✿HAPPY READING✿

The next morning, Arshi's house was wrapped in chaos. Heena's voice echoed through the rooms as she moved from one corner to another, checking and rechecking everything.

"Make sure everything is packed properly," she said anxiously.

"Ammi, I've packed everything," Arshi replied, trying to reassure her.It was time for her train.

Prakash Uncle (Raavi's husband) was ready to leave for the station with her.

Outside the house, everyone had gathered. Raavi stood with Sujata beside her. Diya and Siya were there too, and Siya's two year old son, Rudra, clung to her side.

Raavi and Sujata placed their hands over Arshi's head, blessing her. Siya and Diya hugged her tightly, refusing to let go for a moment longer than necessary.

Then Rudra waddled forward, wrapping his tiny arms around her legs.

"Maasi... Rudra miss you," he said in his soft baby voice.

Everyone laughed through the heaviness in their hearts.

Arshi smiled and bent down, kissing his head before standing up. Her eyes then found her mother.

Heena stood quietly now, her eyes glistening, emotions finally catching up to her. Arshi walked up to her and wrapped her arms around her.

"Ammi," she whispered, "why are you crying?"

Heena held her tightly.

"Take care of yourself," she said softly. "Stay away from boys. Don't fight with everyone. And don't get into too much mischief."Arshi smiled, stepping back gently.

"Yes, Amma. I won't do anything. I'll stay nicely," she said playfully.

("Bas dil nahi kar raha tumhe bhejne ka, ajeeb sa dar lag raha hai,")

"But my heart just doesn't want to send you," Heena admitted, her voice trembling. "I have this strange fear."

"Oh, Ammi," Arshi said, holding her hands. "I'll be fine. I'll call you the moment I reach."

With one last look at everyone, she left for the station.

Prakash Uncle made sure her seat was settled, her luggage arranged, and that she was comfortable.

"Take care of yourself, beta," he said, patting her head. "If anything happens, call me immediately."

Arshi smiled beneath her abaya. Her kohl-lined eyes shimmered as she looked up at him.

"Yes, Mousa ji," she said softly. "I'll be fine. You take care of yourself too." He nodded, unable to say more.

He had watched her grow since she was a child, her laughter, her boldness, her fierce little heart always lighting up their days. And now, as she left to chase her dreams, it hurt in a way he hadn't expected.

He stepped out of the train.The engine roared to life.

Arshi waved at him through the window. The same little girl who once ran straight into his arms was now leaving the city behind.A tear slipped from his eye.

He wiped it away quickly. Some goodbyes were harder.

Agra

Kashif called out from the living room,

"Reyan... Reyan!"

"Yes, Baba?" Reyan replied as he stepped out of his room.

"Noori is arriving today," Kashif said. "She'll reach by night. I might not be able to come back from the police station in time, so go and pick her up."

"Yes, Baba," Reyan nodded.

Reyan was twenty years old, a first-year college student, two years younger than Arshi. They were cousins who had once shared a strong bond but over the years, their conversations had slowly faded. And now, after so long, she was coming to stay in their house again.

Asiya came rushing out of her room.

"Really, Baba? Noori Aapi is coming?" she asked, eyes shining with excitement. Kashif smiled faintly and nodded.

Asiya was fifteen years old, Reyan's younger sister, full of energy and curiosity. Kashif sat down at the dining table and unfolded the newspaper. The front-page headline immediately caught his attention:

"ACP Krishiv Veer Singh Busts Smuggling Racket, Drug-Filled Trucks Seized."

He set the paper aside just as his wife placed breakfast on the table. Reyan and Asiya joined them.

"There hasn't been a single week without ACP making headlines," Kashif remarked.

"Yes, Papa," Reyan agreed while taking a bite. "Every week it's something new and always something good. No one even dares to question him."

"Whatever it is," Kashif said calmly, sipping his tea, "no one has proof against him till date. And whatever he does benefits the department and the public."

His wife shot them a sharp look.

"Enough politics early in the morning. Eat quietly."The table fell silent.

Meanwhile,

Krishiv Veer walked into the Commissioner's office.

The Commissioner looked up, his smile widening instantly. "Come, come, Sultan," he said warmly.

Krishiv stepped forward and stood straight. "You called me, sir?"

"Yes, yes, take a seat," the Commissioner said. "Everywhere I go, I hear only your name. Officers like you are rare. Well done. The department is proud of you."

Krishiv simply gave a brief nod.

Just then, Manish entered the office. His eyes flicked toward Krishiv, irritation flashing for a second before he masked it.

"Jai Hind, sir," Manish said.

"We're giving you a leave letter, Manish," the Commissioner announced.

"But sir..." Manish began.

"Enough," the Commissioner interrupted, handing him the letter. "Go take a break. You need it."

