Chapter Ten The Commercial Flight #2
“Everything is fine,” Anshira replied, remaining near the doorway, maintaining the polite, impenetrable distance she always kept. “I just came to inform you of my schedule for next week. I will be traveling to Pune.”
The words hung in the quiet study.
Rovanth went still. A cold, quiet panic instantly gripped his chest, wrapping around his ribs and squeezing the air from his lungs.
It wasn't a rational fear. He knew she wasn't running away.
Pune was exactly where her parents lived; it was exactly where she said she would be.
She was a woman of her word. But the mere idea of her leaving this house, the very thought of her being hundreds of miles away from him, completely outside of his orbit, sent a shockwave of terror through his system.
For the past month, his entire existence had been anchored by the quiet rhythm of her presence in the estate.
He had survived the crushing weight of his guilt by simply watching her, by ensuring she was treated with absolute reverence by the staff, by hovering at the edges of her life, desperate for a chance to prove he was no longer the monster she remembered.
If she left, even temporarily, he would be alone with the silence of the massive house, alone with the ghosts of the cruelties he had inflicted upon her.
“Pune,” Rovanth repeated, forcing his voice to remain steady, though his heart was hammering frantically. He stepped away from the window, moving slightly closer to her. “For how long?”
“Just a few days,” Anshira said simply, misinterpreting the tension in his jaw as logistical concern. “I need to see my parents. It has been over a year since I saw them in person.”
The reminder of why it had been a year—because he had kept her trapped in a hostile, humiliating purgatory—struck him like a physical blow. The guilt flared hot and bright in his throat.
“Of course,” Rovanth murmured, swallowing hard, desperate to accommodate her, to offer her the world if she asked for it.
“You should go. You should spend as much time with them as you need.
I will have Vikram arrange the corporate jet for you.
It can be ready by tomorrow morning, or whenever you prefer to depart.
I'll ensure a full security detail accompanies you to their apartment—”
“No,” Anshira brushed the gesture aside immediately, raising a hand to stop his frantic planning. “Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'll just book a standard commercial flight.”
Rovanth frowned, his protective instincts warring with his desperate need to respect her boundaries.
“Anshira, the jet is sitting on the tarmac.
It is at your disposal. Commercial airports are chaotic, and you shouldn't have to deal with the crowds or the delays. Please, let me make this comfortable for you.”
“I am perfectly happy flying commercial, Rovanth,” Anshira insisted, her tone gentle but completely immovable.
She looked at him with that calm, detached rationale that always managed to disarm him.
“I don't need any special treatment. My parents live in a modest neighborhood. A KDG motorcade and a private security detail showing up at their building will only cause a spectacle and frighten the neighbors. I just want a quiet trip.”
Rovanth looked at her, recognizing the absolute finality in her voice. He had billions of dollars at his disposal, a fleet of private aircraft, and unparalleled global influence, yet none of it held any currency with the woman standing in front of him. She didn't want his wealth. She never had.
He offered a slow, defeated nod. “Alright. If you are certain. I will have the estate manager handle the commercial booking for you.”
“Thank you,” Anshira said. She didn't turn to leave. She took a small breath, deciding to handle the rest of her administrative uncoupling while she had his attention. “There is one other matter I wanted to raise with you before I leave.”
Rovanth braced himself, his dark eyes watching her carefully. “Anything.”
“My role at the foundation,” Anshira began, her voice steady and practical. “I intend to step back from managing the philanthropic operations.”
The panic that had just begun to subside in Rovanth's chest flared back to life with terrifying violence.
“Step back?” Rovanth asked, his voice tightening. “Why?”
“I took on the role over the past year because it was expected of me as your wife,” Anshira explained, laying out the logic with surgical precision.
“It gave me something to do, and I cared deeply about the rural education initiatives.
But now that our marriage is drawing to a close, it doesn't make sense for me to continue functioning as the public face of the Kalresh-Dhen charity. I feel it would be much more appropriate for your mother, your sister, or perhaps even Dadi to reclaim that responsibility.”
Rovanth stared at her, the words now that our marriage is drawing to a close echoing in his mind, threatening to tear him apart. She was packing up her life. She was systematically severing the few remaining threads that tied her to him, preparing for her exit.
“Anshira, no,” Rovanth tried to protest, his voice laced with a quiet, desperate urgency.
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them until he could smell the faint, clean scent of her jasmine soap.
“You cannot step down. You have handled the role brilliantly. The board is thrilled with your oversight. The rural education metrics have improved by forty percent under your direct management. The family does not want to reclaim it. It is yours.”
Anshira looked up at him, unmoved by his praise. She saw it as nothing more than a CEO trying to retain a competent employee.
“It is not mine, Rovanth,” Anshira remained firm, her dark eyes reflecting none of his desperation.
“It is the Kalresh-Dhen Foundation. And soon, I will no longer be a Kalresh-Dhen. It is better to handle the transition smoothly now, rather than abruptly later. I am happy to help oversee the handover until the family is ready to take it back over, but I will not be managing the new quarterly grants.”
Faced with her calm, unyielding resolve, Rovanth found himself cornered.
He had no real argument to offer. He couldn't appeal to her ambition, because she had none regarding corporate power.
He couldn't appeal to her ego, because she operated purely on empathy.
And he couldn't tell her the truth—that the thought of her removing her name from the foundation's letterhead felt like a physical abandonment—because she would simply look at him with that same polite, devastating indifference.
He realized, with a sinking heart, that fighting her on this right now would only push her further away. He needed to retreat. He needed to buy time.
“There is no need to rush any decisions tonight,” Rovanth said softly, forcing his voice to soften, intentionally pulling back the intense, commanding energy he usually projected. He looked down at her, his dark eyes filled with an uncharacteristic, profound gentleness.
“You are going to Pune,” he continued, keeping his tone light, encouraging.
“You are going to see your parents. Enjoy your time with them, Anshira. Rest. Do not worry about the foundation, or the board, or the transition. We can revisit this conversation once you return. There is no immediate deadline.”
Anshira paused, slightly puzzled by his response.
She studied his face. The aggressive, corporate negotiator was absent. The unyielding, cold heir who had once ordered her out of his sight was a ghost. In his place was a man looking at her with such quiet, careful tenderness that she genuinely didn't know how to process it.