyes” I say, my gaze turning cold and dangerous.
I can’t see her like that. She is only meant to be happy… meant to smile. Her smile is the reason for my breathing… no… actually, she is the breath I take.
My phone rings, breaking the silence around me. I take it out of my pocket and my breathing stops the moment I see the caller ID.
My feather is calling me.
I don’t waste even a second. I receive the call instantly and place the phone against my ear. My lips threaten to curl into a smile but I control myself, keeping my face calm.
“Kaha hai aap?” she shouts the moment I receive the call.
(Where are you?)
I blink slightly and turn my head away from the burning scene in front of me. I open my mouth to say something but she speaks again before I can even utter a word. Only she can do this.
“Time kya ho raha hai?” she asks.
(What time is it?)
I glance at my watch but before I can reply, she cuts me off again.
“Raat ke 10 baj rahe hai. Aur agar aap 15 minute me ghar nahi aaye, to hum aap ko room se bahar phenk denge” she says loudly, her voice filled with authority and then cuts the call.
(It is 10 at night. And if you don’t come home within 15 minutes, then I will throw you out of the room)
I stare at the screen for a moment…and then a smile slowly spreads across my face. My feather calls me…and shouts at me for staying out this late.
“Let’s go” I say, my voice suddenly filled with urgency.
I almost run toward the driver’s seat and slide inside. The moment Grover gets in, I start the car without wasting a second. I drive straight toward the mansion, not stopping, not caring about anything around me.
I just want to reach home… before those 15 minutes end.
But his steps suddenly stop.
His wife is standing right in front of him, her hands placed firmly on her waist. Her cute nose flutters with anger and before he can react, she walks toward him.
He instinctively takes a step back but she closes the distance and stands right in front of him, glaring up at him with sharp, angry eyes.
“Kaha the aap? Ye koi time hai ghar aane ka, haa?” she shouts.
(Where were you? Is this any time to come home?)
He gulps slowly, his throat going dry but before he can say anything, she grabs his collar and pulls his face down to her level. His eyes literally widen in shock at her sudden action.
“I’m sorry but please meri daant sun lijiye. Un bandaron ne mujhe dare diya hai aur balcony se chup kar dekh rahe hain” she says everything in one breath.
(I’m sorry but please listen to my scolding. Those monkeys gave me a dare and are secretly watching from the balcony)
He blinks, completely confused, not understanding what is happening. Slowly, he shifts his gaze to the side… and notices four heads slightly peeking from behind the curtains.
“Iske badle hume kya milega?” he asks slowly, lifting his hand and holding his ear like he is apologizing.
(What will I get in return for this?)
“Aap jo maangege, woh” she says, slowly letting go of his collar.
(Whatever you ask for)
“Kaan pakad kar maafi maangiye aur agar agli baar late hua, to yaad rakhna hum kya karenge aap ke saath” she shouts again.
(Hold your ears and apologize properly and if this happens again, then remember what I will do to you)
He nods his head obediently, still holding his ear, while the four of them behind the curtain widen their eyes in complete shock, watching their bhai standing there, holding his ears and silently listening to her scolding him.
“Jaiye aur fresh ho kar so jaiye, chup chaap” Sita shouts again.
(Go and freshen up and sleep quietly)
He nods his head without saying a single word and walks inside the closet.
The moment he disappears, all four of them come out from the balcony, their faces filled with shock and excitement.
“Bhabhi, aap to sach mein kisi se nahi darti hain” Om says, bowing dramatically in front of Sita.
(Sister-in-law, you really aren’t afraid of anyone)
Sita folds her arms over her chest proudly, lifting her chin slightly, as if she didn’t just beg her husband like a scared cat a few moments ago.
“Ab jao yahan se, warna tumhare bhai dekh lenge tum sab ko” Sita says quickly and pushes all four of them out of the room before they can say anything else, then shuts the door.
(Now go from here, otherwise your brother will see all of you)
“Sita…” she whispers to herself, almost on the verge of tears, as she lightly hits her own arm in frustration.
“Kitna jhoot bolna pada. Mere ek jhoot ki wajah se na main kehti ki main kisi se darti hoon aur na mujhe un logon ko dikhana padta… aur na hi mere darinde jaise husband se jhoot bolna padta” she says, her voice filled with regret and irritation as she walks toward the bed and lies down, still cursing herself.
(How many lies I had to tell. Because of one lie. I wouldn’t have told them that I’m not scared of anyone. I had to show those people that I'm not sacred… and I even had to lie to my monster-like husband)
Her eyes suddenly fall on him as he walks out of the closet in his nightwear. She gulps nervously and quickly looks away, fear creeping into her heart that he might shout at her…or worse, punish her for her behavior.
