After what felt like hours of driving, the cityscape of Amaravati finally unfolded before us. The capital of Andhra Pradesh welcomed us with its blend of urban bustle and historic charm. I glanced at the time —it was already 4 in the evening. The girls were chatting away, their voices mixing with the soft hum of the engine as I gradually slowed down the car.
Anu, noticing the change in speed, turned to me curiously. "Krishna, did we already reach the hotel?" Her tone was light, but I could sense the subtle weariness from the long drive.
Smiling, I shook my head. "No, not yet. We're actually heading to our NGO branch first."
Raji, seated in the back, furrowed her brows. "Why are we going there now?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
"It's nothing much," I said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "I figured since we're already in Amaravati, we could drop by and check if everything's running smoothly. Just a quick visit to make sure things are in order."
Before Raji could respond, Aamukta, who had been quiet, let out a soft sigh. "But I'm tired, Krishna," she said, her voice slightly whiny but endearing. "I really just want to freshen up."
Her words tugged at me. I knew how much these girls had been looking forward to unwinding. I glanced at the rearview mirror again, seeing the fatigue starting to settle on their faces despite their attempts to stay cheerful.
I slowed the car further, pulling over for a moment. Turning to face the girls, I said softly, "I understand you're all tired. I promise this won't take long. We'll just make sure everything's fine at the NGO, then head straight to the hotel, okay?"
Raji looked at me with a small frown but nodded reluctantly. "Okay, Krishna. Just a quick stop, right?"
I smiled reassuringly. "Yes, I promise. It'll be quick."
I smiled softly and glanced at Aamukta, her tired face still carrying that familiar hint of curiosity. "Don't worry, Cutie pie," I said playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "I don't have any other surprises planned. This stop will just take 30 minutes or so."
Aamukta sighed but nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Okay," she said, her voice soft.
Feeling a bit more relaxed, I turned to Annu, who had been quietly staring out of the window. "Annu, can you hand me that bag behind you?"
Annu blinked and glanced at the back seat. "Sure," she said, reaching for the bag. Once she found it, she passed it to me. "Here you go."
With one hand on the wheel, I carefully grabbed the bag. Aamukta, gave me a curious glance. "What's in the bag?" she asked, her tone a mix of interest and fatigue.
I chuckled and shot her a brief, reassuring smile. "It's just my laptop," I said, keeping my eyes on the road.
Aamukta's brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded as if understanding. Her gaze softened as she leaned back in her seat, satisfied with the answer.
After driving for a while, we finally pulled up in front of the NGO office building. The sight before us was both familiar and awe-inspiring. The large, elegant building stood tall, proudly labeled with our NGO's name, "LIFE," in soft golden letters that glistened under the evening sunlight.
The building itself was a beautiful blend of classical design, with towering columns that framed the entrance, giving it a sense of timelessness and grace. It wasn't just a building—it was a place that stood for hope, for change, and for the countless lives it had touched. Surrounding it was a sprawling, meticulously landscaped park. The green lawns seemed to stretch endlessly, dotted with trees whose branches swayed gently in the evening breeze. Vibrant flower beds lined the walking paths, their colors popping in the warm light of the setting sun.
Aamukta, who had been resting, sat up slowly, her eyes widening as she took in the serene beauty of the place. "It's… beautiful," she murmured, her voice soft with awe.
Anu leaned forward, her face pressed against the window. "Wow," she whispered, her tone filled with surprise. "I didn't expect it to look like this."
As I drove closer to the building, Ammu, who had been quietly observing the scenery outside, finally spoke up. "This NGO building... it's a lot like the one we have in Hyderabad," she said, her voice filled with a quiet curiosity.
I smiled, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "Not all the buildings are like this," I explained gently. "But the ones in big cities, like here and in Hyderabad, they follow a similar design. We connect them to the orphanage, so the facilities have to be more accommodating for the kids. It's not just an office—it's a place they can feel at home, where they can play, learn, and grow."
The girls nodded thoughtfully as they absorbed my words, their attention shifting back to the grand building as we approached. There was a certain calmness in the air now, the lively chatter from earlier fading into a comfortable silence as we neared our destination. The afternoon sun bathed the entire area in a soft, golden glow, and the shadows of the trees danced along the path leading to the entrance.
