His love, His possession

2 (II)

Part 2

Laughter.

Applause.

Meera’s eyes snapped open.

The queen… was getting up.

The goons were grinning. People around them were clapping.

What the

A man in a baseball cap ran forward, holding a megaphone. “Cut! Perfect shot! That was brilliant!”

Meera’s head spun.

Movie.

This was a movie.

She turned wildly, her breath still uneven. Cameras. Boom mics. Light reflectors.

A crowd of onlookers had gathered behind barriers, chattering excitedly. Someone pushed a crisp ₹1500 note into her hand without even looking at her.

“Extras money ? ,” a man muttered, already walking away.

Extras?

Meera was still frozen in place. Her hands were trembling.

She had just witnessed a murder.

Except… she hadn’t.

The queen wasn’t a queen. She was an actress. The goons weren’t goons. They were stuntmen.

The grand palace? A film set.

The little girl clung to her arm, still terrified.

“Maa…” she whispered. “Are we… are we safe?”

Meera didn’t know.

She looked down at the money in her hand, then at the crowd, then at the cameras flashing in the distance.

Mumbai. The city of dreams.

And she had just stepped right into its biggest illusion.

The lights dimmed as the shot wrapped up. Crew members scattered, checking the footage, adjusting the cameras, preparing for the next scene.

Meera stood frozen, still holding the crisp ₹1500 note. The little girl clung to her side, her tiny body trembling.

And then

The queen walked toward her.

No, not a queen. An actress.

Up close, she was even more breathtaking. Tall, graceful, with skin like ivory and kohl-lined eyes that held a world of mystery. Her heavy jewelry gleamed under the fading lights. The deep red of her lehenga matched the sindoor in her parted hair, making her look almost royal.

She stopped in front of Meera and smiled a warm, genuine smile.

“I scared you, didn’t I?” she said softly.

Meera could only stare.

The actress chuckled and pulled off her elaborate nose ring. “People always say these action scenes feel too real. Sorry if it was too much.”

Meera’s throat was dry. She tried to speak, but no words came out.

The actress extended a delicate hand. “I’m Ishita Rajvansh.”

Meera hesitated before placing her trembling hand in hers. “M…Meera.”

Ishita’s eyes flickered to the little girl hiding behind Meera’s dupatta. She crouched down, her bangles jingling softly. “And what’s your name, sweetheart?”

The little girl didn’t respond. She just buried her face in Meera’s side.

“She’s scared,” Meera whispered, finally finding her voice.

Ishita straightened, her expression softening. “I get it. Mumbai can be overwhelming.” She paused, then asked gently, “Are you new here?”

Meera nodded.

Ishita studied her really studied her. Her eyes roamed over Meera’s torn dupatta, her dusty sandals, her swollen belly. Her instinct sharpened.

“You’re running from someone, aren’t you?”

Meera stiffened.

Ishita exhaled, stepping closer. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But I can see it in your eyes, Meera. The fear. The exhaustion.”

Meera lowered her gaze, gripping the little girl’s hand tighter.

Ishita’s voice turned softer. “Whoever you’re running from… they can’t find you here.”

Meera’s eyes darted up. “How do you know?”

Ishita smiled faintly. “Because Mumbai isn’t just a city of dreams. It’s a city of hiding places.”

A lump formed in Meera’s throat. She looked around at the flashing cameras, the crowd, the bustling chaos of the set. She had no idea where she was or what to do next.

Ishita took a step back and folded her arms. “You don’t trust me yet. That’s fine. But if you need a place to stay… I can help.”

Meera hesitated. Trusting people had never ended well for her.

But right now… she had no choice.

She looked down at the little girl, at the way she clung to her, exhausted and afraid.

And then, finally, she whispered

“Help me.”

Ishita’s smile returned, softer this time.

“Come with me, Meera. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Ishita placed a reassuring hand on Meera’s arm. “Just wait here, okay? I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Meera hesitated. “Where are you going?”

Ishita smiled. “To talk to someone. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing behind the film crew.

Meera exhaled. The little girl squeezed her hand, her tiny fingers cold and clammy.

“It’s okay,” Meera whispered. “We’re safe.”

But she spoke too soon.

A sudden chill ran down her spine, a feeling she had learned to recognize. Someone was watching her.

She turned slightly, just enough to see them.

Three men.

Standing near the entrance of the set.

The goons.

Her breath caught in her throat. How did they find her so fast? Did they follow her all the way from that wretched palace?

One of them nudged the other, pointing straight at her.

And then they started walking toward her.

Her heart lurched. No. No. No.

“Run,” she whispered to the little girl. “Run!”

She grabbed her hand and darted through the crowd. People were everywhere actors, crew members, vendors shouting about chai and samosas.

She weaved between them, her belly heavy, her breaths ragged. The little girl struggled to keep up, but Meera couldn’t stop.

Behind her, she heard one of the goons shout

“There she is !”

They were getting closer.

Her eyes darted around. She needed a way out.

She spotted a narrow alley between two makeup vans. Without thinking, she yanked the little girl inside.

They ran.

Footsteps pounded behind them.

A market lay ahead, its streets crowded with vendors and customers. The smell of frying pakoras mixed with the stench of the Mumbai gutters.

Meera pushed forward, her chest burning. The goons wouldn’t stop until they had her.

She saw an opening. A truck parked by the roadside, its engine running.

The driver wasn’t inside.

She looked back the goons were too close.

She had no choice.

She lifted the little girl onto the truck bed, then climbed in after her.

The truck jolted forward.

Meera grabbed onto the side railing as it rumbled over a pothole. She barely managed to pull the little girl into her lap before the vehicle sped off, leaving the market and the goons far behind.

