Chapter Six ~The Past~
The air of Mumbai hit Zaira the moment they stepped out of the airport, but she didn't mind.
She was finally here.
"Now, listen to me, princess." her father said, stopping her near the terminal exit with Zaira's mother. He took her face in his hands, his eyes filled with a sadness he couldn't hide.
"Your wish to study here in Mumbai has come true. But as much as I hate to let you out of my sight, I'm still terrified for your safety."
Zaira offered him a bright, reassuring smile, her heart light with the excitement of a new beginning.
"Papa, I'm only going to be on my own for four years! I'll come to visit every single holiday, I promise. Trust me."
Her father let out a small chuckle and kissed the top of her head.
"I know, I know. Now... let's talk about your living arrangements."
Zaira started to roll her eyes playfully. "Yes, Papa. I know. I'll be perfectly safe in the university dorms-"
"No, sweetie.." he interrupted, his voice turning serious. "You aren't staying in a dorm. You'll be staying at the home of one of my oldest, most trusted friends."
Zaira blinked. Then she blinked again, the smile slowly sliding off her face as she realized he wasn't joking.
"What?" she breathed, her grip tightening on the handle of her luggage "But... you said you were comfortable with me staying at the school! You promised!"
Before she could continue her protest. A Bentley came to a halt right in front of them, followed immediately by two black SUVs.
Zaira stared at the darkened windows of the Bentley.
"Um..." Zaira's voice trailed off as she watched her father's face break into a wide, relieved grin.
She turned back toward the convoy just as the doors of the Bentley swung open.
A woman stepped out first, radiant and elegantly dressed, her presence instantly brightening the drab airport sidewalk.
The heavy silk of her emerald saree shimmering in the afternoon light, her gold kadas catching the sun.
But it was the man who stepped out from the other side who made Zaira's breath hitch in her throat.
She took an instinctive step back.
"Is he... blind?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, but her mother heard.
"Zaira! That is rude." her mother said.
"I'm sorry, Maa..." Zaira murmured.
"Abhi! Nikita!" The elegant woman, beamed as she hurried toward them. She pulled Zaira's mother into a tight embrace.
"Hello, Karina." her mother laughed.
Karina broke the hug and turned her attention to the girl standing quietly with her luggage. Her eyes lit up.
"And this must be Zaira? Oh, my goodness! Look at how much she has grown. She's stunning!"
Zaira offered a shy awkward smile, but her gaze was pulled back to the man standing beside the Bentley.
"Abhi..." the man said, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone that commanded attention.
Zaira gulped, her fingers tightening on the handle of her suitcase. He looked so stern.
Her father walked over to him, and the two men shared a firm, respectful hug.
"It's been too long, my friend.." her father said, pulling back to look the man in the eye. "I hope what I've asked of you isn't going to be too much trouble?"
The man's gaze shifted. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head until those striking, ghostly eyes landed directly on Zaira.
She flinched, a cold shiver racing down her spine. Up close, his eyes were a beautiful, haunting grey, so light they looked like mist.
Can he even see through those? she wondered.
"She will be my daughter here.." Mr. Singhania stated, his voice dropping into a protective vow. His light, haunting eyes never wavered from Zaira's face.
"Hi, Zaira."
"H..hi, Uncle.." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the airport traffic.
Then, something happened that Zaira didn't expect.
The stern granite-like mask of his face cracked, and he smiled.
It was a radiant, genuine expression that transformed his features, making those ghostly grey eyes suddenly swirl with a paternal warmth.
The fear in Zaira's chest ebbed away, and she found herself smiling back, her tension melting.
When he smiles, he doesn't look scary at all.. she thought. He looks kind.
"Zaira, meet the Singhanias." her father said, placing a proud hand on her shoulder.
"You will be staying with them for the duration of your university years. You will be safe here. Safer than anywhere else in the world."
Zaira blinked, the reality of the situation finally settling in. A mansion instead of a dorm. High-security convoys instead of student buses.
"Um... okay, Papa." she murmured.
"Oh my gosh! She is just precious!" Karina exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement any longer. she rushed forward and pulled Zaira into a hug so tight it nearly squeezed the breath out of her.
"You're the same age as my daughter.." Karina whispered against her hair, her voice full of life and affection.
"She's currently studying abroad, so from this moment on, you are my daughter too. I promise I will look after you as if you were my own blood."
Karina smelled of expensive jasmine and genuine kindness. She seemed so vibrant, so full of soul...the polar opposite of Mr. Singhania.
"Thank you again for this, Karina." Zaira's mother said, as she watched her daughter being welcomed so warmly.
"Oh, hush, Nikita." Karina laughed, pulling back, "Zaira is a Singhania now. I'll make sure she has everything her heart desires."
"Princess. Please, take the best care of yourself, okay? I'm going to miss you so much." her father whispered, pulling her into one last, crushing embrace.
Zaira squeezed him back, burying her face in his shoulder.
"I'll be home for the mid-semester break before you guys even have time to miss me. I promise."
Her mother let out a small, tearful giggle, nodding as she stepped in to join the hug.
But then, the moment broke.
"Let's go, dear." Karina said gently.
She signaled to a guard, who stepped forward to carry Zaira's luggage toward the waiting convoy.
"I love you guys! I'll call every single night!" Zaira called out, her heart heavy as she began to walk toward the Bentley.
Her father looked at his old friend, a silent, heavy plea in his eyes.
Mr. Singhania gave a single, solemn nod, a pact between men that the girl would be protected at all costs.
"I promise to take care of her." Karina added, touching Nikita's arm one last time. "I will watch over her as if she were my own. Rest assured."
~★☆~
As the convoy drove away, Zaira watched through the tinted glass until her parents were nothing but tiny specks on the horizon.
