29th February 2000
Darkness.
Not the kind that frightened him as a child. Not even the numb, silent black of death. This was something else.
Weightless.
Endless.
Quiet.
Then — a pull.
Like an invisible current, it dragged him through the void. There was no form, no time, no name. He had once been a man — a billionaire, orphan, scholar, and silent dreamer. A man who had wanted to play cricket, who had chosen career over joy, and who had died with regrets still warm in his chest.
But now, he was being pulled... back.
Or maybe forward.
Light.
Blinding, searing light.
A loud cry tore from his throat. His lungs filled with new air, cold and clean. He blinked, squinting through the blinding brightness above him. Everything felt strange — the size of his limbs, the weakness of his body, the dull ache of fresh birth.
He had been born again.
"Congratulations, sir!" a nurse's voice echoed through the private suite. "It's a boy!"
"Bring him to me," a deep voice commanded. Steady, calm. Authority wrapped in silk and steel.
He was lifted and handed over — strong arms held him. He looked up and saw the face of a man who looked like he could command entire empires with a glance. Tall, well-built, sharp-jawed with a composed expression and a fire quietly hidden in his eyes.
"I am your father," the man said, studying the baby's face with intensity. "Shivraj jayj. You are my son — a jay."
In the next moment, another voice — soft and tender — entered the air.
"Let me see him."
She moved with elegance, draped in silk, her glowing skin pale as ivory. Blue eyes shimmered in the light, warm and infinite. Her hands were delicate, her embrace gentle. She took the child from Shivraj, and for the first time in this new life, Vijay felt peace.
"My beautiful boy," she whispered. "I'm your mother. Rusheina."
She had a soft voice with a faint Russian aaccent. Born into one of Russia's wealthiest families, she had been a ballet prodigy turned genius.now she managed jayj entertainments a top entertainment company in india but she still showed her mother love to her baby
Rusheina was the picture of grace and warmth. She wasn't just beautiful — she was kind, nurturing, and deeply loving. Everything about her radiated comfort.
And yet, beneath that gentle exterior, she was resilient. She had walked through the cold courts of Russiana nobility and now lived under the golden ceilings of the jay family legacy.
Together, Shivraj and Rusheina jay were one of India's most iconic and powerful couples. And now, in their arms, was the boy who once was Vijay — reborn.
They named him Vijay j — a name that echoed both victory and legacy.
The estate he was born into was a marvel of wealth: marble corridors, manicured lawns stretching like royal gardens, golden chandeliers casting warm light on priceless tapestries. Every door had guards, every wall had stories, and every person bowed when a Raj passed by.
But behind the baby's quiet eyes, a different story stirred.
He remembered.
He remembered dying.
He remembered the orphanage.
The cold, the hunger, the longing.
He remembered the regret — of not chasing the dream that once made his heart beat faster than any number in a bank account.
Cricket.
That red ball. That sound of bat hitting leather. The cheers he never heard. The matches he never played.
Now, Vijay had been given everything he once lacked.
A loving mother.
A powerful father.
A name.
A future.
He was no longer an orphan.
He was the heir to the jayj family empire.
Days passed, and the household began to whisper about him.
"He doesn't cry like a normal baby," a maid said.
"His eyes… they look like he understands," said another.
"He watches everything."
Indeed, Vijay didn't behave like other infants. He was quiet, observant. His blue eyes — inherited from his mother — studied every face, every sound. He listened. He absorbed. He remembered.
Inside this tiny body lived a soul far older than anyone knew.
Shivraj rarely smiled, but he often stood silently at the doorway to Vijay's nursery, watching his son with a complex mix of awe and pride.
"He was born on 29th February," he told the press. "A rare day — under a rare star. This child will not walk the path of ordinary men."
Rushein said less in public, but in private, she whispered lullabies in Russian and kissed his forehead every night.
"My little moon," she said, "you will shine where no one else can."
And so, Vijay second life began.
Born into legacy.
Wrapped in wealth.
But driven by something deeper.
He did not yet understand why the universe had pulled him back. Why death had not been the end. But he felt the purpose stirring inside him.
This time, he wouldn't ignore his heart.
This time, he wouldn't bury his dream beneath ambition.
This time… he would be everything.
End of Chapter