Chapter 3: The Night Unravels

When I woke up again, it was already dark. The room was still, the only light from the street lamps outside painting stripes across my bedsheet. Evening had fallen.

Somewhere a dog barked. The scent of fried onions drifted in from the kitchen, mingling with the night air. The bungalow was quiet. Not even the television played in the background—usually Amma’s favorite serial would be blaring by now.

Arjun must have left. I was starving. My stomach growled, reminding me that I had skipped both lunch and tea.

I opened my door, still in a white cotton nightgown, barefoot, and went downstairs to look for food. I shivered as my feet touched the marble—cold and smooth, sending a jolt up my spine.

The marble floor was cold, and the chill made my mind a little clearer. I rubbed my arms, goosebumps rising. For a moment, I stood there, listening to the silence.

I stood by the kitchen counter, heating up a few slices of bread in the toaster. The toaster crackled and hissed, the smell of bread filling the kitchen. I searched for Amul butter, humming a line from an old Kishore Kumar song.

Suddenly, the study door opened. The creak of the door sounded too loud in the quiet house. I jumped, nearly dropping the butter knife.

Arjun, in a tailored suit, walked out. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine. Even at this hour, not a hair out of place.

Under the warm yellow tube light, his features looked even sharper, his figure tall and upright. His face was chiseled, jaw set, eyes like black marble. I remembered how girls in school used to whisper about him, calling him "Arjun Dev."

His looks were sculpted—like a god come down to judge mortals. But he was so cold. His presence was icy, his eyes colder still. Even the silver cufflinks on his sleeves gave off a cold glint.

I swallowed, suddenly self-conscious in my nightgown, my hair a tangled mess. Separated from me by the long living room, his gaze landed lightly on me.

For a moment, I wished I could melt into the shadows. I averted my gaze, clutching my bread plate. His thin lips pressed into a straight line. The pressure was suffocating.

The air felt thick, hard to breathe. My chest tightened, panic rising. Almost instantly—I came to my senses. Clutching my head, I ducked under the dining table, trying to hide—only making myself more conspicuous. My nightgown tangled at my ankles as I scrambled, nearly knocking over a chair. I felt ridiculous, but fear overruled everything.

My sister's light footsteps hurried down the stairs. She always seemed to float, never stumble. Even now, her anklets jingled softly as she rushed down. She ran straight into Arjun's arms, tugging at his sleeve.

Her voice, usually reserved, was honey-sweet. "Arrey, wait na! Are you leaving already? You haven't even seen my new portfolio. Can't you stay for dinner?"

My sister usually had a cool, aloof temperament. But now, she acted like a sweet, delicate girl, her voice soft and pleasant. Like a koel—with glossy hair and a melodious tune. Her laughter tinkled like wind chimes. Even I had to admit, she was beautiful.

Arjun didn't answer, only looked coldly at me, trembling under the table. I tried to make myself smaller, hoping the tablecloth would hide me completely.

My sister's smile faded. She bit her lip and said, "If you're busy, you can see them another day. Let's go, I'll walk you out." I watched her glance nervously at him, eyes darting to me and back.

Arjun didn't move. He stood perfectly still, the tension in the room thickening with every second. The pressure from him was so intense, it was as if he hadn't heard my sister at all. Even the air seemed to hum with his anger. I hugged my knees tighter.

My sister opened her mouth, but didn't dare say anything more. She looked at me, eyes narrow and sharp, as if blaming me for ruining everything.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice low and deep: "Fine, I'll stay for dinner." His words landed like stones, echoing in the silence. My sister's shoulders sagged with relief.

My father and sister both looked surprised. My father grinned, adjusting his glasses. "Arrey wah!" Arjun curled his lips slightly. It was not a smile, just a flicker of something cold.

"What are you afraid of? Hasn't she already forgotten?" He spoke to the room, but his eyes never left me. My breath hitched.

Arjun strode over to the dining table and crouched down. His suit trousers outlined his powerful legs. I shrank back further, feeling like a mouse cornered by a cat.

"Megha, do you still recognize me?" His voice was softer now, but there was something sharp beneath it.

I timidly lifted my eyes, then quickly looked down, not daring to meet his gaze. My hands shook as I clutched the edge of the tablecloth.

I nodded slowly. But suddenly, my fingers and toes prickled sharply, like being stabbed with needles. A stress reaction. My skin tingled, every nerve ending on fire. I bit my lip, trying not to cry out.

I cried out in pain. Squeezed my eyes shut. Desperately shook my head. "I don't recognize you. Please don't hit me. I don't recognize you." The words tumbled out, raw and terrified. I hugged my arms around myself, flinching away from his touch.