Hello everyone, it's me Heer.

'The Obsession between us' my very first book, and it belongs to the dark romance genre.

Before you begin, there's something I'd like to share with you-though if you're not interested, you're free to skip this part.

English is not my first language, so there may be grammatical mistakes throughout the story. I hope you'll look past them and focus on the emotions, the characters, and the journey.

If you enjoy the book, do tap the ⭐️star button. And don't feel shy to leave a comment-

and follow me so you don't miss any update.

Happy reading 🤍

°—°

A vast silence hung over the sprawling mansion, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Outside, guards stood like shadows with guns cradled in their hands, eyes scanning every inch of the perimeter. Some were visible, rigid and alert, while others melted into the darkness, hidden yet ready, their presence known only to those who dared look too closely.

This was no ordinary house. The Rajput Mansion loomed like a fortress of old, walls steeped in history, secrets buried deep within. Every shuttered window, every silent corridor seemed to hold its own warning: enter carelessly, and you would awaken forces far more dangerous than you could imagine. Suspense lingered in the air, thick and palpable, as if the mansion itself were watching, waiting.

Inside the house

The woman stepped out of the kitchen, moving toward the hall with careful, deliberate steps. A cake tray rested in her hands, the cream trembling slightly as she walked. Her voice followed before she fully entered the room-light, hopeful, unaware.

"Today our daughter is coming back victorious, Vikram..."

In the hall, Vikram sat bent over his work. The moment her words reached him, his hands stilled. Slowly, he lifted his head. A smile curved his lips-not loud, not celebratory, but deep and controlled.

"Of course," he said quietly.

"Once again she secured first place in the dance competition. Across all states."

For a second, Shreya simply stared at him. Then her smile bloomed, wide and disbelieving.

"I still can't believe it... our little Shrvi. When did she grow into such a big dancer?"

Vikram leaned back, pride flickering in his eyes like a restrained flame.

"Believe it, Shreya," he replied.

"She's only just begun. She's meant for much more."

Shreya's gaze drifted around the hall. Wrappers, bags, half-opened boxes-everything lay scattered, chaotic.

"What are you doing with all this?" she asked, her tone puzzled.

Without looking up, Vikram continued packing.

"Chocolates," he said.

"For my Shrvi."

Shreya let out a soft laugh, shaking her head at the familiar sight of a father undone by love.

"Lekin aaj achanak se bahar itne saare log kyun hain?" she whispered, her voice laced with curiosity, but suspicion curled around every word. Her eyes darted, scanning the silent guards, the hidden shadows, the tension that seemed to pulse from the mansion itself.

"Aise hi," he replied, voice calm, almost casual-but his words were a lie, and though he tried to mask it, something trembled beneath the surface. Yet, not a flicker crossed his face, no hint of the secret he carried. It was as if the mansion itself had swallowed it, leaving her with a gnawing unease, and the creeping suspicion that whatever was coming, they were standing right on the edge of it.

"And where is our elder daughter?" he asked.

"She's in her room," Shreya replied instinctively.

"I'll call her." as she took a step forward.

"Wait."

Vikram stood up slowly.

"I'll call my doll myself."

He had barely taken a step-

A sharp whistle cut through the house.

The sound didn't belong there.

They turned.

A girl descended the stairs, unhurried, almost careless. A crop top, a short skirt, hair loosely rolled, glasses resting on her nose. Minimal makeup. A phone dangling in her hand. She whistled again-low, slow, unsettling-like she owned the silence.

Vikram's face softened instantly.

"So you're awake, my daughter."

She smiled back at him. A smile that never quite reached her eyes.

Shreya spoke, pride rushing into her voice.

"Do you know? Shrvi has come first in the competition."

The girl didn't even look up from her phone.

"When my baby was competing," she said calmly,

"how could anyone else win?"

The confidence in her voice wasn't joy.

It was certainty.

"Come," Vikram said, gesturing to the sofa beside him.

"Sit with us."

"Yes, Dad."

She obeyed, sitting down, her fingers scrolling endlessly on her screen-as if the world in front of her barely existed.

Shreya sighed.

"This 'Dad' again. You've forgotten how to say 'Papa' completely."

The girl's lips curved faintly.

"Mumma... 'Dad' suits him better."

"Shreya," Vikram said quietly, his eyes sharp now,

"let her call me whatever she wants. Love doesn't lessen with words."

Shreya opened her mouth to respond-

But the girl spoke first.

"Yeah, Mumma," she said softly, her gaze never leaving her phone.

"Love or hate doesn't disappear just because of what you call someone."

She finally looked up, tilting her head toward Vikram.

"Right, Dad?"

Vikram answered with a small hum, smiling.

Something in Shreya's chest tightened.

"You both talk like this as if nothing matters," she muttered.

The girl stood abruptly and walked toward the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Shreya asked.

"Coffee."

"Wait, I'll make it-"

"It's okay, Mumma."

