A Blank Cheque

Dharna opened her eyes with difficulty, the blazing light of the sun piercing through her eyelids. She raised a hand to shield herself, wincing as a dull headache throbbed behind her temples. Her body ached as though a truck had run her over. Beneath her, a soft mattress cradled her weight. Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to recall what had happened before she lost consciousness.

She sat up slowly, scanning the unfamiliar room. Where am I? The memory returned in fragments—the screech of tyres, the blinding headlights, the sharp pain, and then… a pair of long legs in black leather shoes stopping near her.

Her gaze dropped to her clothes. They were intact. Relief washed over her, though unease lingered. Who brought me here? Why not a hospital?

Just as she swung her legs off the bed, the door creaked open. A man stepped inside, halting mid-step when he saw her awake. His eyes locked on hers, intense and unyielding.

He wore a grey T-shirt and black sweatpants, his hair dishevelled, sweat glistening on his face and arms. A water bottle dangled from his hand. He looked like he had just finished exercising, yet his presence was commanding, almost magnetic.

Dharna’s breath caught. I’ve never seen someone so… handsome.

“You’re awake?” His voice was deep, steady.

She nodded, then asked, “What happened to me? Where am I?”

“You’re at my boss’s house,” he replied.

Her brows knitted. “Your boss? Who is it?”

“Last night, my boss accidentally hit you with his car. You fell unconscious, so he brought you here.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “Why… why here? Why not a hospital?” she murmured, almost to herself.

The man didn’t answer that. Instead, he extended his hand. “By the way, my name is Rohan. What’s yours?”

“Dharna.” She shook his hand hesitantly, then reached for her purse on the side table. “I’d like to go now.”

Rohan nodded, slipping a hand into his pocket. He pulled out a cheque and handed it to her.

“This is compensation from my boss. It’s a blank cheque. You can add whatever amount you want.”

Dharna stared at it, wide-eyed. “Whatever amount I want?”

He nodded.

Her voice trembled. “How much… how much can I fill?”

Rohan’s expression hardened. He sighed, his tone sharp. “One million, two million, fifty million—whatever you want. Just like every other girl I’ve met, I suppose.” His eyes flicked over her face, disappointment etched in his features. I thought she might be different. But appearances deceive.

But then he heard her murmur, almost to herself: “I had twenty thousand dollars in savings… I need fifty thousand.” She began calculating under her breath, her fingers twitching nervously.

After a pause, she looked up, her eyes shining with desperate hope. “Can I… can I fill forty thousand dollars? I need only this much. Don’t worry, I’ll pay it back when I have enough. I swear!” Her voice was breathless, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Forty thousand… enough to save my sister. She thought of the hospital bills, the loans, the unanswered pleas. This cheque was salvation.

Rohan blinked, stunned. “You only need forty thousand? And you’ll pay it back?” His voice carried disbelief, as though his ears were tricking him.

“Yes,” Dharna said firmly, clutching the cheque. “I don’t want more than I need. I don’t want to be bought. I just want my sister to live.”

Silence stretched between them. Rohan studied her face, searching for greed, for deceit, for the hunger he had seen in countless others. But all he saw was desperation—raw, unpolished, painfully sincere.

“You’re strange,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his muscles, his dishevelled hair falling into his eyes. “Strange and reckless. Do you even know who my boss is? Do you understand what kind of man you’re dealing with?”

Dharna shook her head, her voice soft but unwavering. “No. But I know what kind of sister I have. And I know I’ll do anything for her.”

Rohan’s jaw tightened. She’s either the most naïve girl I’ve ever met… or the bravest. His chest tightened with a strange, unfamiliar feeling—confusion mixed with reluctant respect.

Dharna clutched the cheque to her chest, her mind already racing ahead to her sister’s hospital bed, to the hope this paper now carried. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Rohan tilted his head, his gaze piercing, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he stepped closer.

“What are you up to, little wolf?”