CHAPTER 8 （mahi）
Screams.
"Maahi!"
My mother's voice.
Desperate.
Terrified.
"You'll be fine, kid. You'll be fine."
Another voice.
A doctor's voice.
Then crying.
So much crying.
"Doctor!"
My mother sobbed.
The world blurred.
A hospital room.
Bright lights.
The sharp smell of antiseptic.
Then—
My mother.
Lying motionless on the hospital bed.
No.
No.
No.
Aarushi stood beside her.
Tears streamed down her face.
Her eyes burned with hatred as she pointed at me.
"You killed her."
My breath caught.
"She was thinking about you."
"No."
"You killed her."
"No."
My chest tightened.
The room spun.
My breathing grew faster.
"No!"
My eyes flew open.
Darkness.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
My breaths came too fast.
Too shallow.
Sweat clung to my forehead.
For a few seconds, I couldn't tell where I was.
Hospital.
Home.
Mansion.
Dream.
Reality.
Then it came back to me.
The room.
The bed.
The mansion.
A dream.
Just a dream.
I pressed a trembling hand against my chest.
"Relax, Mahi."
My voice sounded small in the darkness.
"It was a dream."
A shaky breath escaped me.
"Nothing else."
Another breath.
"Just a dream."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.
Nothing.
Great.
Of course there was no water.
Carefully, I slipped out of bed.
Aryan was still asleep on the couch.
Mission One:
Leave the room without waking the dragon.
I moved toward the door as quietly as possible.
A soft click echoed through the room as I closed it behind me
Success.
Mission accomplished.
Now for Mission Two.
Find the kitchen in this maze of a mansion.
I closed my eyes, trying to remember the route Noor had shown me earlier.
Left corridor.
Stairs.
Another corridor.
Then the kitchen.
To my surprise, I actually remembered.
A smile appeared on my face.
Maybe there was hope for my sense of direction after all.
The mansion was silent as I made my way through the hallways.
Only the moonlight spilling through the windows guided me.
A few minutes later, the kitchen came into view.
I slowed.
My feet froze.
Light.
Coming from inside.
More specifically—
The refrigerator.
Its door was open.
And the sound of utensils clinking reached my ears.
I blinked.
A thief?
In this house?
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Then another thought crossed my mind.
How did the thief manage to find the kitchen?
Because if it were me, I would have gotten lost three corridors ago.
I carefully peeked inside the kitchen.
A black-hooded figure stood in front of the refrigerator.
The fridge light illuminated part of his face as he searched for something inside.
I stared.
Then stared some more.
A strange feeling of pity filled me.
How stupid could someone be?
Out of all the places in this mansion, he chose the kitchen to rob?
Not a bedroom.
Not an office.
Not a safe.
The kitchen.
At this point, he deserved to get caught.
Shaking my head, I tiptoed inside.
My eyes landed on a frying pan.
Perfect.
I grabbed it and silently moved closer.
The figure was still busy searching through the fridge.
Honestly, he was making this far too easy.
Once I was standing right behind him, I reached for the switch and turned on the kitchen lights.
The room flooded with brightness.
The hooded figure immediately spun around.
Before he could react, I raised the pan and pressed it against his throat.
His eyes widened.
Mine narrowed.
"Who are you?"
I tightened my grip on the pan.
"And what exactly are you doing here?"
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then my eyes drifted toward the refrigerator.
A pause.
I looked back at him.
"...Please don't tell me you're stealing leftovers."
The hooded man blinked.
Then blinked again.
The confusion on his face was so genuine that I almost felt bad.
Almost.
"Why would I steal from my own house?" he asked.
I narrowed my eyes.
A likely story.
I pushed the pan a little closer to his throat.
His eyebrows shot up.
"You should be in a mental asylum."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
He looked personally offended.
"Excuse me?"
I ignored him.
"You broke into a mansion and decided to steal leftovers."
I pointed toward the refrigerator.
"Leftovers."
The man stared at me.
I stared back.
Honestly, I was beginning to understand why criminals got caught.
Some of them simply lacked common sense.
"Are you really that hungry?"
For a second, complete silence filled the kitchen.
Then the man slowly lowered his head.
His shoulders started shaking.
I tightened my grip on the pan.
Great.
Now he was crying.
The world's worst thief.
Then a laugh escaped him.
A full laugh.
My eyes narrowed further.
Oh.
He wasn't crying.
He was laughing at me.
The audacity.
"What are you both doing?"
A familiar voice echoed through the kitchen.
I turned my head.
Aryan stood in the doorway.
His hair was slightly messy from sleep, and judging by the expression on his face, he was questioning every decision that had led him to this moment.
Relief filled me.
Finally.
A witness.
"I caught a thief," I announced proudly while pressing the pan more firmly against the hooded man's throat.
The hooded man looked scandalized.
"Brother!" he cried.
I froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
I turned my head toward him.
"Brother?"
Then I looked at Aryan.
Then back at the hooded man.
Then back at Aryan again.
Confusion completely took over my brain.
Who was whose brother?
Aryan pinched the bridge of his nose.
A gesture I was beginning to notice he used whenever he was regretting his existence.
"Mahi."
His voice was painfully calm.
"He's my brother."
Silence.
I stared at Aryan.
Then at the pan.
Then at the man.
Then back at Aryan.
A long pause followed.
Finally, I lowered the pan.
"Then why was he stealing leftovers?"
The kitchen went silent.
The hooded man looked offended.
Aryan closed his eyes.
And for some reason, that made me even more suspicious.
Because nobody had actually answered my question.
"I wasn't stealing anything," the hooded man said.
"I was hungry."
I immediately pointed at him.
"Then who wears a hoodie inside their own house at two in the morning?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Apparently, he didn't have an answer.
