CANVAS OF COURAGE [Ongoing]

?32?

—The office rooftop, their silhouettes too close.

—A quiet corner café, fingers nearly touching.

—The event hall, where Siddharth's eyes never left her.

—Sanvi’s home—shot through the glass.

—And the final image… last night.
Citi top. Her head on Siddharth’s shoulder. His arm around her waist. The city lights a blur behind them.

Vikram’s lips curled into a twisted smile. It wasn’t amusement—it was an obsession fed by fire. A predator’s grin. Mad and sharp and full of ghosts.

His fingers traced the photo like he was caressing a cherished relic. Then, softly—almost lovingly—he chuckled, a deep, hollow sound.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, voice edged with venom. “Just like My Love. She was also beautiful like that but she was stubborn.”

Then he looked out the window, city lights dancing in his cold, ancient eyes.

"So it begins..."
He flicked his finger against the photo of Siddharth.

“Let’s see how far the boy can run when the devil knows his name.”

Vikram stared at the photo of Sanvi in Siddharth’s arms, his thumb smearing a faint streak of blood across her smile.

His laughter was low—more like a growl echoing from deep inside his chest.

“So... he found me a daughter-in-law,” he murmured, tapping the image.
“And didn’t even introduce me to her.”
He leaned back, resting his head, voice dripping with mock offense.
“Now that’s just… disrespectful, don’t you think, Victor?”

Victor shifted in the front seat, eyes forward.

“Very disrespectful, sir.”

His voice was calm, practiced. The tone of a man who’d cleaned blood off boots for decades.

Vikram’s smile sharpened. “In my day, sons feared their fathers more than they feared death. But this boy?”

He snapped his fingers.

“He dances in cafés with my legacy like it’s a goddamn lullaby.”

Victor hesitated, then glanced at Vikram through the rearview mirror.
“Shall I arrange… a formal introduction?”

Vikram chuckled, a dry rasp like sandpaper.“No.” He held the photo up to the light, eyes narrowing at Sanvi’s face.

“Let her keep thinking he’s her hero.”. He turned to Victor slowly.  “It’s far more satisfying when a queen realizes her king was born from a monster.”

A silence fell—thick, oppressive.

Then Vikram added softly, almost a whisper:

“But we’ll meet soon. As a family should.”
His eyes gleamed like dying stars.
“And when she looks into my eyes, Victor… she’ll know what hell her lover crawled out of.”

Victor gave a short nod, voice quiet.
“Understood, sir. Shall I begin the sweep?”

Vikram folded the photos with eerie care, slid them into his coat, and looked out at the dark streets ahead.

“Start with her house. No damage. Just shadows. I want her to feel me… before she ever sees me.”

The engine roared to life, and the car melted into the night—like a storm slowly rolling toward its prey.