Manish's fingers curled into a fist, but he said nothing. His gaze drifted to Krishiv, who sat there silently, unaffected.

They were from the same batch, yet Krishiv had risen faster. It wasn't about the promotions, it was the way everyone treated him. Ministers, MLAs, senior officers, he had connections everywhere. He knew exactly which strings to pull, and when.

And Krishiv knew something else too: no one dared go against him. Not because they couldn't, but because the day he fell, countless powerful lives would fall with him.

That was why people called him Sultan.

Because he was the only officer powerful enough to shake even political giants.

Krishiv stood up.

"Alright, sir. I'll take your leave."

"Radhe Radhe." And with that, he walked out.

.

.

It was already night when Arshi stepped down from the train. One bag hung loosely from her shoulder while she pulled the suitcase behind her. The station buzzed with distant announcements and tired faces, but she paused, scanning the crowd. She dialed Reyan's number, and then she saw him.

He stood a little distance away, looking around restlessly, searching.

"Reyan," Arshi called out.

He turned instantly. Recognition lit up his face, followed by a warm, familiar smile. He walked toward her and took the bag and suitcase from her hands.

"Assalamu alaikum, aapi," he greeted softly.

"Wa-alaikum salam," she replied.

A quiet warmth settled in Arshi's chest. She had worried it might feel awkward after all these years, but Reyan was still the same, easy, gentle, unchanged.

They walked toward the parking area together.

"Baba couldn't come," Reyan said apologetically. "He got stuck at the police station again."

"It's okay," Arshi replied with a small smile.

Reyan placed her luggage into the car and slid into the driver's seat.

"So... you've learned how to drive now?" Arshi teased as she settled into the passenger seat.

"Yes," he replied, fastening his seatbelt. "I have."

As the car moved onto the quiet road, Reyan glanced at her.

"Would you like to eat something?"

"No," Arshi said, already leaning her head back. "Right now, I just want to sleep. Take me home first."

When they reached the house, Arshi greeted her mami with salaam. Asiya was already asleep, and Kashif hadn't returned yet. The house was small, two storeys tall, modest, warm, and comforting.

Reyan carried her bags upstairs and stopped outside a neatly arranged room.

"This is your room," he said, setting the luggage down. "Do you want me to bring you something to eat?"

She shook her head gently.

"Alright," Reyan said, stepping back. The door closed softly behind him.

Arshi removed her abaya, changed into a simple cotton suit and salwar, and sank onto the bed without another thought. The long journey finally caught up with her, and within moments, she slipped into a deep, heavy sleep.

.

.

Krishiv stepped into the house that carried his name.

It was well past midnight. As always, the lights were dim and the corridors silent, everyone asleep. Not because he expected them to wait, but because this had long become the routine.

He went straight to his room and then into the bathroom.

Cold water crashed against his skin, numbing his muscles, but not his senses. When he came out, wearing only trousers, he towel-dried his hair slowly. Water still clung to his body, tracing the lines of a long, hardened frame shaped by years of violence and discipline. He stood before the mirror.

The reflection stared back, along with the scars. Deep, permanent marks etched into his skin like medals no one ever awarded. His toned body glistened with the mark he had earned. They didn't hurt anymore but never faded either.

This was how SULTAN was made.

Not wanting to think further, he dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes.

The next day was already slipping toward noon when loud knocking jolted him awake.

He ignored it, once, twice, until irritation snapped something inside him. With a low curse, he got up, grabbed his gun, and swung the door open.

The barrel pointed straight at the person outside.

"B-bhaiya... it's me," Jai stammered, his voice shaking. "Papa sent me. He's calling you."

Krishiv's eyes didn't soften.

(Agar dubara meri neend khraab ki to isi bandook se tumhara khopda khol dunga...niklo )

"If you disturb my sleep again," he said coldly, "I'll blow your skull apart with this. Get out."

He slammed the door shut.

A while later, Krishiv emerged dressed in a white shirt and black pants, sharp, controlled, unreadable.

His chachi was serving breakfast. Jai and Jiya, his cousins, sat quietly at the dining table. His tauji sat at the head.

"Radhe Radhe, tauji," Krishiv said, taking his seat.

"Kyu re lalla aaj kal bade charche me ho,"his uncle said with a faint smile.

( "Well, lalla, your name's been all over the papers lately.")

"Ji tauji," Krishiv replied, calmly picking up a piece of toast.

"What about that MLA matter?" his uncle asked.

"He'll be coming here this evening," Krishiv said evenly. "You can talk to him then."

His uncle nodded in satisfaction.

Krishiv finished his toast and stood up.

"Arey lalla kha kar ja kuch aur," his chachi urged, moving toward him.

("Eat something more before you go,")

"No, taiji. I've got work," he said simply, already walking away.

Morning light crept in when Arshi finally stirred.

