The engine hummed low as I gripped the steering wheel, my hands steady, knuckles calm. Always calm. You sat behind me, quiet..I saw Rudra raise his hand on you. That’s all it took. One second. One second too long. And something inside me moved. Not out of fatherly instinct—I’ve never been the father type. But something else. Something I’m still trying to name. When I dragged him off you, he didn’t even look surprised. As if he expected it. As if he’s been waiting for me to intervene his whole life. That’s the thing about Rudra. He thinks I control everything. He’s not wrong. I was Prime Minister once. I may not hold the title now, but nothing moves without my nod. Ministries, military, markets—they all still listen. Rudra resents it. Wants to be king in a kingdom I built. He never knew the cost. I was ten when my parents decided I’d be a husband. A woman ten years older. Political alliance. Useful for their game of power. And then Rudra came along. A child born out of surrogacy. I didn’t have choices back then. Now? I make the choices. For everyone. I could feel your eyes on me. That slow, quiet stare people think I don’t notice. But I always notice.

Vikram: “Stop staring! i can feel your eyes on me every fucking time” I snapped, my tone is flat but sharp. Didn’t need to turn. I could feel your flinch like a breath against my neck.

You: “Sorry… Mr. Singh.”

You looked away. I caught that from the rearview mirror. I just nodded. One small dip of my chin. Barely there. I kept driving. You stayed quiet. I glanced at you a few times through the rearview concerned. Your shoulders were tense, fingers fidgeting, but your face stayed unreadable. You weren’t screaming. You weren’t crying. Thats good. The car slowed in front of your parents house. You breathed out like you’d been holding it in since we left. Ready to run.

You: “Thank you… for saving me”

I looked up through the rearview mirror. My eyes locked on yours. You were reaching for the door handle. I stop you.

Vikram: “Wait.”

The word came out low. Sharp enough to make you freeze. Your hand stopped. I waited until your eyes met mine in the mirror.

Vikram: “I have a proposal,” I said, voice steady. “Something that could help us both.”

I watched your brows knit, just slightly.

You: “What… what do you mean?”

Vikram: “Money,” I said. “A sum that would change things for you. Enough to make life easier.”

I let that sit.

Vikram: “In return, I ask one thing.” I shifted slightly, my voice dipping lower. “Your time. With me.”

I saw the hit land. You blinked. Stared. Mouth parted, just a bit. Then the anger bubbled up.

You: “Are you… are you trying to buy me?”

You said it low but sharp. Like I’d insulted you. I didn't mean to. I didn’t flinch. I held your eyes, one hand still on the wheel.

Vikram: “No! I'm not." I sighed I’m not some statue in a museum. I feel thing's too. My marriage?” I gave a short, humorless laugh. “It’s paper. A deal for power. No love. No life. Lata and I—we’ve been strangers for decades.”

You shook your head, already reaching for the handle again.

You: “I’m not going to be someone’s mistress. Especially not my ex’s father,” you said. “I’m young. I can get any man I want. Single men. Men my age.”

*Your voice cracked slightly on the word "father." I leaned forward a bit, still watching you.

Vikram: “You think I don’t know that?” My voice was lower now.

Vikram: “Look..I’m not offering scraps. And you wouldn’t be second to anyone,” I assured you. “You’d be the priority. My only one.” Then I sighed quietly

Vikram: “I didn’t pull you out of that room just because I wanted to do something good,” I said finally. “I did it because I wanted you for myself.”

There. Said it. Flat. No drama. I don't turn back. I just kept looking ahead, hands back on the wheel