Aryan took a step forward.
"Mahi."
I looked at him.
He is Ekaansh.
Ekaansh , Aryan's brother
The one I had just threatened with a frying pan.
Slowly, I lowered the pan.
A smile tugged at my lips.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Don't laugh.
Not now.
Absolutely not now.
Unfortunately, my brain had already replayed the entire scene.
The hoodie.
The refrigerator.
The leftovers.
The pan.
The accusation.
A snort escaped me.
I quickly covered my mouth.
No.
No laughing.
This was serious.
Very serious.
I looked at Ekaansh.
Then at the fridge.
Then back at Ekaansh.
"I thought you were a poor thief who couldn't afford food."
A huff of laughter escaped me.
I immediately covered my mouth again.
My shoulders started shaking.
Oh no.
This was getting worse.
Across from me, Ekaansh stared.
Then he looked at Aryan.
Then back at me.
"I got assaulted for being hungry."
"I did not assault you."
"You held a frying pan against my throat."
"That's called investigating."
Aryan closed his eyes.
For some reason, I had a feeling he wanted to walk back upstairs and pretend none of us existed.
I placed the frying pan back on the shelf.
Very professionally.
As if I hadn't just held it against someone's throat.
Ekaansh rubbed his neck dramatically.
Then he looked at me.
"And who exactly are you?"
A pause.
"Besides a police officer."
I narrowed my eyes.
"I am Mahi."
I pointed toward Aryan.
"Your brother's wife."
Then I pointed at myself.
"And I'm not a police officer."
Ekaansh raised an eyebrow.
"Could've fooled me."
I ignored him.
"Besides, anyone would have done the same thing."
Aryan released a long breath.
The kind of breath people released when they were disappointed in humanity.
"A normal person would have called the police."
I rolled my eyes.
"A normal person would have called someone in the house."
He paused.
Then looked directly at me.
"But my wife, Mahi Rathore, decided to threaten the thief with a frying pan."
I crossed my arms.
"My first instinct isn't running away from a problem."
Aryan stared at me for a second.
Then, without missing a beat, he said,
"Then from now on, try following your second instinct
Silence.
Ekaansh looked at me.
Then at Aryan.
Then back at me.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
I narrowed my eyes.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
A pause.
Then he pointed at Aryan.
"I finally understand why he's always annoyed."
Aryan looked offended.
I looked offended.
Which only made Ekaansh laugh harder.
I crossed my arms over my chest.
Aryan looked at me.
"Besides threatening my brother with a frying pan, what exactly were you doing here?"
I blinked.
Then pointed toward the sink.
"I came to drink water."
For a moment, complete silence filled the kitchen.
Ekaansh stared at me.
Aryan stared at me.
I stared back.
What?
It was a perfectly reasonable answer.
Aryan shook his head.
A laugh threatening to escape him.
"Then drink water."
He turned toward Ekaansh.
"And you."
Ekaansh immediately looked innocent.
Which somehow made him look guiltier.
"Never wear that hoodie again when she's home."
Ekaansh looked offended.
"It was cold."
"I don't care."
"Brother—"
"I am serious."
Ekaansh glanced at me.
Then at the frying pan.
Then back at Aryan.
"...Fair."
I nodded.
A wise decision.
Ignoring both of them, I walked toward the sink.
My mission had not changed.
I filled a glass and drank the water.
The cold liquid immediately soothed my throat.
Success.
Mission completed.
Hydration achieved.
Meanwhile, behind me, Ekaansh looked at Aryan.
Then at me.
Then back at Aryan.
"Brother."
Aryan already looked tired.
"What?"
Ekaansh lowered his voice.
"I like her."
I nearly choked on my water.
Aryan closed his eyes.
Apparently, his peaceful night had officially ended.
Ekaansh's grin widened.
Unfortunately for him, Aryan noticed.
Immediately.
Aryan rubbed a hand over his face.
The same way people did when they were questioning every life decision that had led them to this moment.
"Ekaansh."
His voice was calm.
Dangerously calm.
Ekaansh straightened.
"Yes, brother?"
"Go to your room."
A pause.
"Now."
Ekaansh looked between us.
Clearly hoping for more entertainment.
Unfortunately for him, Aryan wasn't in the mood.
Ekaansh sighed dramatically.
"Fine."
Then he pointed at me.
"It was nice meeting you, Bhabhi."
I waved.
"It was nice falsely accusing you of theft."
Ekaansh laughed.
Aryan did not.
Taking the hint, Ekaansh quickly disappeared from the kitchen.
The moment he was gone, silence settled between us.
Aryan looked at me.
I immediately focused on my water.
Very interesting water.
Excellent quality.
Ten out of ten.
"And you."
I glanced up.
He was pointing at me.
I pointed at myself.
"Yeah, me?"
"Yes, you."
I placed the glass on the counter.
"What?"
He stared at me for a second.
Then released another tired breath.
The third one tonight.
Possibly the fourth.
Honestly, I had lost count.
"Can you please go to sleep now?"
For a moment, I simply blinked.
Then a smile tugged at my lips.
That wasn't anger.
That wasn't annoyance.
That was pure exhaustion.
I nodded.
"Fair enough."
Aryan looked relieved.
Actually relieved.
As if he had successfully completed a difficult task.
Which was rude.
I grabbed my glass.
He started walking toward the door.
Then stopped.
A thought crossed his mind.
Slowly, he turned around.
I raised an eyebrow.
"What now?"
He looked at me.
Then at the frying pan.
Then back at me.
"Leave the weapon in the kitchen."
I stared at him.
Then at the frying pan.
Then back at him.
"...I hate that you're making a valid point."
For the first time that night, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.