But he does nothing like that. He simply walks toward the bed and lies down close to her and......gently places his head on her chest.
Her eyes widen in shock, almost as if they might come out of their sockets and her breathing stops for a moment. Her hands freeze… her entire body goes still.
Slowly, she lowers her gaze… looking at him lying on her chest like this. Every day, she is the one who rests her head on his chest… but today, he does it.
“Hum aise so sakte hain na?” he asks softly, placing his hand on her waist and pulling her closer to him.
(Can i sleep like this?)
“Aapne kaha tha hum jo maangege, woh dengi aap” he says, lifting his gaze to look at her face.
(You said you would give me whatever I ask for)
She nods her head slowly, gulping with difficulty. So many emotions swirl inside her, making her stomach twist with nervousness. He switches off the lights with his other hand and darkness fills the room.
Both of them feel something strange… happiness and fear at the same time. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she lifts her hand and places it on his hair.
Her heart starts racing the moment she touches him. She gently caresses his hair, slowly, carefully… as if she is afraid. He closes his eyes, tightening his grip on her waist slightly, holding her closer.
“Ek baat pooche aapse?” she asks, her heart filled with fear, yet she still gathers the courage to speak.
(Can I ask you something?)
“Ji” he replies softly, while she continues to play with his hair.
“Aap gussa nahi karenge?” she asks again, her voice hesitant, as she looks down at his face… which looks so soft, so peaceful.
(You won’t get angry, right?)
“Kabhi nahi” he replies, his voice soft but firm.
(Never)
Her hands stop moving for a second. Her heart thuds loudly against his ear and his heartbeat starts racing faster than ever. She nervously licks her lips, gathering courage, the fear still present inside her.
“Why are you so distant from your family?” she asks softly. His eyes slowly open.
“You are my family” he replies without taking even a second.
His eyes are now fully open. He gently takes her hand and brings it in front of his face, starting to play with her fingers.
One of her hands is still in his hair, while the other is now in his grasp, his fingers moving slowly, absentmindedly, as if finding comfort in her touch.
“What happened to you in your past?” she asks again, softly caressing his head.
“I’ll tell you everything when the right time comes” he replies, his voice calm but carrying something deeper beneath it.
She nods her head slowly not forcing him, understanding his silence.
“Aap ko humse nafrat ho jayegi… hamara sach jaanne ke baad” he says, slowly leaving her hand.
(You will start hating me… after knowing my truth)
A flicker of fear appears in his eyes, the real Zayran, the one he buried deep inside many years ago, slowly starts surfacing.
“Kabhi nahi” she replies softly.
(Never)
She gently places her hand back on his palm again, silently telling him to hold it… to play with her fingers again.
And he does.
He takes her hand again and starts playing with her fingers, slower this time, more careful… as if he is afraid to lose this moment.
“You are so soft” he says quietly. She bites her cheek, her face turning slightly red.
“You know… when I was little, I used to cry just to get those soft Spider-Man pillows” he says, a small smile appearing on his face. She looks down at him, her eyes softening even more.
“Did you get them?” she asks slowly. He chuckles and shakes his head. His grip tightens around her hand.
“They never buy me the things I want” he says, his voice quiet. Something in his tone changes… it is not the same voice she has heard until now. It is softer, broken in a way she has never seen before. Tears unknowingly gather in her eyes as she listens to him.
“When you asked me about the scar on my face… I got that scar when I asked for chocolates and they hit me. My face got this mark when it hit the edge of a table” he says and a tear slips from his eyes.
She feels his tear against her skin…but more than his, her own tears fall.
“Y… you were just 8 at that time?” she asks slowly.
He nods his head.
Her hand tightens around him, holding him closer not wanting to cry at this moment. She presses his head more against herself, trying to give him the warmth he deserves, the warmth he never got.
“Never leave me” he says slowly, his voice fading as he drifts into sleep.
He never sleeps this early… but today, he feels safe. He feels something he has never felt in his life before.
She keeps caressing his hair… she doesn’t even know for how long. Her fingers move gently, again and again, lost in her thoughts.
She wants to know about him. She understands one thing clearly, the man in her arms is not what he shows to the world. Either he is far worse than what he shows… or there is a completely different story hidden inside him that no one knows.
And today… is the beginning.
The beginning of his past unfolding.
The beginning of many truths hidden behind walls and locked inside hearts, slowly coming out in front of everyone. And the moment his past is revealed… many things will change, in ways no one has ever imagined.
Aap sab aayse hi tayyar rahte ho jab mai late hoti hu to....ik
sorry late ho gai.