Conclusion

I stood over the chair while he cried. Rain ticked against the glass. Prachi stayed on the bed, one knee bent, Rajesh’s palm resting heavy on her thigh. No one rushed to cover anything.

“Wallet,” I said.

His hands shook so badly the leather almost slipped. He held it out. I took every card, every note. I lifted the bank card so he could see it.

“This is mine. Next month’s salary too. Rajesh moves the access tonight. You don’t get a password. You don’t get a say.”

“Please,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “I’ll give it to you. Just… don’t do this in front of her.”

Prachi turned her head. Her eyes were clear. “I’m already watching.”

He flinched like she’d hit him. Fresh tears ran into the ones already drying on his jaw.

I looked at Rajesh. “When you want him leashed, leash him. He’s my servant now. He carries what I tell him to carry. He waits where I tell him to wait. He doesn’t speak to either of us unless we ask.”

Rajesh’s thumb stroked once along Prachi’s skin. “Understood.”

My brother made a small, animal sound. “I said you were fat. One time. I was angry. I didn’t mean—”

“You meant it enough to say it,” I answered. “This is what it costs.”

Prachi sat up. The sheet pooled at her waist. She looked straight at him. “I’m not yours. I haven’t been since I walked in here. I’m theirs. And tomorrow I’m Ravi’s if they want. He already knows the room.”

His breath hitched hard. “Prachi, don’t. Please. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear. Just don’t let them—”

“I want them,” she said. Quiet. Final. “I asked.”

The words landed. His shoulders folded. He pressed both hands over his face and sobbed into them, raw and open, no longer trying to stay quiet.

Rajesh stood. He didn’t bother with a shirt. He crossed to the door and opened it. Rain blew in across the carpet, cold and sharp.

“Out.”

My brother lowered his hands. His eyes were swollen, red, destroyed. He looked at Prachi one last time. She didn’t look away.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, smaller.

“I know,” I told him. “Go.”

He walked. At the threshold the rain hit him. He stopped, soaked in seconds, and turned back like he might still beg. Rajesh shut the door. The lock clicked.

Silence, except for the storm and his fading footsteps.

Prachi exhaled. She lay back and opened her legs without being asked. Rajesh stepped between them and pushed in, slow. She moaned, soft and real, and reached for my hand.

“No more videos,” she said.

“No more,” I agreed.

Outside he was already gone, crying in the rain with empty pockets. Inside we kept moving, unhurried, while the door stayed locked.