Scene 1: Veerayut Mansion Chronicles
The Veerayut mansion was calm and quiet, its towering walls bathed in a golden evening hue. The chandeliers glowed warmly against the subtle, classy interior. In the family lounge, the three brothers—Rithvik, Pakorn, and Thanwa—sat sprawled across their usual spots. The large velvet sectional seemed to sink slightly under their combined exhaustion after a long day at work. But peace was always temporary in the Veerayut household—especially when Thanwa was in the mood to talk, which was always.
Rithvik, seated in his usual composed posture with a glass of warm water, looked between his two brothers.
"So," he began slowly, eyes narrowing, "what exactly were you two doing during lunch break with Rhea?"
Pakorn immediately stiffened while Thanwa choked on his juice.
"W-What do you mean? Just having lunch like responsible employees," Thanwa offered, smiling too hard.
Rithvik gave a look. The kind of look that peeled through lies like an onion.
"You were seated in a corner booth, behind fake plants. That didn't look like a normal lunch."
Pakorn spoke quickly. "We were... uh... practicing stealth. Company bonding... spy-themed... for... team building."
Rithvik raised an eyebrow. "Team building behind a plant? Thanwa, were you planning a prank?"
Thanwa's eyes darted to Pakorn, then back to Rithvik. He waved his hands dramatically. "No! What? Prank? Never! I'm a grown-up now. I'm twenty-eight and emotionally evolved."
Rithvik looked unconvinced. "Then what were you doing? And what does Rhea have to do with your spy mission?"
Pakorn whispered to Thanwa, "He's digging too close. He's gonna find out. Abort mission. Abort."
Rithvik, narrowing his eyes even more, crossed his arms. "Are you hiding something from me?"
Thanwa let out a nervous laugh and tried changing the topic the worst way possible.
"Maybe you're just jealous I was talking to Rhea. Is that what this is about, Rith? Are you... threatened by my flirting skills?"
Pakorn looked at him with betrayal. "That's your strategy?"
Rithvik gave him a flat stare. "Thanwa, do you have feelings for Rhea?"
Thanwa's face twisted like someone asked him to eat raw bitter gourd. "Bro. Seriously? You already know I don't like girls. I've been telling you since college. Women are amazing, beautiful, wonderful—but romantically? Not for me."
Pakorn jumped in with a dry smirk. "Yeah, and unfortunately, boys don't like him either."
Thanwa's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me! That is slander!"
"It's truth, sweetie."
"Boys don't like me because somewhere, out there, my soulmate is praying really hard for me to stay single so he can make a grand, dramatic entrance into my life. I'm waiting with a dramatic soundtrack ready," Thanwa declared, clutching his chest.
Pakorn muttered, "Probably praying in a parallel universe... or purgatory."
Rithvik, despite himself, laughed quietly, hiding it behind his glass. The nonsense, the pure idiocy—it was familiar. It was comforting.
Seeing that rare curve of a smile on their eldest brother's face, both Thanwa and Pakorn glanced at each other, then launched forward and hugged him tight.
"Bro, smile like that more often," Pakorn said, patting his back. "You actually look human."
Thanwa grinned. "Seriously, your default setting is ice king. But this? This is soft-serve Rithvik. We love him."
Rithvik grumbled, but didn't push them off. He let them hug him for a moment longer before straightening up.
"If you clowns are done, go to bed. Tomorrow's meeting is important, and if either of you is late, I'll personally assign you to audit inventory for a month."
"Whoa! Harsh. Good night, Mr. Ice-Cream CEO," Thanwa said with a mock salute.
"Sweet dreams, oh mighty ruler of spreadsheets," Pakorn added, dragging Thanwa by the arm as they walked toward their respective rooms.
Rithvik watched them go, shaking his head with a faint smile. The madness in the mansion never truly stopped—but maybe that was exactly what kept him sane.
...
Scene 2: The Night No One Sees
The mansion had long fallen into silence. Crickets chirped faintly outside the window, and the moonlight spilled through the glass, casting silver patterns across the polished floor of Rithvik Veerayut's bedroom.
Rithvik stepped inside, loosening his tie and pulling it off with a quiet sigh. His steps were precise, his motions habitual. He placed the tie on the rack, unbuttoned his cuffs, and walked to the sleek coffee machine on the side table. Without a second thought, he poured himself a cup of strong black coffee.
It was almost midnight.
Most people wouldn't drink coffee this late. But for Rithvik... it wasn't a choice. It was a necessity.
He took a sip, the bitterness familiar on his tongue. There was no one to see him now—no employees to impress, no brothers to scold or protect, no expectations to carry. Just Rithvik, alone in his room.
He placed the cup down and walked into the bathroom. Cold water splashed onto his face as he tried to wash away the exhaustion he didn't dare show. He stared at the man in the mirror—sharp jawline, unreadable eyes, calm.
But he knew it was a lie. That face was a mask. A perfectly crafted mask he wore every single day.
When he returned to bed, he turned off the lights, letting darkness take over the room.
The bed was large. Too large. Too cold.
He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Minutes passed. Then hours. He blinked at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, his mind refusing to slow down.
This wasn't new.
Rithvik hadn't slept properly in months. Insomnia had become an unwelcome companion—one he had never introduced to anyone.
He didn't want his brothers to worry. He didn't want anyone to see him as weak. A CEO with sleepless nights? A Veerayut who battled shadows no one else could see?
No. He had buried it deep. Like everything else.
But some nights...
Some nights, it didn't stay buried.
---
The Nightmare
At around 3 AM, when his eyes finally fluttered shut from sheer mental exhaustion, the dreams began.
And they weren't dreams.
They were memories. Warped, twisted, drenched in emotion.
Rain.
Endless rain.
Rithvik stood in the middle of a street soaked in water, the streetlights flickering like dying stars. His white shirt clung to his skin, and his breath came out ragged.
Across the street, a figure walked away.
Her face—blurred. Fading.
He couldn't move.
His mouth opened, but no sound came.
The world tilted.
And then—
"Don't leave me!" His voice broke in the storm. "Please—don't leave me!"
He started running, stumbling on the wet ground, reaching for the figure that grew smaller and smaller...
"I need you—Don't go! Please!"
But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't reach her.
Then, suddenly, she was gone.
And he was alone.
Rain pouring. Thunder cracking.
And silence.
Rithvik's scream echoed in the void—one not of anger, but of unbearable pain. Of loss. Of desperation.
---
Reality
He woke up with a jolt, sitting upright in bed, gasping for air. His chest heaved. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his hands shaking.
He rubbed his face harshly.
Not again.
He looked at the clock. 4:07 AM.
Without another word, he got up. Walked straight to the coffee machine. Poured a fresh cup of black coffee with trembling fingers.
His face was pale, but his expression already hardening again.
He took a deep breath.
By morning, no one would know what happened.
Not Thanwa. Not Pakorn.
And definitely not Aarohi.
He couldn't afford to let anyone see this side. The side that still bled. The side that feared attachment. The side that was once left behind... and never recovered.
He walked to the window, sipping his coffee as the first traces of dawn crept across the sky.
From behind the glass, Rithvik Veerayut looked calm. Controlled. Powerful.
But inside?
Inside, the storm hadn't passed.
Not yet.
---