As I slowed the car to a stop in front of the building, I took a deep breath. The familiar sight of the entrance filled me with a sense of satisfaction. I parked the car, and as we stepped out, the warm breeze brushed against my face, carrying the fresh scent of the park's greenery.
That time I noticed children strolling around the park, their laughter carrying on the wind as they played, carefree and happy. A few were chasing each other, their small feet pattering against the paved paths, while others sat by the small reflective pond that glistened like a mirror under the evening sky.
The fresh scent of the grass and flowers filled the air, and the peaceful atmosphere seemed to wrap around us like a comforting embrace. Annu stretched her arms above her head, breathing in deeply. "This place really good," she said, her eyes scanning the serene landscape. "Like all the noise and stress just disappears when you're here."
Hearing this I smile softly but that time I noticed Mr. Sharma, the branch director, standing at the entrance, waiting for us with a welcoming smile on his face. He was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, exuding an air of calm authority. His hands were clasped in front of him, and The moment we stepped into the building, the branch director, Mr. Sharma, greeted us with a warm smile. His demeanor was polite and respectful, yet he carried a sense of calm authority that instantly put everyone at ease.
"Welcome, sir, and ladies," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Please, this way."
We all nodded in acknowledgment and began to follow him through the elegant hallways of the NGO building. The place had a certain grandeur, but it was understated—a balance between professional and welcoming, exactly what I had intended when we built it. The walls were adorned with photographs of the children we had helped over the years.
Mr. Sharma guided us toward the meeting room, which, judging by the direction we were walking, was located on the upper floor. The hallway we passed through had large windows that offered a stunning view of the surrounding park, the evening sunlight filtering through the trees and casting warm, golden hues on everything it touched.
When we reached the meeting room, Mr. Sharma politely asked if we would like something to drink. We all agreed on orange juice, and as we settled into the comfortable leather chairs, Mr.Sharma handed me the reports I had asked to see.
I knew these reports wouldn't take long to review. Seenu handled the administrative side of things with exceptional care, so I wasn't expecting any surprises. But still, I wanted to go through everything myself—it's just how I was. As I skimmed the pages, noting the various updates on projects, the budget allocations, and new initiatives, the girls quietly sipped their drinks, chatting softly among themselves.
It took me about fifteen minutes to finish. Everything was in perfect order, as expected. Seenu had done an impeccable job, and I felt a swell of pride for the team we had built over the years. With a satisfied sigh, I placed the reports down on the polished table in front of me and looked up at Mr. Sharma.
"Everything seems to be running smoothly," I said with a smile. "Thank you for the detailed report."
Mr. Sharma nodded, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he returned my smile. "Thank you, sir. It's all because of the strong foundation you've set."
I waved off the compliment, though I appreciated it. "It's a team effort. Now, could you show me around? I'd like to see how things are on the ground."
"Of course, sir," he replied, nodding enthusiastically. "I'd be happy to."
I stood up from the chair and glanced at the girls, who were still enjoying their drinks. "You all stay here and relax. I'll be back in a moment," I said with a smile.
They nodded, a chorus of "okay"s filling the room as they waved me off. I picked up my laptop bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and followed the branch director as he led me through the hallways of the building. The atmosphere was calm but purposeful, and every staff member we passed gave a respectful nod, which I returned with a smile. There was a sense of familiarity in this place, like a well-oiled machine that ran smoothly even in my absence. It felt good to know that things were being handled so efficiently, but I wanted to dig deeper, to see how things were at their core—starting with something as simple but vital as the kitchen.
As we approached the kitchen, I turned to the director. "Let's head to the kitchen area," I said, my tone casual but firm. "I want to check on the food quality and cleanliness."
The branch director, Mr. Sharma, nodded immediately, leading the way without hesitation. "Of course, sir. This way."
We walked down a narrow hallway that smelled faintly of spices and freshly cooked food. The scent reminded me of simpler times, growing up in a small town where meals were shared with family, and every meal seemed to hold a piece of the heart of whoever made it. It wasn't just about feeding these kids—it was about nourishing them, giving them something that felt like home in every bite.
