He started the engine, the low, smooth rumble breaking the silence as they eased out of the parking bay and into the night.
Mumbai wrapped around them in neon and motion. Even at night, the city refused to slow down. Streetlights streaked past as Raghav drove, hands steady on the wheel, attention fixed ahead.
Ishani’s fingers drummed lightly against her purse. “May I ask you something personal?”
He glanced at her briefly, eyebrow lifting. “That depends.”
She hesitated, then turned slightly in her seat to face him. “What’s it like having a Bollywood star for a brother? The media attention alone must be exhausting.”
“Vikram enjoys the attention,” Raghav said, his tone deliberately neutral. “Always has.”
“He’s very talented,” Ishani offered. “I actually quite like him as an actor. His performance in ‘My girlfriend’s wedding’ was impressive.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel as they passed beneath a row of lights. He didn’t look at her, jaw set in a way she hadn’t seen before.
“You’re a fan?” he asked, tone clipped.
“I enjoy good cinema,” Ishani said lightly, watching him now. “Your brother happens to be good cinema.”
The silence stretched. The car picked up speed, not reckless, just enough to register.
“I don’t watch his films,” he said at last.
“That’s unfortunate.” She tilted her head, curious now. “His last one was quite something. He plays this charming businessman who—”
The car stopped abruptly. The sudden halt jolted her forward, the seatbelt tugging her back just as the building came into view.
They’d arrived.
Ishani looked from the windshield to him, taking in his clenched jaw, the tension he hadn’t bothered to hide. Understanding dawned, followed immediately by amusement.
“Well,” she said lightly, holding her bag, “this is me. Thank you for the ride, Boss.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, still tight.
Her hand paused on the door handle. She glanced back at him, eyes bright with mischief. “Maybe someday you should watch one of Vikram’s films. You might surprise yourself.”
Before he could respond, she stepped out and closed the door softly behind her.
Raghav watched her walk toward the gate, the security guard nodding as she passed. She didn’t look back.
He stayed where he was, engine running, until a light flicked on in a corner apartment on the fifth floor. Balcony. Curtains drawn halfway.
Only then did he exhale.
The gated complex was secure. Well-lit pathways. Attentive security. She was safe here.
He shifted the car into drive but didn’t move.
Her last words stayed with him. Not the sentence itself. Theeaseof it. The unguarded warmth in her voice when she’d said Vikram’s name, like it belonged comfortably on her tongue.
That was the part that sat wrong.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, the leather creaking softly under the pressure. He noticed the reaction only after it had already happened. He exhaled through his nose, irritation flaring.
Vikram had always been effortless. Likeable without trying. The kind of man people leaned toward instinctively.
Raghav pulled onto the road, jaw hardening.