Her head felt heavy, sleep had claimed her far too late, and she'd missed her morning prayer. With a tired sigh, she dragged herself to the bathroom. A warm shower cleared some of the fog. She dressed in a simple white kurti and salwar, draping a white dupatta over her head before heading downstairs. Kashif was on the phone.

"Asalamualaikum, Mamu," she greeted softly.

He looked up and smiled. "Walekum salam, meri bachhi. I'm talking to your Ammi." He handed her the phone.

Arshi reassured her mother that she'd reached safely and had only slept in a little. After the call ended, she turned to see her mami setting breakfast on the table.

"Asalamualaikum, Mami."

"Walekum salam. Come, everyone, breakfast is ready."

Asiya ran in and hugged Arshi tightly. "Noori aapi!" she squealed, and Arshi smiled, kissing her head.

After breakfast, Kashif adjusted his cap.

"I've applied for your admission. Some forms are left, go fill them today with Reyan."

"Ji, Mamu."

"I'll be late. Call me if you need anything," he said, and left.

Later, Arshi distributed the gifts she'd brought. By noon, she and Reyan entered the college campus. Arshi was in her abaya, only her sharp, kohl-lined brown eyes visible.

After submitting the forms, Reyan asked her to wait while he finished the process.

She was sitting quietly when she heard a sob. Arshi turned and Her breath caught.

A girl was running across the campus, terrified, her sleeves torn, her face streaked with tears. A boy chased her openly, no one stopped him. Students watched. No one moved. The girl stumbled and fell.

The boy hovered over her, smiling like he owned the world. Something inside Arshi snapped.

Before the boy could touch the girl, a sharp blow sent him crashing to the ground. Gasps rang out.

Arshi stood there, gripping a rod, her eyes blazing. She struck again, then before the boy could respond , another struck came, until the boy lay still, stunned and bleeding.

She dropped the rod, rushed to the girl, and helped her up, shielding her.

A police siren wailed.

Officers arrived quickly.

"Who did this?" one demanded watching the boy lying and bleeding badly.

"I did," Arshi said coldly.

The policeman scoffed. "Do you even know who he is? A minister's son."

"Oh," Arshi laughed bitterly. "To dalali karne aaye ho iski."

("So you've come to do his favour?")

"Watch your mouth," he barked.

"Watch your uniform," she shot back. "That girl was being assaulted. You didn't come then. Now you've to defend this bloody creep." She stepped forward.

"Take him into custody. If you don't, I'll call the media, right now. I have witnesses, CCTV footage, and video evidence. Then your uniform comes off too and that minister's son will also be answerable."

The policeman wiped his forehead and stepped aside to make a call.

"Sir... the minister's son caused trouble. A girl's creating chaos."

"What? You can't handle one girl?" the senior officer snapped.

"She's right, sir. She had proof. If we don't act, this will explode." A pause.

"Where's Sultan?"

"I don't know, sir."

"I'll call letting him know. Only he can handle this."

Krishiv Veer listened silently.

Minister's son. "Prank." Girl involved.

His face remained calm, but his fingers tightened. He was nearby. He arrived within minutes.

The campus shifted the moment he walked in.

Black boots echoed against the ground. His presence alone silenced whispers. Goggles hid his eyes, his sharp frame toned body drew glances. He rarely appeared before the media, yet his name lived everywhere. The girls and even boys watched him mesmerized by his appearance.

"Jai Hind, sir," the policeman said nervously.

"What's the matter?" Krishiv asked.

"There is a girl, she's not letting us take the boy without custody."

Krishiv exhaled slowly.

"For this small issue?" He walked to the boy lying on the ground.

"He's badly beaten. A case will be registered, for this."

Without even glancing at Arshi, he ordered, "Take him to the hospital."

Arshi's blood boiled who was standing a little far.

Before Krishiv could turn away, a hand grabbed his collar. The air froze.

No one had ever dared, not even politicians and officers to reach his collar.

Krishiv turned slowly.

Fury met destruction.

"Baap ka raaj hai tumhare?"Arshi shouted.

("Is this your father's kingdom?" )

"Nahi Aapka!" he replied calmly, his charcoal eyes locked on her brown fierce eyes.

"(No ,Yours!")

"Tabhi toh on duty officer ke collar pe hath daal diya," he said quietly tilting his head.

("That's why you grabbed the collar of on duty police officer.")

"HATH HATAO," he said quietly.

(Remove your hand)

The chill in his voice made her pause, she felt a shiver in her spine, but only for a second. She stepped back.

"You think it's okay to grab an on-duty officer's collar?"

"Officer?" she laughed sharply. "Or criminal? That girl was assaulted and you all came to protect the monster."

"Your violence isn't justified either," Krishiv said evenly.

