Isha's hands were trembling. Vikram's message kept blinking on her phone screen.
`Terrace. 5 minutes. Please.`
From the hall below, Rahul's voice echoed. He was on a call with someone, his tone sharp and venomous. "I want his name wiped off this company by morning. I don't care how you do it. That bastard Vikram should not exist in my building tomorrow."
Isha adjusted her dupatta and walked toward the door. Devyanshi caught her wrist.
"Didi, don't go," Devyanshi whispered, her eyes full of fear. "Bhai is furious. If he finds out you met Vikram sir after what happened today..."
"If I don't go today, I might never get the chance again," Isha said softly. For the first time in three years, her voice did not shake because of Rahul. It shook because of something else. Hope.
The terrace was dark. Only the city lights of Mumbai flickered in the distance. Vikram stood by the railing, his back to her. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his hair disheveled. He looked like a man who had just walked out of a war.
"Are you okay?" Isha asked. Her voice was barely a whisper.
Vikram turned. His eyes were not filled with anger anymore. They were filled with pain. And beneath that pain, there was something Isha had searched for in Rahul's eyes since the day she met him and never found. Concern. Care.
"He fired me, Isha." Vikram let out a short, bitter laugh. "He told me if I even talk to you again, he will destroy my family. My career. Everything."
Isha's heart sank. "Vikram, I never wanted this. Because of me..."
"Stop." Vikram took a step closer. Now he was only an arm's length away from her. "Since the day you walked into that office I have watched you break. Every insult, every taunt, every time he called you 'the 500 dollar girl' in front of the whole office... I stayed silent. Because I had to be professional."
He looked at her. The moonlight fell on her face, and for a second Vikram forgot how to breathe.
"But I cannot be professional anymore, Isha. Not when it comes to you. Because I..." He paused. He inhaled like the word was costing him everything. "Because I think I am in love with you."
Isha's world tilted.
In all the time I've known him, Rahul had never said the word love. He had said price. He had said ownership. He had said deal. But never love.
And here was Vikram, a man who had nothing to offer her except his salary and his heart, saying the one word that could undo her entire existence.
"Vikram, he will destroy you," tears filled Isha's eyes. "He has money. He has power. You have..."
"Let him." Vikram took her hand in his. His touch was warm. It was steady. It was not demanding. "Isha, I am not rich. I cannot give you a mansion. I cannot buy you diamonds. But I can give you respect. I can give you peace. I can give you love without a price tag."
From below, the main door slammed open. Rahul's roar cut through the night. "ISHA! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"
Vikram did not flinch. He cupped Isha's face in his hands. His thumb gently wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek.
"Once, just once, listen to your heart, Isha. Stop being scared. Tell me... what do you want? A cage made of 500 dollars... or air that is free?"
Isha heard Rahul's scream again. Then she felt Vikram's heartbeat under her palm. She looked into his eyes and saw no condition. No contract. No ownership. Only a question.
And she answered it.
She placed her hand over his. "I... I want you, Vikram."
For one second there was silence. The kind of silence that comes before a storm. Then a slow smile broke on Vikram's face. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.
"Then get ready to fight the world with me, Mrs. Future Vikram," he whispered.
Downstairs, Rahul was screaming her name like a man possessed.
Up on the terrace, Isha closed her eyes and breathed for the first time without fear. She was in the arms of a man who wanted her, not her price.
The war had just begun.
Two Hours Later
Rahul threw the crystal glass against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces, much like his control.
"She went to him," he said to the empty room. His voice was low, dangerous. "After everything I gave her. The house. The name. The money. She chose him. A middle class nobody who I can buy and sell fifty times before breakfast."
Devyanshi stood in the doorway, shaking. "Bhai, please calm down. Didi was just..."
"Don't you say her name!" Rahul turned, and Devyanshi flinched. His eyes were red, but there were no tears. Only rage. "Since the day I found her. I fed her. I clothed her. I kept her safe. And she repays me by falling for my employee? My charity case?"
He picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Double the background check on Vikram. I want his parents, his college records, his bank statements. If he has ever taken a loan, if he has ever been late on rent, I want it on my desk in one hour."
He cut the call and looked at Devyanshi.
"You. Go to her room. Pack her bags. She is not part of the deal anymore. She is a guest who overstayed."
"Bhai!" Devyanshi's voice broke. "You cannot do this. You love her."
Rahul laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Love? I bought her, Devyanshi. For 500 dollars. You don't love a product. You own it. And when a product is defective, you throw it out."
He walked past her, but stopped at the door. His back was still to her when he said, "And call my lawyers. I want an annulment. Now."
Midnight
Isha could not sleep. She sat by the window in the guest room. Her guest room. Rahul had not let her enter their bedroom after she came down from the terrace.
Her phone buzzed.
Vikram: `Are you okay? He did not hurt you, did he?`
Isha typed back, her fingers still unsteady.