When we entered the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of the staff going about their work with quiet efficiency. Large pots simmered on the stove, and several staff members were chopping vegetables, their hands moving quickly and skillfully. The kitchen was alive with the sounds of knives against cutting boards, the hum of industrial-sized refrigerators, and the occasional clatter of utensils.
I looked around carefully, scanning every corner. It was clean—spotlessly so. The counters were wiped down, the floors were swept, and the air had a fresh, sanitary smell that told me they took their cleaning seriously here. I walked over to one of the large prep tables, running my fingers along the surface to check for any residue. Nothing. The place was as pristine as I'd hoped.
One of the staff members, noticing my inspection, straightened up and gave me a curious glance. I smiled at him and said, "Everything looks good so far. How often do you clean the kitchen?"
The staff member stepped forward, wiping his hands on his apron. "Three times a day, sir. Once in the morning after the kids' breakfast, again in the afternoon after lunch prep, and then a thorough cleaning at night before we close."
I nodded, impressed. "That's great. What about deep cleaning?"
Another staff member, who had been chopping vegetables nearby, chimed in. "Twice a week, sir. We scrub everything down thoroughly—floor to ceiling. It takes a few hours, but we make sure everything is spotless."
I glanced around once more, taking in the sight of the well-maintained kitchen.
"Good," I said, giving them a nod of approval. "It shows. You're doing an excellent job."
I could see a flicker of pride in the staff members' eyes as they exchanged small smiles. It was the kind of acknowledgment that made their hard work feel worthwhile. Sometimes, it's easy to forget how much effort goes into the little things, but it's the little things that make the biggest difference.
Turning my attention to the food, I asked, "Mind if I try something?"
The staff looked surprised but quickly nodded. One of the cooks ladled out a small bowl of the soup they were preparing for the kids' dinner and handed it to me. I took a spoonful, tasting it carefully. The flavors were simple but warm and comforting—the kind of meal that made you feel taken care of.
"Not bad," I said with a smile, handing the bowl back. "It tastes like home."
The cook smiled widely at that, clearly pleased with the compliment. "Thank you, sir. We try to make sure the food is nutritious but also something the kids enjoy."
I gave them a nod. It wasn't easy, taking care of so many children, ensuring they were fed, educated, and nurtured in every way possible. But our staff, from the cooks to the cleaning crew to the tutors—they were all doing their part, and it showed.
As I turned to leave, I caught sight of a few of the kids outside the window, running across the yard, their laughter drifting faintly through the glass. These kids had a future—because of places like this, because of the people who worked tirelessly every day to give them one.
"We'll head to the classrooms next," Mr. Sharma said, interrupting my thoughts gently. "I can show you the new learning materials we've introduced."
I nodded, following him toward the next part of the tour. We walked down the hallway toward the classrooms. The sound of children's laughter echoed through the corridors, blending with the faint hum of ceiling fans and the shuffle of footsteps.
Mr. Sharma glanced over at me as we walked. "The classrooms are just ahead, sir," he said, gesturing toward a wide, sunlit hallway lined with doors.
I nodded, my mind already shifting to what I wanted to check next. "I'd like to see how the classes are running—maybe drop in on a session."
The branch director smiled, clearly pleased by my interest. "Absolutely, sir. The children are currently in their afternoon study time. It's a good opportunity to see how the teachers are engaging them."
We stepped into the first classroom, where a group of children sat in rows, their heads bent over notebooks. The teacher, a woman in her early thirties, was explaining a math problem on the chalkboard, her voice calm and patient. As soon as we entered, a few of the kids glanced up, their curiosity piqued by our arrival, but the teacher gently signaled for them to stay focused.
I stood quietly at the back, observing the way the teacher interacted with the students. She was good—engaging, clear, and encouraging, making sure that even the quieter students had a chance to answer. Every now and then, she would pause and ask if anyone had questions.
After a few minutes, I stepped forward, catching her attention. "Mind if I say a few words?" I asked.
The teacher nodded, smiling as she gestured for me to address the class. The kids sat up straighter, their eyes wide with interest as they waited for me to speak.
I crouched down to be at eye level with them, smiling as I said, "How's everyone doing today?"
A chorus of "Good!" echoed around the room, followed by a few giggles. One boy at the front raised his hand, unable to contain his excitement.
