Hellllloooo everyone here I am with my first ever story as I have already mentioned that this is my 1st story there could be mistake.
I have been reading since a long time and honestly reading and criticizing is much more easier then making stories that really reaches to readers heart.
So here I am trying something new with bundles of hope.
Please do read and give this story a chance.
Kuch jyada hi lamba ho gaya Okk ab mai apni batain yahi band krti hu taki aap log ye aage padh kr enjoy kr sake.thank you
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Start reading
South Mumbai,
RATHORE MANSION
The Man Everyone Waited For
The Rathore mansion woke before the sun, but it only truly came alive when Rudra Rathore stepped out of his room.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and a charcoal overcoat draped effortlessly over his broad shoulders, he moved through the marble corridor like a force the house had learned to obey. His presence altered the air—straightened backs, lowered voices, controlled breaths.
He did not walk.
He advanced.
Staff instinctively stepped aside. Conversations died mid-word. A servant froze with a tray in hand until Rudra passed, only then exhaling.
Fear was not taught here.
It was understood.
At twenty-nine, soon to be thirty, Rudra carried authority that men twice his age borrowed and failed to sustain. His face was sharp, unreadable—eyes dark, calculating, holding stories no one dared to ask about. The faint scar near his jawline was a reminder that fear did not shape him; he shaped it.
Downstairs, the dining hall stood frozen in anticipation.The long mahogany table was set immaculately. Silverware aligned, breakfast laid untouched. Conversations died the moment his footsteps echoed against the floor.
Grandfather Dharmesh Rathore folded his newspaper calmly.
Grandmother Kamla straightened her saree.Mahesh Rathore looked up with quiet hope—and quiet resignation.
And at the far end, Aryan Rathore was in the middle of irritating four-year-old Aarav Malhotra—until he saw Rudra.Aryan immediately stopped. Aarav, mid-laugh, followed Aryan’s gaze and stiffened, wide-eyed.
Rudra took his seat at the head of the table. No one moved No one spoke.
'Good morning dadu' he wished his dadu
'Good morning beta' dadu smiled and wished back warmly.
Beside him on his right sat Ruhani carring little Aarav —barely four—in her lap who was busy committing silent crimes against the fruit bowl. Juice dripped down his chin as he stared at Rudra with wide, fearless eyes.and back at his bowl.
Little aarav looked at him with doe innocent eyes rudra ruffled his hair warmly making him smile cheerfully and nooded at Ishani as a gesture of acknowledgement.
“Mamu,” he announced loudly, holding up a half-eaten apple, “this one is sour.”
Rudra glanced at him.
The room stiffened.
Then—almost imperceptibly—Rudra slid his plate across the table and exchanged it with Aarav’s.
“Eat this,” he said. “It’s sweet.”
He picked up a cup of black coffee, and his breakfast took a single sip, and placed it back without a word. Only then did the household breathe again.
Aryan leaned closer to Aarav and whispered, barely holding back a grin,“See? Even my jokes have curfews.”Aarav giggled silently, clapping a hand over his mouth as if laughter itself might get him punished.
Across the table, Aryan grinned.
“Good morning, Bhai,” he said cheerfully, reaching for toast. “
Rudra looked up at Aryan and nooded once, just acknowledging the wish.
Everyone continued their breakfast.
Rudra stood.Chairs scraped back instantly as everyone followed suit—not because of tradition, but instinct.Without looking back, Rudra walked out, his presence lingering long after the doors closed behind him only then did the mansion exhale and breath again
Aryan leaned back in his chair, grinning.
“Ahh… finally. Oxygen.”
A tiny voice piped up immediately.
“Mamma says you already have too much air in your head.”
Aryan froze.
Slowly, he turned to the small boy sitting cross-legged on the sofa, clutching a stuffed lion almost as big as his torso.
“Excuse me?” Aryan narrowed his eyes. “What did you just say, chotu?”
Aarav tilted his head seriously. “Air. Mamma says balloons burst.”
Aryan gasped dramatically. “Are you calling me a balloon?”
Aarav nodded, very thoughtfully. “Big balloon.”
Kabir—passing by—snorted and walked off before becoming collateral damage.
Aryan scooted closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“You know, little man… I’m the cool uncle. I bring chocolates. Ice cream.”
Aarav hugged his lion tighter. “You also steal my biscuits.”
Aryan winced. “That was one time.”
“You said ‘last time’ also,” Aarav replied, eyes wide with innocence.
Aryan placed a hand on his chest. “This is betrayal.”
Aarav climbed down from the sofa and stood in front of him, hands on his tiny hips.
“You are not allowed to touch my biscuits,” he announced firmly.
