Prince Of Azra

Evan opened the door with a warm grin, half-expecting to see his mother standing there with her usual tired smile. Kael, his furry sidekick, wagged her tail beside him, ears perked in hopeful anticipation.

But that smile on Evan's face vanished in an instant.

Standing at the door, grinning like a wolf in a chicken coop, was the last person Evan wanted to see—Jude.

"Oh," Evan muttered, his face sinking into a stone-cold scowl. His whole mood flipped like a switch. He didn't even try to hide it.

Jude's grin widened the moment their eyes met. "Your mum's back yet?" he asked, his voice sugary and smug at the same time.

"No. Not yet," Evan said flatly, already halfway through the motion of closing the door.

But Jude slid his boot between the frame and the door.

"Now, now," he said smoothly, "if she's not around, what's the harm in letting me in? It's not like I'm a stranger."

Evan gave him a glare that could peel paint.

I wish I could punch you in the face, Evan thought.

"Hey, fat boy," Jude snorted. "Don't just stand there lookin' like an overfed gorilla. I'm talkin' to you."

Evan pushed harder on the door, but Jude didn't budge. With one shove, the man barged through, knocking Evan clean off his feet. He hit the ground with a soft thud—his bulky frame cushioned the fall, but it still rattled him. His body, weighing nearly 180 kilograms, made it hard for him to sit up quickly. Jude didn't help. He pressed his boot firmly on Evan's belly, pinning him like a bug on display.

Jude always found a way to humiliate him.

Evan hated this man.

Not just because Jude was a jerk or a bully—but because no one, not even his mother, believed him. Jude was her boyfriend, the charming ex-military guy she met years ago, and in her eyes, he could do no wrong.

Jude never left bruises. Never left marks. Just words and petty power plays. Just enough to break Evan down without evidence.

The worst part? Evan tried everything to expose him.

He once hid a camera in the living room. It mysteriously went blank the day he tried to show his mom the footage. Same with audio recordings—deleted without explanation. Jude always seemed one step ahead.

That's why Evan nicknamed him "The Wizard."

And whenever his mum was around, Jude turned into the sweetest man alive. Like flipping a switch. Smiling, helping, even calling Evan "champ" in front of her. But the moment she was gone, the real face came out.

Evan's mum never believed any of it.

And Evan couldn't stand to hurt her. She was the only person in the world who ever cared about him. So even when she dismissed his complaints, even when it broke his heart—he kept quiet. For her.

Jude finally lifted his boot off Evan's belly and began pacing the room like he owned it. "Been two months," he said, smirking. "You didn't even ask about me. Is that how you treat your future stepdad?"

Evan slowly sat up, his chest heaving, his cheeks puffed, looking like a volcano ready to erupt.

Jude glanced at his wristwatch. "7:10. She should be on her way. Bet she'll be thrilled I got back early."

Evan stood, trembling with rage. His fingers clenched into fists. His brain screamed, Make him hit you. Just once. Let her walk in and see it.

With a loud, defiant scream, he charged at Jude like a cartoon soldier in a desperate battle cry. But before he even got close, Jude casually held out one arm and grabbed him by the forehead.

Evan's short arms swung wildly in the air.

Jude barely moved. "You're just pathetic," he said, chuckling. "Fat little pig."

The words stung, but Evan was numb to them now.

What he wasn't numb to was the sudden spin. Jude twisted his head lightly with his palm and spun him around like a ragdoll. Evan's world tilted. He staggered and collapsed onto the couch, his head spinning, and his vision swimming in circles.

"Dizzy yet?" Jude said, walking past him like nothing had happened.

Evan slumped deeper into the couch, helpless and humiliated. Jude continued pacing the room like a hawk on surveillance, scanning every shelf, every piece of furniture. It was clear he was checking for changes or clues—probably making sure Evan hadn't found a new way to expose him.

But one place he could never enter?

Evan's room.

The only place in the house with a biometric lock—eyescan only. Not even his mum could open it without his permission.

That room was his safe zone. His only escape.

And right now, he wished more than anything that he was in it, door locked, game loaded and the world outside shut out.

But instead, he sat on the couch, his stomach still aching, his little pride crushed again.

And Jude—The Wizard—just smiled, as if everything was right in the world.

About an hour later, Evan was still trying to steady himself. The room didn't spin as much anymore, but his body was clearly worn out. He sat quietly on the couch, one hand resting on his knee, eyes half-lidded. Kael, his cat, sat beside him without a sound, gently curling up next to his leg as if that was her little way of comforting him.

Across the room, Jude was lost in his phone, completely zoned out, probably on TikTok or checking sports news. He didn't even look up until the doorbell rang again.

He jumped slightly, looked toward the front door, then stood and strolled over to open it.

The second he pulled it open, a loud voice cut through the house.

"Oh my God, Jude! You're back!" Theresa's voice rang with joy.

Jude barely had time to react before she threw her arms around him. They hugged each other tightly, and exchanged a quick kiss like old lovers reunited after a war.

Evan, hearing the voice, straightened a little where he sat. The dizziness was fading, and now he felt more like himself.

Theresa, holding a shopping bag in one hand, stepped inside, looking around. "Where's Evan?" she asked quickly, her tone already shifting into mother-mode.

Jude took the bag from her and nodded toward the living room.

"Over there. He's doing better," he said as they walked toward the dining area, which sat just beside the living room. Jude helped set down the groceries on the table.

Theresa made her way over to her son. She crouched beside him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Hey baby," she whispered, pressing a light kiss to his temple. She pulled back to look at him, gently brushing his hair out of his face. "You must be really hungry… and tired," she said, locking eyes with him. Her expression was warm but slightly worried.

Evan gave her a small nod, too tired to speak, but the look in his eyes said everything.

"Alright then," she smiled. "Let me go fix something up. Dinner will be ready in no time."

She gave his shoulder one last squeeze before heading to the kitchen, unaware of the trauma his son is passing through from the hands of her boyfriend.