Rohan flicked his gaze toward the girl in the passenger seat, just for a second, before turning back to the road. She looked so small, folded into herself like she wanted to disappear.
He hadn't meant to take her. He hadn't even planned on involving her. Hell, he knew she wasn't lying about not knowing the bastard who sold her out. He could tell by the way her eyes widened, confused, scared, like betrayal was something she was only just learning to recognize.
But there was something about her—something untouched, unspoiled. Innocent.
Earlier, when he told her to get in the car, she'd hesitated. Most women never did. They jumped at the chance. But she stood there frozen, like her body couldn't decide whether to trust him or run. That hesitation had said more about her than words ever could.
His jaw tightened at the memory of the blood on the back of her skirt. Real blood. Not the kind he was used to seeing spill from men who owed him debts. This was different. This was a girl—young, soft, fragile. And clearly having the worst day of her life.
That's why she was here now, sitting beside him. Not because he was soft. Not because he wanted her. But because she deserved better. And maybe, just maybe, because she reminded him of his sister.
Rohan glanced at her again. She was staring at the dashboard as if it might judge her.
It wasn't.
He was.
Not in a bad way. More like… what kind of girl are you, really?
"You're not going to say anything?" His voice broke the quiet after a while.
She didn't answer. Didn't even look at him. Just curled further into herself, as if shrinking might make her invisible.
He exhaled and turned back to the road. The asphalt stretched on, endless, the silence pressing louder than any words. She sat stiff, arms wrapped around his jacket, eyes locked on the glowing dashboard. She hadn't once looked at him, not once. She was a ghost beside him.
He cleared his throat. "Are you hungry? Should I get you something to eat?"
That finally made her turn. Her eyes flicked to his face, uncertain, like she couldn't quite believe what she'd just heard.
A long beat passed before she whispered, "Yes… I'm hungry."
Something in his chest loosened. He nodded, eyes back on the road. "Where do you buy your clothes?" he asked after a while, voice even, as if this were an ordinary drive with an ordinary girl.
He didn't look at her, but he could feel her attention shift toward him.
"Downtown," she murmured after a pause. "Cheap place."
He nodded again, leaned back into the seat, steering lazily with one hand. Up ahead, bright lights broke the stretch of night, glowing against the dark sky. "What do you want to eat?"
Her answer came quick, almost too quick. "Ice-cream."
That startled him enough to chuckle. He turned to her, one brow raised. "Ice-cream?"
Her cheeks went pink instantly. She lowered her gaze, tucking her face away like she was embarrassed by her own answer.
And damn it, he smiled. Really smiled. Forcing himself to look back at the road, he shook his head lightly. "Alright. You can get that…" He paused, smirk tugging at his mouth. "…but I'm talking about real food. What do you like?"
She stayed quiet, still hiding. He didn't let her.
"Pizza? KFC? Anything you want, sweetheart."
That made her peek at him, eyes shy but curious, almost like she was testing him.
Finally, she muttered, "Pizza is fine."
"Pizza it is." He nodded, then considered for a moment, lips pressing together. "Why not both? We'll get pizza first, then swing by KFC." He thought aloud, planning without even meaning to. "After that, I'll get you a change of clothes… and then, your ice-cream."
Her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. She nodded, almost cautiously. Then, softer, she added, "And pickles."
That made his head whip toward her. "What?"
"Pickles." This time her voice was clearer, steadier, though still soft. "They go well with ice-cream."
He blinked. Once. Twice.
And then laughter just broke out of him—uncontrolled, sharp, rolling into something genuine. It startled him almost as much as her answer had. She just watched him, like she wasn't sure whether to be offended or join him.
When his laughter finally ebbed, he shook his head, still grinning. "Alright. And pickles."
The car had gone quiet again. But this time, it didn't feel as heavy. Rohan noticed she'd loosened up a little, shoulders not so tight, breath not so shallow. Every now and then, she glanced at him. Quick, shy looks she probably thought he wouldn't catch.
He caught them. Every single one.
He didn't ask why.
