A Forbidden Love Between the Protector and the Innocent

3

The sound of the jeep's engine roared to life, cutting through the quiet morning air as Vikram sat behind the wheel, his large hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He glanced toward the house, his sharp grey eyes narrowing slightly as he spotted Meera stepping onto the grand veranda, her petite figure radiating innocence. She was flanked by her mother Anjali and Ravi, who dutifully held a large umbrella over Meera's head to shield her from the sun.

Meera was dressed in a soft pink and purple half-saree, her anklets jingling with every graceful step she took. Her skin glowed, fair and delicate, but she was careful to avoid the harsh rays of the sun that would tan her easily. Her gold jhumkas swayed gently with her movements, and her bouncy braid fell over her shoulder, tied neatly with fragrant jasmine flowers. She smiled brightly, her lips curving upward in a way that made Vikram clench his jaw involuntarily. She was too beautiful for her own good, and he cursed himself for how much he noticed.

Anjali and Srinivas followed behind her, chatting quietly as they made their way to the car. Meera, however, stopped by the jeep, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Ravi, still holding the umbrella, adjusted it slightly to keep her covered while she peeked inside the vehicle.

"Mamma," she called softly, looking up at Vikram, who was sitting stiffly in the driver's seat.

He looked at her coldly, his expression unreadable. "What?" he asked, his voice deep and clipped.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I want to ride in the jeep. Please?" Her voice was sweet, almost childlike, as she clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture.

Before Vikram could respond, Anjali's sharp voice rang out. "Meera, no! Get in the car with us. The jeep is not for you to ride in."

Meera's face fell slightly, her pout forming almost instantly. She turned to her father, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Appa," she said softly, drawing out the word in a way that made Srinivas sigh. He could never resist his daughter's wishes.

"Anjali, let her go," Srinivas said, his tone calm and soothing. He placed a hand on his wife's arm, his gentle demeanor quickly defusing her irritation. "She'll be fine with Vikram. He'll take care of her."

Anjali frowned but relented under her husband's reassuring gaze. "Fine, but only this once," she said, her voice laced with exasperation.

Meera's face lit up instantly, her pout vanishing as she smiled brightly. "Thank you, Appa!" she chirped, hurrying toward the jeep. Ravi held the umbrella over her as she climbed into the passenger seat, her bangles clinking as she adjusted her saree.

Vikram shot her a sideways glance, his expression stern. "Sit properly," he said gruffly, gesturing for her to fix her saree so it wouldn't get caught in the door.

She nodded obediently, her small hands smoothing the fabric as she settled into the seat. "Mamma," she said softly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"What now?" he asked, his tone laced with impatience, though a small part of him secretly enjoyed how she always sought his attention.

"Can we go to the mango farm? I want to eat the green mangoes," she said, her voice full of excitement.

"No," Vikram replied flatly, keeping his eyes on the road ahead as he shifted the jeep into gear.

Her face fell again, her lower lip jutting out in an adorable pout. She turned to Ravi, who was now standing beside the jeep, and said, "Ravi Anna, he won't take me to the mango farm!"

Ravi laughed, his loud, jovial voice echoing through the yard. "Dei macha, stop making her cry, da," he teased, clapping Vikram on the shoulder.

Vikram scowled at him but didn't respond. He enjoyed watching Meera pout more than he cared to admit. There was something endearing about how easily her mood shifted, how her emotions played out so openly on her face.