The streets respected him.

The station feared him.

And the officers? They dared not look him in the eye.

Reyansh Rathore—the iron-willed IPS officer—walked through the corridors of the Officer Colony with his uniform sharp, buttons polished, and his eyes unreadable. He had just wrapped up a long day of surprise inspections, back-to-back reports, and a few scoldings handed out to careless subordinates.

"Rules aren't suggestions," he had growled at a junior who showed up late on duty. His voice had echoed through the station walls like thunder. No one argued. No one ever did.

But the moment he reached Apartment 484, the key turned, and he stepped inside—

—everything about him melted.

The silence of his home greeted him first. Then, the soft aroma of Siya’s warm dinner floated from the kitchen. But before he even placed his cap on the rack, he whispered with a tired sigh:

“Siya…”

She peeked out from the bedroom in her casual nightwear, hair tied in a lazy bun, and a smile that could stop time. “Oh ho, my roaring lion is back.”

And just like that, Reyansh dropped the act.

He walked straight to her like a lost child finding his home after war. His arms wrapped around her waist, face nuzzling into her chest like a baby.

“You scolded people again, didn’t you?” she teased, stroking his hair.

“I had to. They don’t listen,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her.

“You’re so scary outside,” she smirked, “and such a baby with me.”

“I’m only yours,” he muttered, eyes closed, refusing to let her go.

She pulled him to the bed like a sleepy toddler, made him lie on her lap, and gently massaged his forehead. He held her hand over his heart. “No one gets this side of me. Only you.”

She chuckled. “Lucky me, huh?”

He nodded, sleepy already. “Very lucky.”

Just before his eyes drifted shut, he whispered, “If I’m your lion, then you’re my peace.”

That night, Reyansh—the protector of many—slept like a child in the arms of the only woman who made his fortress feel like home.

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