"And grabbing my collar was your second mistake. I can arrest you now."

"Hum kisi ke baap se nahi darte," Arshi snapped. "The criminal deserves punishment and he will get it."

(I don't fear anyone)

He tilted his head, mildly amused. The girl barely reached his shoulder but her attitude is in the seventh sky.

"Do you know who I am?"

"It doesn't matter," she said fiercely."

Agar aap police wale hain toh apne wardi ki izzat kariye aur us ladki ko insaaf dilaiyye. Warna talwe chatne wale log police officer nahi paltu kutte hote hain."

( "If you wear the uniform, respect it. Give that girl justice. Otherwise, bootlickers aren't officers, they're pets.")

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Krishiv's jaw tightened.

"I respect women. Otherwise, you'd know exactly who I am and what I can do." His eyes blazed in fury.

"Respect?" Arshi pulled the girl forward.

"Look at her. Look at what he did." Krishiv looked.

And everything shifted. This wasn't a prank. He was told that it's a little prank with a girl but that boy literally assaulted her.

"If you respect women, then give her the justice," she said.

His eyes hardened and fingers clenched in fists.

"Register her complaint."

A policeman rushed forward.

"Who is she to you? The policeman asked the girl who was assaulted.

"No one," she said softly. "She just saved my life."

Krishiv's steps halted, he turned back to look at Arshi.

Slowly, he removed his goggles. She had no one to her still she had saved and fought for her. This amused him because in today's world no one thinks about others.

"Ye chingari hai kon Raghu,"he asked in amusement, his eyes stuck over her, her face hidden but her sharp brown almond eyes, so fiercely pretty did something to him.

("Who is this spark, Raghu?" )

"No idea, Sultan," Raghu muttered."par puri ki puri aafat hai."

( "But she's a pure disaster.")

Krishiv, still looking at her, then she turned, her fierce eyes once again found him. The anger, the fury was still there. And it somehow amused and thrilled him. No one till date has ever dared like her. Girls try to be in his good books but today, the first time someone messed with him.

Krishiv straightened his collar, put his goggles back on, and turned away.

"Where's the minister's son?"

"Hospital, sir."

"Good," Krishiv said coldly. "Let's make him more worthy of it."

He turned again,

But the girl in the abaya was gone.

Only the victim remains behind, reporting.

For the first time in years, Sultan searched for someone

And found nothing.

On the other side...

Reyan returned just in time to see chaos unfold.

The moment his eyes landed on the scene, Arshi gripping the man's collar, cold sweat broke out across his back. For a second, his feet refused to move. Fear rooted him to the spot. Then instinct kicked in.

He rushed forward and forcefully pulled Arshi away, dragging her toward the parking area.

"Aapi, what did you just do?" Reyan hissed, panic sharp in his voice. "Do you even know who that man is?"

"Whoever he is, I don't care," Arshi snapped, walking beside him. "Sb ke sab darpok hai yaha, kisi me dam nahi ki dusre ki madad kare. Aur bade aaye humko darane wale."

("Everyone here is spineless. Not one person had the courage to help. And then they come to threaten me?")

Reyan opened the car door for her, his hands shaking.

"Arey meri jhansi ki rani, ye Patna nahi hai, ye Agra hai. Aur jiska collar pakda tha aapne wo agra ka Sultan hai."

("Aapi... this isn't Patna. This is Agra. And the man whose collar you grabbed, he's Sultan of Agra.")

She scoffed as she sat inside.

"You're saying that as if he owns the city."

Reyan jumped into the driver's seat and started the car, his grip tight on the steering wheel.

"He doesn't own it," he said quietly, fear laced in every word. "He has the power to make the ones who own it bow. Political leaders are afraid of him. And you grabbed him by the collar." Inside, Reyan was screaming in fear.

"Ya Allah, why are you all so scared?" Arshi shot back. "He's just a policeman. I didn't fight a gangster."

Reyan let out a sharp breath.

"Aapi... he's both. Police and gangster, Agra's version. I don't even know how to explain this to you. Thank God you were wearing a veil. He didn't see your face."

"And if he had?" Arshi scoffed, chin lifted. "Us maa ke ladle ko hum achhe se sudhaarte. Bada aya gunda. Yamuna ghat se Ganga ghat tak ragad dete usko."

("I'd have fixed that mama's boy properly. Big talker. I'd drag him from Yamuna Ghat to Ganga Ghat.")

Reyan shook his head helplessly. She was impossible.

"Please," he said finally, softer now. "Don't tell anyone at home about this."

She shot him a sharp glare.

"At least listen to me," he added quickly. "Otherwise Baba won't wait for a second, he'll rip out my skin first."

Arshi looked away, lips pressed tight, eyes still burning.

And Reyan drove on, praying that Agra's Sultan would forget the girl in the abaya(veil).