Chapter 9
A different kind of warmth engulfed me when I stepped through the massive double doors.
The air smelt like saffron and oud. It was thick with the scent of fresh bread that made it feel like home.
The Khan home.
"Aratrika!"
I was pulled into a tight embrace before I could react, soft fabric pressing against my cheek, familiar perfume wrapping around me like a cocoon.
The Khan family loved to call me by my middle name, Aratrika. They said it sounded Indian.
"Auntie," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mrs. Khan pulled back just enough to cup my face, her warm brown eyes scanning me, taking in every detail, every bruise, every shadow beneath my eyes.
The concern there was so raw, so real, it almost knocked the air from my lungs.
"Oh, my love…" Her fingers grazed my cheek in a delicate gesture, like she was afraid I would disappear. "What happened to you?"
I tried to smile. It barely held. "I'm fine, Auntie."
Her brows knit together, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"Fine?" She shook her head, tsking under her breath. "You're exhausted and hurting. Yet, you say you're fine?"
I looked at Asvika for help, but she was too busy smirking. Traitor.
Mrs. Khan exhaled, her hand resting against my cheek for a moment longer before she straightened. "You'll stay here, Aratrika."
I opened my mouth to argue, but she lifted a single, elegant finger, silencing me before I could even start.
"Until you can hold a candle to your former self, you are not leaving this house." Her voice was gentle, but firm. A declaration. A promise.
And for once, I didn't want to fight.
Because the truth was—I was still exhausted.
I lowered my gaze, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Okay."
She smiled, smoothing a hand over my hair like she used to do when I was younger. "Good girl."
I heard his quiet scoff before I saw him.
"She always listens to you," Aahil muttered from his spot near the stairs, hands still casually tucked into his pockets. "I wonder why that is."
I don't dignify him with a response, but Mrs. Khan gives him a sharp look before turning back to me. "Come, my love. You need to rest."
Before I could take a step, a warm, familiar hand rested against my lower back.
"Let me take her," Aahil said smoothly.
I stiffened. "I can walk, you know."
He lifted a brow, unconcerned. "I know."
Before I could protest further, Asvika clapped her hands. "Actually, I need to head back to our place and grab some things for Ara." She threw me a wink before turning to Aahil. "Looks like you're on nurse duty, big bro."
I glared at her. "You planned this."
"Obviously." She grinned, already backing towards the door. "Be back soon, Shayla."
The moment the doors closed behind her, I felt his gaze on me.
"Are you going to stand there all day, or are we going?"
I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met."
Aahil smirked. "You say that like it's news."
And with that, he led me up the grand staircase, his hand still steady on my back.
It should annoy me.
It really, really should.
So why didn’t it?
I should have known Aahil would make this difficult.
He didn’t just walk me to my room—no, that would be too simple. Too normal.
Instead, the second my steps slowed down, the moment my exhaustion weighed a little too heavy, he hooked an arm under my knees and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing.
I yelped, my fingers instinctively gripping the front of his shirt. "Put me down, you absolute menace!"
He didn’t.
Instead, he smirked, adjusting his grip effortlessly. "You're slow. I'm speeding things up."
"I swear to God, Aahil—"
"Shh." He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his deep brown eyes. "You'll alert the house."
I narrowed my eyes on him. "I hate you."
"Mm." His lips twitched. "That's new."
It was not, and he knew it.
And yet, he carried me down the hallway like it was second nature, like he has done this a thousand times before.
I wanted to fight it, to demand that he put me down, but the truth was, I didn’t have the energy.
So, I let him.
I let myself lean against him, just for a second until the exhaustion stopped pulling me under.
He reached my room in the Khan house, the one that will always be waiting for me, no matter how far I strayed.
Aahil nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, kicking it shut behind us.
I glanced around, taking in the familiar space.
The soft white curtains, the shelves lined with books, the warm golden light spilling across the plush rugs. It looked untouched, like I never left.
Like they were waiting for me to come home.
Aahil gently placed me on the bed. I expected him to leave. Instead, he crouched down in front of me, resting his arms on his knees as he studied me.
I frowned. "What?"
His gaze flickered across my face—my tired eyes, my bruised wrists, the weight I haven't been able to shake off since everything happened.
For once, he didn't have a sarcastic remark.
That was how I knew he was worried.
"Aahil," I sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "I'm fine."