"Are you the boss here?" he asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
I chuckled softly. "Something like that," I said smilingly. "But really, I'm just here to see how well you all are doing. Looks like everyone is working hard."
The boy grinned, clearly proud of his efforts.
I stood up, addressing the class as a whole. "Keep up the good work, and remember, every question you ask is important. Don't be afraid to make mistakes—because that's how you learn."
The kids nodded enthusiastically, and I waved them goodbye before stepping out of the classroom, letting them get back to their studies. As I walked back into the hallway, I turned to Mr. Sharma.
"The teacher's doing a great job," I said, impressed by what I'd seen.
He smiled, pride evident in his expression. "We focus not just on education but on making sure the children feel encouraged and supported."
We continued our tour, stopping by other classrooms and the library, where a few kids were quietly reading or drawing. Everything seemed to be running smoothly.
"Let's head to the dormitories next," I said, shifting my laptop bag on my shoulder. "I want to check the living conditions."
Mr. Sharma led the way again, guiding me toward the dormitories where the children stayed. For many of these kids, this wasn't just an NGO—it was their home. And that made the condition of their living spaces just as important as their education and meals.
The dormitory was bright and airy, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light. The beds were neatly made, and each child had their own small space where they could keep their belongings. The walls were painted in soft pastel colors, giving the room a calming atmosphere.
As I walked through, I stopped by one of the beds, running my hand along the neatly folded blanket. "How often are the dormitories cleaned?" I asked, turning to Mr. Sharma.
"Every day, sir," he replied. "We have a cleaning staff that comes in the morning and evening to make sure everything is tidy. The children also have a chore schedule to help keep their own areas clean."
I nodded, satisfied with the response. "And what about bedding? How often is it changed?"
"Once a week, and more often if necessary," he said. "We try to make sure the kids are as comfortable as possible."
It was a small detail, but one that mattered. These children had already faced enough hardship in their lives. The least we could do was make sure they had a clean, safe place to rest their heads at night.
As we stepped out of the dormitories, the warm sun greeted us, casting a golden hue over the garden. The air smelled fresh, a mix of blossoming flowers and the crisp greenery of the well-maintained lawns. The sound of birds chirping and the distant laughter of kids playing reached us as we strolled down the pathway.
Walking alongside the Mr. Sharma, I decided to bring up a topic close to my heart. "How's the staff and teachers' weekly mental health check-ups going?" I asked, my tone calm but firm, knowing how crucial this aspect was for the smooth functioning of the NGO.
Mr. Sharma glanced at me, his face serious but confident. "Everything is going well, sir. We've had no significant issues, and the weekly sessions are helping a lot in identifying stress early on. The staff seems to be in good spirits, and we've noticed that the check-ups have really improved their focus and ability to handle the pressures of their work."
Hearing this, I nodded approvingly. Mental health was something I was particular about, especially in an environment like this, where both the children and the elderly depended on the emotional stability of the staff. "That's good to hear. It's something I won't compromise on," I said, my gaze sweeping across the garden. "Working with kids and the elderly, especially those who've faced trauma or abandonment, is emotionally demanding. They need to feel safe, and that starts with a staff that's emotionally and mentally capable."
Mr. Sharma smiled slightly, as if appreciating my focus on such matters. "Your policy on this has made a real difference, sir. Many of the staff have said they feel more supported now, knowing they can talk to professionals if they're struggling."
I continued, my voice thoughtful. "I started this rule for a reason. We're not just managing facilities here; we're managing lives. These children—" I gestured toward a group of kids playing near the garden's pond, their laughter filling the air, "—they've been through enough. It's our duty to ensure they have a safe and nurturing environment."
We reached a bench by the edge of the garden, the branch director gesturing for me to sit, but I remained standing, glancing at the peaceful scene around us. "Our orphanages are more than just shelters. They're homes. Safety is the first priority. The staff and teachers need to be at their best mentally, otherwise, how can we ensure the children or the elderly are safe?"
He nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. "You're right, sir. The staff has become much more proactive. When they feel supported, they perform better, and that trickles down to how they care for the children and seniors."
