The Obsession He Refused to Admit
The sunlight filtered into the massive glass office on the top floor.
Riyansh sat behind his desk, a mountain of files in front of him—deals worth crores, government proposals, underworld messages, everything that defined his empire.
Yet his mind…
Was somewhere else.
His manager knocked lightly.
"Your Highness, if you want I can bring the details about that girl. Should I get the details about that gir—"
"No I don't want it," Riyansh said sharply.
The manager froze.
"…Your Highness?"
Riyansh looked up, expression blank, cold, unreadable.
"I said no. I don't need her details."
The manager bowed.
"As you command."
He left quietly.
The moment the door closed, Riyansh leaned back in his chair, jaw tight.
Finding her would be easy.
Too easy.
One order and he'd know everything—
her name, her college, her family, her fears.
But the thought irritated him.
"She is irrelevant."
His fingers tapped the desk with controlled annoyance.
"I rule Rajasthan. I control the underworld. I command governments. And I am thinking about a trembling little girl?"
A humorless chuckle escaped him.
Pathetic.
He convinced himself again—
his obsession was power, not people.
He was the King.
The Lion.
The one everyone bowed to.
He didn't chase…
he was the one chased.
And she?
A nobody.
A girl , just a ordinary girl. who couldn't even stand straight in front of him.
"She means nothing," he muttered.
He opened a file.
Tried to work.
But…
Her face flashed again.
Those eyes wide with terror.
Her lips trembling.
Her breath shaking against his hand.
The way she ran—like escaping a nightmare.
He felt his chest tighten.
Not with softness.
Never that.
But with something dark.
Something possessive.
Something he refused to name.
He shut the file abruptly.
"Why is she still in my head?" he whispered.
His empire waited for no one.
People kneeled for him.
Ministers feared him.
Governments listened to him.
And yet—
His thoughts kept circling back to a girl who could barely say "leave me" without stuttering.
It irritated him.
Annoyed him.
Fed him.
Because no matter how much he convinced himself…
His mind had already chosen.
The obsession was her.
Not power.
Not authority.
Her fear.
Her innocence.
Her existence.
Even if he refused to admit it.
Even if he swore he would not search for her.
Even if he told himself it was all a waste of time.
The truth was simple and brutal—
He was already obsessed.
On the other hand ....
The Night That Wouldn't End
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Sakshi lay on her bed, hugging her pillow tightly against her chest. The lights were off, and the soft glow from the streetlamp slipped through her window.
But sleep…
Sleep wouldn't come.
The moment she closed her eyes—
She saw him.
His face inches from hers.
His cold breath brushing her cheek.
His grip on her waist, unshakable, terrifying.
His voice echoing in her ears:
"You've seen something you should not…"
Sakshi's eyes snapped open again, heart pounding.
"Aaaahhhhhhhh !! " She shouted pulling her hairs trying to get him off her mind
Her room felt suffocating.
She sat up, breathing heavily. Her hands were shaking as she pressed them over her ears, trying to block out the memory.
"Why is this happening…" she whispered, voice trembling.
She curled her knees to her chest.
Every time she blinked, the scene replayed—
The black SUVs.
The gunshot.
The blood.
His hand pulling her closer.
His chuckle when she begged.
Her stomach twisted.
She tried closing her eyes again—
but instead of darkness, she saw his smirk.
Her breath hitched.
A tear slid down her cheek.
"No… please…" she whispered to herself, as if begging her own mind.
She turned on the lights suddenly, needing something—anything—to make her room feel safe.
But the brightness only made her feel more exposed.
She pressed a trembling hand over her face.
"I don't know him… why am I still scared… why can't I forget…"
She knew nothing about that man.
Not his name.
Not his world.
Not the danger trailing behind him.
All she knew was the fear.
That cold, deadly fear that wrapped around her every time she remembered his eyes.
She lay back down, lights still on, pillow clutched to her chest.
Hours passed.
2 AM.
3 AM.
But Sakshi still stared at the ceiling—wide awake, teary-eyed, haunted.
Because deep inside, she knew something terrifying:
She didn't just see a man.
She saw a monster with the face of a king.
And she feared—
He wasn't done with her.
Not yet.