His jaw tightened. "You don't look fine."
I rolled my eyes, closing them. "You're not my keeper."
A pause. A breath.
And then, softer, quieter, "Maybe I want to be."
My eyes snapped open, but he was already standing, already turning for the door.
"Get some sleep, Aratrika." His voice was steady again, teasing. "You look like a mess."
I grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at him.
He caught it with a smirk. And then he was gone.
He left me staring at the door, heart pounding in a way I really didn't want to analyse.
***?
I wasn't sure when I drifted off, but the gentle knock on my door stirred me awake. Before I could sit up properly, the door creaked open, and Asvika's voice filled the space.
"Room service," she teased, stepping in with a tray, followed closely by Mrs. Khan.
I rubbed my eyes, shifting up against the pillows. "What's this?"
Mrs. Khan gave me one of her gentle smiles, the kind that always made me feel like I belonged here. "Food, beta."
I blinked at the tray as Asvika set it in front of me. My stomach tightened from the sheer love in the meal.
A plate of warm biryani, its fragrant spices filling the air.
A bowl of lentil soup, the kind Mrs. Khan always made when someone was sick or feeling down.
A small dish of yogurt, cooling and familiar.
And to the side, a plate of freshly cut mango slices, their golden hue reminding me of the summer afternoons I spent in this house, stealing bites while Asvika scolded me for eating all the good pieces.
I swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed.
It wasn't just the food. It was the care stitched into every detail. They were feeding me, nourishing me, not just in body but in spirit.
"Eat," Mrs. Khan said softly, brushing a hand over my hair before sitting at the edge of the bed. "You'll feel better."
And so, I did.
I took a bite of the biryani, the familiar warmth settling deep in my chest. It had been too long since I had a meal like this. One made not out of duty but out of love.
Mrs. Khan watched me with soft eyes, then patted my hand. "You'll stay here until you're strong again, Aratrika. No arguments."
I had no arguments to give.
When the tray was mostly empty, and I was full in a way that wasn't just about food, Mrs. Khan pressed a kiss to my forehead before leaving. Asvika lingered, kicking her feet at the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone.
I leaned back against the pillows, letting my fingers slide across my own screen, aimlessly scrolling through social media.
And then—
A name. A face.
Sanaaya Eliraana Khalighi.
I grinned before I even realised it.
The first person who took me in after I left home. The one who never asked for explanations, never judged—just let me exist when I had nowhere else to go.
Her Instagram story was a chaotic mix of expensive resorts, a poolside view, and a plate of food she'd barely touched. And then, a slow pan across a golden desert at sunset.
I was still smiling when my phone buzzed. Video call.
I laughed, shaking my head. "Speak of the devil."
Swiping to accept, Sanaa's face filled my screen, framed by the warm glow of the desert sun. She had oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, a silk scarf wrapped over her hair in a way that only she could pull off.
"Versaceeee," she practically sang, her voice rich with laughter. "Look at you! My poor thing, what the hell happened to your face?"
I winced at the name. She was the only one who kept calling me by my official birth name even after countless pleas.
No one who truly knew me called me Bella. It was either Aratrika or Versace.
I rolled my eyes. "Wow, I missed you too."
She tsked, shaking her head dramatically. "Habibi, you need a vacation." She tilted her camera, revealing the sprawling desert behind her. "Come to Dubai. I'll spoil you rotten. You'll get better in style."
I scoffed. "You don't even live in Dubai."
"No, but do you think I'm leaving this paradise anytime soon? Exactly. So, come. I'll even make you breakfast in bed."
I snorted. "You can't even make toast properly."
I turned my head just as Asvika plopped onto the bed, resting her chin on my shoulder, peering into the screen.
"Can I come too?" she asked, grinning.
Sanaa gasped dramatically. "Vika! When has there ever been an occasion where we don't invite the life of the party?"
I shook my head, amused. "Tell that to Mrs. Khan."
Asvika groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Ugh. That is going to be the real mission."
I exhaled, already picturing it. Convincing Mrs. Khan wasn't going to be easy. But Sanaa's words lingered in my mind.
Maybe a trip was exactly what I needed.
The idea of Dubai sparked in my mind like a match waiting to ignite.
A getaway.
A breath of fresh air.
A chance to feel like myself again.
But first—Mrs. Khan.