I ran a hand through my hair, adjusting the strap of my laptop bag. "The children can stay until they turn sixteen, and after that, we help them find their path. We make sure they get into the universities of their choice, and we cover their education fees and living expenses. Once they turn eighteen, they're free to either start their careers or stay with us as interns, working with one of my companies, learning the ropes."
This wasn't just about philanthropy or charity—it was about ensuring that every child under our care had a future, one they could look forward to, regardless of their past.
Mr. Sharma smiled. "We've already placed a few of our older kids in universities this year. They're doing really well, and some of them have even come back during their holidays to volunteer here."
I smiled at that. "That's exactly what I want. I want them to feel like they can always come back here, not just as kids who needed help, but as adults who can give back."
The garden around us seemed to echo with the warmth and purpose that we'd built into this place. It was moments like these that reminded me of why I'd started this in the first place. This NGO wasn't just a project—it was a promise I had made to myself, to create a space where people could thrive, no matter their past, no matter their struggles.
"Make sure the deep cleaning of the kitchen and dorms continues regularly," I said, slipping back into my practical mindset. "And schedule an inspection of the mental health records next month. I want to make sure we're doing everything by the book."
Mr. Sharma nodded. "Understood, sir. I'll take care of it." As we were about to re-enter the building, my gaze fell upon an intriguing figure seated on a bench, alone, while her eyes followed the children playing in the garden. It was as if the scene before her was a small, perfect piece of tranquility amidst the bustling day. I felt a smile tug at my lips, and I murmured to myself, "I think today is lucky for me."
(A/N: I'm not sure if you guys are reading my novel or not, so please leave a comment on the chapter to let me know. I'm grateful to the readers who comment and send power stones, but I'd love to hear from everyone! Another important thing—soon, the Godfather arc will start, and I need your input on Sathyapriya's character. Should I include her or not? If yes, I already have some ideas on how to do it. Please don't ignore this, as it's important for the storyline. Share your thoughts in the comments!)
The woman on the bench was none other than Sathyapriy, Brahma's sister. I could also see her security detail, positioned a discreet distance away, maintaining a vigilant yet unobtrusive presence.
Mr. Sharma, noticed my interest. "Miss Sathyapriya is one of the major donors who contribute substantial funds to this branch," he explained. "She often comes here to see the children and observe the impact of her donations."
I nodded. "It's good to know. You go ahead first; I'll come after meeting her."
As Mr. Sharma departed, I made my way toward Sathyapriya, who was absorbed in the serene scene before her. She hadn't noticed me approaching, so I decided to break the silence with a warm, "It's peaceful here, isn't it?"
Startled, she turned to face me, her eyes widening in surprise. Her security guards, stationed at a respectful distance, subtly shifted their gaze toward us, but I chose to focus solely on Sathyapriya. Her expression gradually softened into a gentle smile as she responded, "Yes, it really does feel peaceful here."
I took a moment to glance around the garden, appreciating the tranquility that enveloped the space. "By the way," I continued, "I want to express my gratitude for your support. Your contributions have made a significant difference."
Sathyapriya's smile grew warmer. "It's not that great, really. If anything, I should be thanking you, Mr. Krishna. I've been following your work closely, and I truly admire the impact you're making. Your efforts have been a tremendous help to our state and its people."
Hearing her words, I let out a soft, amused laugh and took a seat beside her on the bench. With a smile, I replied, "Just Krishna is fine. What I'm doing isn't for any state; it's for the people, for what I believe is right."
Sathyapriya's smile widened, and she responded, "That's true. But I'm surprised to see you here today. I didn't expect it."
I leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression on my face. "Neither did I expect to meet you. It seems like destiny has a way of surprising us. Maybe our meeting today is part of some plan or a connection from the past."
Sathyapriya's eyes twinkled with amusement as she turned to me. "Krishna, are you trying to flirt with me? If so, just so you know, I'm already married."
Hearing her words, I let a small smile touch my lips. Looking into her eyes, I said with a gentle tone, "That's why I mentioned how strangely destiny works. We never truly know what the future holds. Just like our unexpected meeting today, there are many things we can't predict. Sometimes, destiny presents us with the wrong things at the right time and the right things at the wrong time."
Sathyapriya tilted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "It's intriguing to hear, but I'm not sure I fully understand what you're saying."