Her body shook. She had escaped… for now.

The little girl clung to her, burying her face in Meera’s dupatta.

Meera shut her eyes, trying to breathe.

She had no idea where this truck was going.

But one thing was certain

Mumbai wasn’t going to let her hide that easily.

The truck rumbled down the highway for what felt like hours. Meera kept her arms wrapped tightly around the little girl, feeling every bump and jolt. She didn’t know where they were going, but she couldn’t risk jumping out just yet.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the truck slowed. The driver pulled over near a roadside dhaba, a small, open-air restaurant bustling with travelers and truckers.

Meera’s stomach clenched with hunger. She hadn’t eaten since… she couldn’t even remember.

She glanced at the little girl. Her face was pale, her tiny hands clutching her stomach. She must be starving.

This was their chance.

As soon as the driver stepped away from the truck, Meera slid down carefully, her body aching. She lifted the little girl and set her down on the ground.

She scanned the area no sign of the goons.

Taking a deep breath, she led the child to the dhaba.

The air was thick with the smell of sizzling parathas, fresh chai, and tandoori rotis. Men sat on charpais, talking loudly, sipping tea, eating plates full of steaming daal and rice.

Meera hesitated. She had no money.

But then, she remembered the ₹1500 note. The one they had given her on the film set.

She clutched it tightly and stepped forward.

A waiter passed by carrying a tray full of food. Meera inhaled deeply. She needed to eat. She was pregnant, and the child with her hadn’t spoken a word since they escaped.

She approached a small, empty table in the corner. The waiter came over, eyeing her dusty clothes and exhausted face.

She cleared her throat. “One plate of roti and sabzi. And… a glass of milk.”

The waiter nodded and walked away.

She sat down, pulling the little girl close. “We’ll eat soon,” she whispered.

The girl just nodded, her big, frightened eyes darting around.

A few minutes later, the waiter returned with their food. Hot, fresh, and smelling like heaven.

Meera tore off a piece of roti, dipping it into the sabzi. She lifted it to the girl’s mouth. “Eat, sweetheart.”

The girl hesitated, then slowly opened her mouth.

Meera smiled softly and took a bite herself. For the first time in days, warmth filled her stomach.

She was just about to take another bite when

A shadow fell over the table.

Her blood ran cold.

A rough hand grabbed her wrist.

She gasped, jerking back, the piece of roti falling to the ground.

She knew before she even looked up.

The goons.

They had found her.

The little girl whimpered, gripping Meera’s dupatta tightly.

One of the men smirked. “You thought you could run forever?”

Meera’s heart pounded. She pushed the little girl behind her. “Leave us alone!”

The goon laughed. “Come on, begum sahiba. Your husband is waiting.”

He yanked her up by the arm.

She stumbled, her belly heavy, her breath sharp with panic.

The little girl screamed.

People at the open restaurant that is also known as dhaba turned to look. Some muttered, some stared, but no one interfered.

Meera thrashed, trying to break free. “Let me go!”

The goon tightened his grip. “Enough drama. You’re coming home.”

The second man grabbed the little girl. She kicked and screamed, but he was too strong.

Terror surged through Meera. No. No. Not like this.

She struggled, but she was outnumbered, overpowered.

And then

A voice cut through the air.

“Let her go.”

Everyone froze.

Meera’s heart pounded. She turned her head toward the voice

And saw a stranger.

A man.

Standing at the entrance of the dhaba, staring directly at the goons.

His eyes burned with something dangerous.

The dhaba fell silent. The only sound was the sizzling of food on the open stove and the low hum of the radio playing an old Bollywood song.

Meera gasped for breath, her arm aching from the goon’s tight grip. The little girl whimpered, struggling in the second goon’s grasp.

And then the stranger stepped forward.

Tall. Broad shoulders. A thick beard covering his sharp jawline. His dark eyes locked onto the goons like a predator eyeing its prey. There was something dangerous about him.

“I said, let her go.” His voice was calm, too calm.

The goon holding Meera scoffed. “Stay out of this, brother. This is family business.”

The stranger didn’t move. “She doesn’t look like she wants to go with you.”

The second goon, the one holding the girl, smirked. “And who are you? Her savior?”

A slow, humorless smile touched the stranger’s lips. “If you don’t leave her alone in the next three seconds, you’ll find out exactly who I am.”

Something in his tone made the goons pause. A flicker of hesitation.

Meera’s breath hitched. Could this man really help her?

But before she could say a word, the first goon’s face twisted in anger. “Enough of this.”

He yanked Meera forward, making her stumble.

The little girl screamed.

And then

It happened so fast

The stranger moved like lightning.

A fist crashed into the goon’s face. A sickening crunch filled the air as blood sprayed from his nose.

The goon staggered back, clutching his face. “You bas ”

Another punch.

This time to the ribs. The man groaned, falling to his knees.

The second goon let go of the little girl in shock. She ran straight to Meera, clinging to her side.

The stranger turned to the remaining goon, who now looked terrified. “Still want to take them?”

The man took one step back. Then another.

Then, without another word, he ran.

The first goon, still on his knees, clutched his broken nose and spat blood. He glared at Meera and the stranger. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. We’ll be back.”

The stranger crouched down, gripping the man’s collar. His voice was low, deadly. “Next time you come, make sure you bring a coffin.”

The goon’s face went pale.

Then, with a final glare, he scrambled to his feet and ran after his partner.

Silence.

Meera’s chest heaved. She felt the little girl trembling against her.

The stranger turned to her. “Are you okay?”

She stared at him, still in shock. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Who was this man?

And why did she feel that for the first time in forever she could finally breathe?