(Scene: Midnight. A private farmhouse far from the city, where power plays sleep behind thick walls. The world thinks he’s a loyal family man — a wife, two toddlers, smiling for the camera. But behind closed doors? Behrav raj lives by his own rules. And right now, he’s living in sin — the kind he’d burn the world for.)

*The facade is perfect — a political marriage, two children, a wife who fits the public image like a stitched mask. But Behravraj? He never married for love. He married for votes. For strategy. For power.

But love? Lust? Obsession? That began the day he saw YN.

And now, he lies in bed, the darkness barely lit by the golden wall lamps, arms wrapped around her like he’s guarding treasure. Her curves molded into his chest, face buried under his chin, her hair wild on the pillow, body warm and bare against him.

She’s the opposite of his world. Soft. Rebellious. Beautiful enough to make devils fall to their knees. And him? He’s already fallen.

His fingers trace her waist slowly, possessively, like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he lets go.

Behrav Raj (muttering against her ear, voice low and gritty): “Woh ghar… woh biwi… woh bachhe… sab dikhawa hai. Sach toh tu hai. Aur yeh jo raat hai… yeh asli hai.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder, lingering, breathing her in like she’s the only peace he’s ever known.

Behrav Raj (calmer now, but darker): “Tere liye main sab jalaa dunga. Kursi bhi, naam bhi. Bas tu kah de… main tera hoon.”