I smiled warmly, my gaze softening. "There are many things I say that might seem unclear now, but people often understand them when the right time comes. You'll see it too, when your own moments of clarity arrive."
She studied me for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You have a way with words, Krishna. Perhaps there's more to your philosophy than meets the eye."
I chuckled softly. "Maybe so. Sometimes, the deeper meaning reveals itself when we least expect it."
Pausing for a moment, I continued with a warm smile, "I think I have something for you."
Sathyapriya's curiosity was evident as she raised an eyebrow and asked, "What is it?"
I reached into my bag and carefully pulled out a Rubik's cube. Holding it out to her, I said, "Here."
She took the Rubik's cube from my hand, her eyes reflecting both curiosity and amusement. "A Rubik's cube?"
I nodded, still smiling. "Yes, a Rubik's cube. But don't be fooled into thinking it's just an ordinary puzzle. When you find yourself surrounded by confusion and struggling to find answers to your questions, solve this cube."
Sathyapriya's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Once again, I didn't quite understand what you were saying," she admitted, her tone tinged with both curiosity and amusement.
I let out a soft chuckle, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie in our exchange. Rising from the bench, I gave her a reassuring smile. "I guess it's one of those moments where words might not fully capture the meaning. But perhaps that's the charm of it."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her with a friendly gesture. "This is my number. If you ever need assistance or just someone to talk to, don't hesitate to call me. Until then, take care. If destiny has other plans, I'm sure we'll meet again."
Sathyapriya took the card and the Rubik's cube, her gaze lingering on them as if trying to decipher their hidden meanings. The serene ambiance of the garden seemed to envelop her in contemplation. I gave her one last smile before turning away.
The soft murmur of children's laughter and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene atmosphere as I approached the girls, who were waiting by the entrance.
As I walked back toward the girls, I noticed them all giving me odd looks, like they were waiting for me to explain something. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, but their collective stare was hard to ignore. I stopped in front of them and, with a light chuckle, asked, "What happened? Why are you all looking at me like this?"
Raji, always the first to speak her mind, raised her eyebrow and said, "Mr. Sharma told us who that girl was, the one you were talking with."
I raised my brow in return, pretending not to know where this was going. "So?"
Ammu crossed her arms and gave me a stern look. "Seriously, Krishna? She's already married."
I blinked, acting innocent, though I knew exactly what they were implying. "I know that. So, what are you trying to say?"
Anu, ever the protective one, sighed and said, "Don't play dumb, Krishna. Just... don't destroy someone's married life."
Her words, though playful, had a weight to them, and I could see the concern behind her teasing. I paused for a moment, dropping my expression into mock sadness. "You really think I would do something like that?" I asked, my voice a mix of hurt and disbelief. "Don't you believe in me?"
The girls all exchanged glances, their teasing momentarily faltering as they saw my overacted sadness.
Hearing what I said, they all shook their heads in unison, almost as if rehearsed, and said together, "No."
I gasped dramatically, placing my hand over my heart, feigning deep emotional pain. "How can you say that? It's... it's broken my heart." I held my chest as if it were genuinely hurting. "It's shattered into a million pieces, Cutie pie," I said, turning to Aamukta with an exaggerated look of distress. "I need to heal... can you please help me." I moved closer to her, wrapping my arms around her in a light hug, pretending to be in unbearable pain. "One kiss," I whispered dramatically. "Just one kiss, and I'll be whole again."
Aamukta smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement. She clearly saw through my little performance but humored me anyway. "Krishna," she said softly, her voice filled with fondness. "Stop acting in front of us. We need to get going—we have to reach the hotel."
Her gentle yet teasing tone brought a grin to my face, breaking my fake act. "As you wish, Cutie pie," I said, releasing her from the hug but not before giving her a playful wink.
The girls laughed at my antics as we gathered our things. I caught Mr. Sharma's eye as we were about to leave and waved goodbye. "Thanks for the tour and everything, Mr. Sharma. We'll see you again soon."
"Safe travels, sir," he replied with a respectful nod. "And thank you again for your visit."
With that, we piled into the car, and I started the engine, the familiar hum calming me as we drove away.
(A/N: If you'd like to support me, please use this UPI: omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar". If you do, please let me know your webnovel name so I can recognize you.)
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