`I am okay. He did not touch me. He just... he looked at me like I was a stranger.`
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Vikram: `I am outside your gate. I could not stay home knowing you were there alone with him. I will not come in. I just... I needed to be close.`
Isha's breath hitched. She pulled the curtain slightly. Through the gap, she saw him. Vikram was leaning against his old car, looking up at her window. He was not a billionaire with a fleet of security. He was just a man. A man who left his house at midnight because he was worried about her.
Another message.
Vikram: `You don't have to reply. I just want you to know you are not alone. Not anymore. Whatever he decides, whatever happens tomorrow... you have me. Okay?`
Isha did not reply with words. She turned her phone's flashlight on and off twice. A signal.
From below, Vikram saw it. He smiled, put his hand on his heart, and nodded. He stayed there until the sun came up.
Next Morning, Malhotra Mansion
The staff was whispering. The news had spread. The madam had chosen Vikram sir over Mr. Malhotra .
Isha walked down the stairs with one small bag. She was not wearing designer clothes today. She wore a simple blue kurti, the one she had on the day Rahul first saw her three years ago.
Rahul was waiting in the hall. He was dressed in a perfect suit, as if he had a board meeting. But his eyes gave him away. They were empty.
"Leaving?" His voice had no emotion.
Isha stopped two steps above him. "Did you think I would stay after last night?"
"I thought you would remember your place."
"I did," Isha said quietly. "That is why I am leaving. My place was never in a house where I had a price tag. My place is with someone who thinks I am priceless."
Something flickered in Rahul's eyes. Pain? Regret? It was gone before Isha could name it.
"Vikram cannot give you this life," Rahul said, gesturing to the mansion. "He lives in a 2BHK flat, Isha. He takes the local train. Is that the life you want? After living like a queen?"
Isha walked down the stairs with one small bag. She was not wearing designer clothes today. She wore a simple blue kurti, the one she had on the day Rahul first bought her at the auction.
She took one more step. Now she was past him.
"Don't come back when he leaves you," Rahul said to her back. His voice finally cracked. "Because he will. Men like him cannot handle women like you once the excitement is gone."
Isha stopped. She did not turn. "Maybe you are right. Maybe he will leave. But at least I will have been loved for a while. Can you say the same, Rahul? Has anyone ever loved you, or just your money?"
She walked out of the door without waiting for an answer.
Rahul did not stop her. He stood there, surrounded by his mansion, his money, his power. And for the first time in his life, Rahul Malhotra felt poor.
Vikram's Apartment, One Hour Later
It was small. The paint was fading. The sofa had a tear in the corner. But it was clean. And it smelled like books and coffee and something else. Safety.
"It's not much," Vikram said nervously, taking her bag. "But it is yours now. As long as you want."
Isha looked around. There were no chandeliers. No marble floors. No staff.
There was a photo frame on the wall. Vikram with his parents. An old couple, smiling, simple.
There was a bookshelf full of law books and novels. Some of them were the same ones Isha loved.
There was a small balcony with two chairs and a dead plant.
"It's perfect," Isha whispered.
Vikram exhaled. Like he had been holding his breath since last night. "Are you hungry? I can make Maggi. I am not a billionaire chef, but my Maggi is famous in my building."
Isha laughed. A real laugh. It had been years. "I would love some Maggi."
While Vikram was in the tiny kitchen, Isha's phone rang. Unknown number.
She picked up. "Hello?"
"Isha Sharma?" The voice was formal. Cold. "This is Mr. Mehta, legal advisor for Malhotra Industries. We are terminating your personal services contract with Mr. Rahul Malhotra effective immediately. You have 24 hours to vacate the premises and sign the documents. You will receive no compensation as per Clause 7."
Isha closed her eyes. Clause 7. The 'if you leave me, you leave with nothing' clause.
"I understand," she said.
"Good. Don't contact Mr. Malhotra again." Click.
Vikram came out with two plates of Maggi. He saw her face. "What happened?"
Isha put the phone down. She looked at the Maggi. Steam was rising from it. It cost 14 rupees.
"Rahul is filing for annulment," she said. "I get nothing. Not a rupee. I am back to being the girl with 500 dollars to her name."
Vikram was quiet for a second. Then he put the plates on the small table. He sat down on the floor in front of her. He took her hands.
"Good," he said.
Isha blinked. "Good?"
"Now you are free, Isha. No contract. No clauses. No price." He picked up a fork, wrapped some Maggi on it, and held it to her. "So. Will Ms. Isha, who is worth more than all the money in the world, do me the honor of having 14 rupee Maggi with me on my torn sofa?"
Isha looked at him. At his hopeful eyes. At the Maggi. At the dead plant on the balcony that she could water back to life.
She opened her mouth and took the bite.
It was the best thing she had tasted since the day she lost her freedom.
"Yes," she said, her mouth full. "Ms. Isha would love to."
Outside, Mumbai was loud and chaotic. Inside this small flat, it was quiet.
Isha and Vikram were together. Not because of a deal. Not because of money.
But because for the first time, Isha had chosen. And she had chosen love.
But Rahul Malhotra was not a man who lost.
And a man like him never let go of what he thought he owned.
Author Note:-
Isha chose Vikram. Rahul chose war.
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