"For now."
The way Malik said it made the answer clear: "for now" had limits.
William sat down in the chair across from him: no distance, no formality, just two people in a place neither of them could control. "How much?" William asked.
Malik stiffened. There it was: the question he knew was coming, the one he didn't want. "I don't know yet," he said.
"But it's more than you have."
Malik looked at him: sharp, defensive. "You don't know what I have."
William didn't flinch. "You're right," he said. "But I know how this works."
The silence that followed was heavier than anything else, because both of them knew what he meant.
Malik leaned back slightly, his jaw tightening. "I didn't call you," he said.
"I know."
"I didn't ask for anything."
"I know that, too."
"Then why are you here?"
William paused—not because he didn't have an answer, but because this one mattered. "Because you helped me," he said.
Malik shook his head. "That's not the same."
"No," William said quietly. "It's not."
Another silence, longer this time: the kind that forces something real to surface.
Malik looked down at his hands, then back up. "You're going to offer money again," he said.
William didn't deny it. "Yes."
Malik let out a breath that felt closer to frustration than relief. "I told you already," he said. "I don't—"
"This isn't payment." The words cut through his sentence: clean, direct.
Malik frowned. "What?"
"This isn't about the car," William said. "Not anymore."