In the quiet suburbs of Delhi, the old haveli-style house stood as a relic of joint family traditions. Ram Prasad, a stern 68-year-old retired army man, lived with his son Vikram and granddaughter Vaachi. Vaachi had just turned 20, a college student with a slender, curvaceous figure, long black hair, and innocent doe-like eyes that reminded Ram of his late wife. Vikram, a busy 42-year-old businessman, often traveled for work, leaving the two alone for days.

Ram had always been strict, but lately, his gaze on Vaachi lingered. He watched her hips sway as she walked, the way her tight salwar kameez clung to her breasts. "Yeh meri hai," he would mutter to himself. (She is mine.) His desire had grown into obsession. He manipulated situations cleverly, never rushing.