When her voice finally broke the silence, it was small, uncertain. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
The question hit him harder than he expected. Rohan turned his head, stunned, his eyes locking on her for a brief second before flicking back to the road.
Why?
Good damn question.
He didn't answer immediately. Mostly because he didn't know the answer himself. Why was he being easy with her? Why wasn't he cold, distant, like he was with everyone else?
He exhaled slowly through his nose, shrugged with one hand still steady on the wheel. "I really don't know," he said at last, softer than he meant to.
She didn't reply. Just looked away, eyes drifting out the window as if the streets rolling past could give her the answers he couldn't.
But her question stuck with him, circling in his head. He wasn't used to being asked things that dug beneath the surface. He didn't know her. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not yet.
The glow of a pizza shop broke the line of neon ahead. He pulled into the lot, killed the engine, and reached for his phone.
"What do you want with the pizza?" he asked, scrolling for a number. "I'm calling my friend."
She turned back toward him, thoughtful, like she was measuring the weight of her answer. "Coke," she said finally.
"Alright." He nodded, dialing.
The call was brief. "Yeah, man, medium pizza. Coke and water. I'm outside in the lot."
Minutes later, a kid in a pizza uniform came jogging over with a box balanced on one hand. Rohan took it through the window.
"How much?" he asked.
"Two hundred."
Rohan pulled out a wad of notes, handed them over without blinking. "Keep the change."
The kid grinned wide. "Thanks, boss." He disappeared back into the shop.
When Rohan started to pull away, he caught her staring at him, her surprise written plain across her face. He didn't comment.
The car rolled past a donut stall and then a fruit cart. She leaned toward the window, her eyes brightening in a way he hadn't seen before, as if she might jump out if he stopped long enough. Then she patted at her pockets, searching.
"What is it?" he asked, cutting his eyes toward her. "Donuts? Fruit?"
Her head whipped around, pleading eyes wide. "Both." A soft smile tugged at her lips.
The corners of his mouth twitched. He liked that smile.
"But I left my wallet at the bar—"
"That's alright," he cut in, his tone firm but easy. "It's covered."
Her smile grew, and before she could thank him, he twisted the wheel hard. The tires screeched against the asphalt as he pulled a sharp turn, doubling back toward the stalls like some street racer.
Her gasp filled the car. She clutched the seat, wide-eyed. "What the—"
He only smirked.
In moments, he eased the car beside the donut stand and rolled down the window. "Yo, boss. My girlfriend's craving your donuts. How much?"
She froze, blinking at him like he'd just spoken a foreign language. Girlfriend?
"Fifteen hundred, sir," the vendor replied.
Rohan turned to her, calm. "How many do you want?"
"O…one," she stammered.
"One it is." He smiled faintly, handed over the cash, and passed the package to her.
She held it carefully, like it was something precious, while he moved the car a little further to the fruit cart.
"Go on," he said. "Order."
She hesitated, glancing between him and the vendor. "Um… can I just get an orange?"
He gave her a long look. "Just that?"
Her lips curved, sly this time. "Nope." She straightened in her seat, eyes sparking. "Give me one of every fruit."
He blinked. "Everything?"
She nodded, clearly enjoying herself now. "You gave that guy all the change. I should at least make use of what you're about to 'dash' this woman."
For a second, he just stared at her. Then a low laugh escaped, unplanned. He shook his head, still amused, and turned back to the vendor. "How much?"
"Two thousand," the woman said.
Without a flicker of hesitation, he peeled off the bills and handed them over. "Keep the change."
The moment he started the car again, he felt her gaze on him. When he glanced over, she was smirking.
"Seems like you love giving out money," she said, teasing.
He shrugged, steering one-handed, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "What'd you think? I'm trying to impress you."
Her laugh rang out, loud and unrestrained this time. Sweet. Pure. It filled the car, echoing inside him in a way he hadn't expected.
It was the first time she'd laughed since this whole mess began.
And damn if it felt like music.
"If you really wanted to impress me," she teased between laughs, "you'd just give me the money."
He smiled, shaking his head. Something inside him eased, something he hadn't even realized was wound tight. And it hit him then.
He liked having her here.