10. Chapter 10
A ria
The tube ride home blurred past in a daze. Two line changes later, the rhythm of rails still hummed beneath her shoes. The velvet box was carefully tucked into her bag, the envelope of pay pressed flat against her chest under her coat.
She stopped by a corner shop, and the Pakistani couple at the counter greeted her with warm smiles. She picked up milk, bread, onions, tomatoes, lamb, and a tub of yoghurt. Tave kosi, she decided. Lule's favourite.
Her bike was still chained behind the café where she'd left it that morning. But with the lamb, vegetables, and milk she'd picked up, there was no way she could balance everything on the ride home. She made a quick decision to collect it tomorrow on her way in. It was safer that way.
She headed towards the tube station, catching the familiar Piccadilly Line, then transferring at Oxford Circus.
The journey was crowded but quiet. From her final stop, she boarded the 134 bus for the last leg, swaying gently as the city lights blinked past the fogged-up windows.
She held the bag close, her fingers absently brushing the edge of the leather jewellery box through the canvas.
She remembered Lule bringing her boyfriend home to their old flat. He wore tailored clothes and handmade leather shoes, clearly from a world far removed from their own. Aria had stepped into the bedroom to grab a cardigan when she heard his voice, low and casually cruel .
"I mean, it's sweet that she tries, but this place... It's barely liveable. And she didn't even finish school, did she?"
Aria froze mid-step, breath caught. She could feel her pulse thudding in her ears as she stared at the doorframe's cracked paint.
When she returned a moment later, pretending she hadn't heard, the air in the room had changed.
Lule was sitting stiffly on the sofa, her eyes fixed on him like a hawk poised above prey.
Her smile didn't reach her face, and her fingers tapped against her knee.
The boy-immaculate in a slim blazer and loafers-was entirely unaware of the storm he'd wandered into.
He grinned condescendingly at Aria, as if nothing had happened.
Aria said nothing. She simply walked past them and quietly, almost too quickly, began tidying the kitchen counter-casually sliding the knives back into the drawer, just in case.
Lule stood and stretched, all charm and teeth. "Wine?" she asked sweetly, like nothing had happened at all.
Aria smiled back, but something inside her dipped. She hadn't expected Lule to let it slide.
Lule hadn't said a word then, but the next day, she rang Aria .
"I dumped that ignorant wanker," she'd said cheerfully. "And don't even try to argue, sis. Anyone who treats you like that is lucky I hadn't taken a blowtorch to his arse. I saw you hide the knives. Good thing, too."
Aria had laughed, but then cried after the call.
The sun was still shining between the buildings as Aria walked home. She climbed the stairs to her third-floor flat, passing the drug dealer in the new hoodie, gold chains, and shifty eyes. Khalid had warned her about the going-ons, and she gave him a wide berth.
On the second floor, Fergus was leaning against the railing, arms crossed over his high-vis jacket, a cigarette smouldering between his fingers. He straightened the moment he saw her. "All right, lass?" he said in his thick Glaswegian accent. "Yer lookin' knackered. Waant a haun wi' they bags?"
Aria smiled politely. "I'm fine, thanks."
He flicked the cigarette over the side and took a slow step forward. "Ye sure? Don't mynd, honest. Bin sittin' 'ere waiting tae catch you."
"I'm good, really," she said, shifting the bags and moving past with practiced ease .
Fergus was a truck driver-broad-shouldered, always wearing cargo boots, and relentlessly cheerful. At one point, he'd taken to waiting downstairs most evenings, always 'just passing by' whenever she came home. Somehow, he always seemed to know her shifts.
He meant well, she supposed, but there was a watchful quality to his attention now. The way he leaned in when he talked, always watching and shyly hopeful. He hadn't crossed any lines, but she could feel the shape of them in the air, and she knew they'd be tested if she wasn't careful.
"Well, ye know where tae find me if ye change yer mind, aye?" he called out, still smiling. "I'm no bad company, promise ye that."
"Night, Fergus," she said, already moving to the stairs.
She was halfway to unlocking the door while juggling her grocery bags when it burst open.
"There is my beautiful sister!" Lule cried, tackling her in a hug that nearly knocked her off balance.
"You're squishing me!" Aria laughed, hugging her back, groceries and all .
Inside, the flat smelled of spices and warmth.
Shahi paneer bubbled on the stove, and a plastic bag of naan sat on the table.
Lule was barefoot, wearing her Oxford hoodie and a pair of frayed denim shorts that clung to her like an old lover.
Her long black hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her pale eyes sparkled.
"Dinner's almost ready. Wine's breathing. Ah yes, the 2025 Chateau de Cardboard, truly a robust bouquet of regret and preservatives. Bought it at Aldi."
They settled in with two mismatched glasses of red. Aria peeled onions while Lule scrolled on her phone.
"Rahul called you didi again. He says hi," Lule said, rolling her eyes. "He wants you to meet his family."
Aria raised a brow. "You thinking about it?"
"Too clingy," Lule said breezily, then softened. "Maybe. I don't know. He's sweet. But...I like my space."
Rahul-a tall, easy-going guy with a warm smile and a posh London accent softened by Hindi endearments-had been around for years now, first as a friend since A levels and now as her boyfriend.
He'd visited a few times, always arriving with flowers or dessert, greeting Aria respectfully and calling her didi like she was his actual elder sister.
He ran a successful tech startup in health data analytics, had investors sniffing around, and came from a polished family where both his parents were GPs .
He wasn't just nice; he was serious. And he worshipped the ground Lule walked on.
Lule, naturally, kept dodging any attempts to define the relationship. But she was still texting him, a flicker of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
Lule looked up suddenly. "Enough about me. What's happening with Crispy Chicken Wings?"
"Crispin," Aria corrected.
"Whatever. I saw him on another society page with that Helga woman."
Aria sighed. "I saw it, too."
"Please tell me you're done with him."
"I'm...thinking about it."
Lule glared. "He's a walking beige flag, Aria. I will hack into his dad's company and change every screen saver to him wearing riding gear with Helga as his donkey if you don't dump him."
Aria snorted water through her nose, choking on her laughter. "Stop. That's awful."
"Tell me I'm wrong. Helga sounds like someone who churns butter and serves beer in a dirndl. "
They were howling, wheezing over their wine. Aria wiped her eyes.
Lule nudged her. "Talk to him. Tomorrow."
Aria nodded, quiet again. "Yeah. I will. Soon"
Her phone buzzed.
Crispin:
Can't see you this week. Swamped. Next week maybe?
She put it away. She showed Lule the opal necklace. Lule admired it, but muttered something about her Sherlock Holmes antenna going up.
Later, they lay in bed, squeezed into the same double mattress. Lule's hand found hers in the dark. "You, okay?" Lule asked softly.
Aria squeezed back. "I will be."
She stared at the ceiling, the opal pendant glinting in her mind like a secret promise.
Next week, she would talk to Crispin.
And maybe, just maybe, she needed to move on. No matter how much it hurt to do so.