Her footsteps faded into the kitchen.

Shreya exhaled, lowering her voice as she turned to Vikram.

"You've raised both of them way too freely..."

Vikram didn't answer. He just blinked slowly and chuckled-once.

Then-

BANG.

The front door flew open violently.

The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot.

They turned.

Time stalled.

Shock crawled across their faces.

*

And somewhere far away-

An airport announcement echoed.

A girl stepped forward wearing a short black kurti paired with white trousers. Her makeup was minimal,. Wavy hair cascaded down to her waist, swaying softly with each step she took. A coffee mug rested in one hand, her phone in the other.

Her gaze remained fixed-straight ahead-locked on the car waiting beyond the airport gate.

The moment she crossed the gate-

A sharp, commanding voice cut through the air.

She turned her head slightly while continuing to walk, her face untouched by surprise, untouched by emotion.

To her side stood a boy-and before she could react, a girl rushed forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Pride gleamed in her eyes as she smiled broadly.

"Congratulations, my champion!"

She returned the hug-slow, calm, silent.

"Thanks... but you two?" she asked quietly.

Before the girl could answer, the boy spoke, his lips curling into a strange smile.

"Surprise. We know how much you love surprises."

That boy was Ritvik.

The girl holding her was Rhea-her friends.

"Miss Shravya Rajput," Ritvik said, his smile dark, hidden, unreadable.

Shravya met his gaze.

"Absolutely right," she replied coolly.

"But what if I decided to surprise you instead...?"

Rhea quickly cut in, excitement spilling from her voice.

"Actually, we surprised you-and we even planned a party!"

"Just come with us," she insisted.

Shravya shook her head faintly.

"My family is waiting for me."

"It's okay," Rhea said after a pause.

"Another day, then."

Then, with curiosity sparkling in her eyes, she asked,

"But when are you rejoining college?"

Before Shravya could answer-

Ritvik spoke.

"What will she even do by going back to college now?"

His smile deepened-slow, unsettling.

"She's already touched success," he added, scanning her from head to toe, suspicion dripping from his gaze.

"Fame came first, didn't it?"

He looked at her in a way that made her skin tighten-his eyes roaming shamelessly, tainted with something filthy and unspoken.

Before anything else could unfold-

SLAP.

The sharp sound cracked through the air.

The moment her hand swung, the sharp crack of the slap echoed through the bustling airport. Time seemed to slow. People paused mid-step, their eyes snapping toward them, curiosity and shock written across every face.

Rhea gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock.

Shravya's voice was low, cold, lethal.

"You're going to die anyway," she said calmly.

"So why waste your breath?"

She leaned slightly closer, her eyes dark.

"And if you keep creating scenes like this... death will knock on your door sooner than you think."

Without another word, she turned away.

She got into the car.

And left.

Ritvik stood frozen, watching her disappear. Rage and revenge burned in his eyes as he whispered-

"You'll pay dearly for that slap... Shravya Rajput."

Inside the house

A man entered dressed in a black suit cut to quiet perfection, a white shirt stark against the darkness, as if discipline itself clung to him. Thin-framed glasses rested on his face, sharpening an already dangerous calm, while a silver watch caught the light with every unhurried step-time obeyed him, not the other way around. His hair was slightly messy, not careless but deliberate, the kind of disorder that spoke of confidence untouched by fear.

Behind him, his men followed in silent formation, guns firm in their hands, filling the enemy's house with the weight of inevitable violence. He walked through it all without haste, as though the walls already belonged to him.

In the center of the hall, he claimed a chair like a throne. He sat back with royal ease, legs folded, one hand resting calmly on his knee and His other hand was wrapped tightly around a gun. No tension, no rush-only authority. He did not need to announce his power. His presence did that for him.

Shreya and Vikram froze.

Vikram recovered first.

"How did you people get inside?" he demanded, fear and fury clashing in his eyes-because he already knew the answer.

The moment his gaze met that man, his anger faltered. The air in the room thickened, his heartbeat giving him away. This wasn't a break-in; it was an arrival. And the man sitting there, calm and unbothered, was the last person he had ever hoped to see inside his own house.

"Guards?" he shouted toward the door.

"Guards!"

One of the men replied calmly, almost bored.

"They've been sent to the hospital."

Shreya gasped, terror flooding her face.

Vikram stiffened.

"What?"

"Baki sab kaha hai?" he shouted, rage tearing through his voice.

The other man answered without emotion, a cruel calm in his tone.

"Sabko jannat naseeb ho gayi."

The words hit like a gunshot.

Shreya froze. Her breath caught, blood draining from her face as her eyes flew to his. For a moment, the world shrank to that single exchange of looks-shock, disbelief, and a fear so sharp it rooted her to the spot.

He turned sharply toward the man sitting in the chair and roared,

"Who are you?"

The man smirked.

And replied softly-

"APKA HONE WALA DAMAD."

To be continued.....