“Only Mamma and Dadu. And Rudra mamu… but only when he smiles.”
Aryan blinked. “Have you ever seen his smile?”
Aarav nodded solemnly. “Once.”
“When?”
“When I gave him my chocolate.”
Aryan stared at him in disbelief. “You bribed the devil.”
Aarav shrugged. “Chocolate is powerful.”
Aryan burst out laughing, scooping the child up effortlessly.
“You, my friend, are dangerous.”
Aarav giggled, wrapping his arms around Aryan’s neck.
“Don’t tell Mamma I called you balloon,” Aarav whispered.
Aryan smirked. “Deal. But you share your biscuits.”
Aarav thought very hard, then nodded.
“Two only.”
Aryan sighed. “I’ll take it.”
The mansion echoed with soft laughter—
a rare, fragile warmth in a house ruled by shadows.
Aryan ruffled Aarav’s hair.“Okay, terror alert over. Resume fun.
”Aarav laughed freely now.
The Rathore Group of companies
The Rathore Group headquarters towered over the city—glass, steel, and absolute dominance. The moment Rudra entered the building, silence followed him like a shadow.
Employees stood straighter.
Executives swallowed nerves.
The executive floor of Rathore Group Headquarters existed in a different rhythm than the rest of the city—controlled, disciplined, unforgiving.
The moment Rudra Rathore entered the boardroom, twenty-seven of the most powerful men and women in the country stood up in unison.
Not because of policy.
Because experience had taught them never to be seated when he arrived.
Rudra did not acknowledge the gesture. His gaze swept the room once—slow, lethal. Every tablet, every file, every trembling hand fell into alignment under that look.
“Sit.”
One word.
They obeyed instantly.
The glass walls reflected a city that believed it ran itself. Inside, Rudra corrected that illusion.
He took the central seat, fingers interlocked, posture relaxed—dangerously so. Relaxation on Rudra Rathore was never comfort; it was confidence sharpened by control.
“Quarterly reports,” he said calmly.
A senior director cleared his throat. “Sir, the Eastern acquisition—”
“Failed,” Rudra interrupted, eyes never leaving the table. “Because you negotiated like a man afraid of losing, not one prepared to dominate.”
The room went still.
“You cost this company three hundred million,” Rudra continued, voice even. “Do you know why I haven’t fired you yet?”
The man swallowed hard. “N–No, sir.”
“Because fear is a teacher. And today, you learned.”
He slid a file across the table.
“Fix it. Or walk out by sunset.”
The director nodded repeatedly, as though survival itself depended on agreement.
Rudra turned his attention to another executive.
“You,” he said, without naming. “The Dubai accounts.”
The woman straightened. “All secured, sir.”
Rudra tapped his finger once on the table.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Her confidence cracked.
“There’s a leak,” she admitted quietly.
Rudra leaned back.
“Find it. Bury it. And if the leak has a name—make sure the name disappears from the industry.”
No raised voice.
No threats.
Just certainty.
Outside the glass walls, assistants exchanged silent glances. Rumors moved faster than elevators—Rudra Rathore had destroyed three conglomerates without ever stepping into court.
A man at the far end finally gathered the courage to speak.
“Sir… there’s pressure from the board. They want you to slow down expansion.”
Rudra looked at him for the first time.
It felt like standing in front of an oncoming storm.
“Tell the board,” Rudra said softly, “that I don’t slow down.”
Silence swallowed the room.
“And remind them—this empire exists because I allowed it to.”
The meeting ended exactly when Rudra stood. Not a second longer.
As he walked out, his head of security fell into step beside him.
“Sir,” the man said in a low voice, “there’s unusual movement in the underworld circuits. Someone’s testing boundaries.”
Rudra stopped.
Just once.
His jaw tightened—not in fear, but recognition.
“Let them test,” he said coldly. “I don’t break easily.”
The elevator doors closed.
By nightfall, the city glowed beneath his window.
By midnight, he was still working.
It was past two when Rudra finally returned to the mansion.The house was dark—except for the kitchen light.
Meera Rathore stood there waiting, holding a covered plate, eyes tired but hopeful.“You haven’t eaten,” she said softly.
He did not stop , didn't look.
He just simply replied "I am not hungry" cold detached and emotionless and walked past her
Meera stood frozen, the warmth of the food cooling in her hands.
he continued upstairs .The light in the kitchen dimmed.
And somewhere deep within the Rathore mansion, a storm waited to break.
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Finally I have completed my stories 1st chapter.
Honestly saying I never thought writing could be this hard,It takes so much of your energy and you start overthinking but nevertheless here's my stories 1st chapter
Please do let me know how you liked my story and which part really cought your heart
Enjoy
Yours
@daisyglow
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