The drive through the city, but as they reached the outskirts, the scenery shifted. The place looked so, isolated.
The estate route is lined with trees that seemed to lean in..
Few minutes later..
The car slowed as they reached a set of massive gates.
Beyond the gates lay a winding, private road lined..
They drove for what felt like miles, the lush greenery of the estate stretching out on either side. Zaira pressed her forehead against the cool glass, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"It would take someone at least thirty minutes just to walk from the main gate to the house itself." she mumbled to herself.
The Bentley came to a silent stop and Zaira stepped out onto the white stone.
"Welcome to our humble home, beta." Karina said. She stepped out, Her husband stood beside her.
Zaira's eyes darted from the towering pillars to the manicured lawns.
Guards in black uniforms were stationed at every entrance, their expressions as unyielding as the stone walls.
"This... this isn't a house.." Zaira whispered, "It's a mahal."
Karina let out a laugh that echoed against the marble portico.
"You have a poetic heart, Zaira. Now, let me call one of the guards to take those bags to your room."
"No, no! Aunty, please." Zaira insisted, her cheeks flushing a deep rose.
The idea of a grown man carrying her suitcase felt wrong, too extravagant for someone like her.
"I can manage. I've got it."
Karina offered a knowing, indulgent smile. "As you wish."
Zaira gripped the handle of her luggage and followed the Singhanias through the towering doors.
The moment she crossed the threshold, the world changed.
The humid heat of the city was replaced by a chilled filtered air that smelled of sandalwood and old untouchable money.
Her simple sandals made a thud-thud against the vast expanse of the polished Italian marble floor.
She kept pulling her suitcase behind her as they walked deeper into the silent heart of the mansion.
~??~
The carved door swung open and Zaira followed Karina into a room that looked like it had been plucked straight from a luxury magazine.
Zaira stopped in her tracks, her eyes swept over the space.
"T..this will be my room?" she asked.
The ceiling was a masterpiece of intricate plasterwork, with a crystal chandelier that dripped like frozen rain from the center, casting dancing prisms of light across the walls.
The bed was massive, high-thread-count linens and plush silk cushions, and the furniture gleamed with a deep, expensive polish.
"Yes, Zaira." Karina said. She watched Zaira's reaction with a satisfied smile.
"And if you ever need anything..anything at all..you must come to me immediately. This is your home now."
Zaira blinked then she looked at Karina and gave a slow overwhelmed nod.
"Thank you, Aunty. It's... it's more than I ever expected."
Karina stepped forward and patted Zaira's cheek affectionately.
"Settle in well, beta. I know the mansion can be intimidatingly large, so I'll send a maid up to be stationed near your wing. That way, you won't find yourself getting lost in the hallways."
Zaira managed a small shy smile in return. With one last encouraging look, Karina turned and walked out of the room.
Zaira stood still for a long moment, then slowly sank onto the edge of the mattress.
It was so soft she felt like she was sitting on a cloud.
A wave of sudden longing hit her...she missed the modest warmth of her parents' home and her mother's voice in the kitchen.
But she wasn't here to be a princess, she was here to finish her degree..
Better arrange my things.. she told herself, forcing a breath of determination.
She had exactly one week to adjust to the silence of this place before the chaos of the new semester began.
~☆☆~
The late evening breeze rustling through the trimmed, maze-like hedges of the Singhania gardens.
Zaira sat tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate, gently swaying on a wrought-iron swing. The only sound was the soft creak of the chains and the thumping of her own heart.
She gasped, her fingers tightening around the spine of her novel.
It was a dark romance, the kind of story that made her skin prickle with a mix of fear and fascination.
"This isn't love! You've caged me in your fortress and called it devotion?! I don't even know who you are!" the heroine screamed, her voice trembling with terror.
Standing before her was a man who looked less like a man and more like a god of war.
His eyes were wild with a terrifying obsession, and his silhouette was stained with the blood of the men he had slaughtered to keep her. He held a heavy sword, the steel still gleaming with a lethal crimson.
"I don't care.." the warlord yelled, his voice a thunderous vow that shook the very walls of the fortress..
"You are tied to me by blood and soul! You are meant for only me! If I have to kill every man who dares to look at you, I will...starting with that pathetic Rajkumar you smile at! YOU ARE MINE!"
Zaira's breath hitched. She slammed the book shut, her chest heaving as she tried to shake off the suffocating intensity of the words.
"Gosh, it's so scary.." she whispered. "I pity her... being trapped in a world she doesn't understand, obsessed over by a man that even kings fear."
She hugged the book to her chest, feeling a deep wave of sympathy for the fictional girl.
One of the household maids approaching with a respectful bow.
"Miss Zaira." the maid said softly, her eyes downcast. "Dinner is served. The family is waiting."
Zaira managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you. I'm coming."
She stood up, smoothing out her clothes and clutching her book, as she followed the maid back toward the brightly lit mansion.
As they reached the portico, the maid, who was moving fast, already disappeared inside, Zaira, unable to resist just one more glimpse into the warlord's dark world, flipped her novel open to read a final line.
She was so absorbed in the fiction that she didn't see the shadow stretching across the marble.
Thud.
Zaira collided head-on with a solid chest. The impact sent her book sprawling across the floor, and a pain shot through her forehead.
"Ouch..." she hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She looked up to offer an apology, but the words died in her throat.
Standing before her was a man..
He was tall, devilishly handsome, imposing, and draped in a cold aura. But it was his eyes that stopped her heart.
They were a ghostly, translucent grey...so pale and still that they looked almost... lifeless.
Instinctively, Zaira flinched, her body recoiling from the raw power he radiated.
But as she stared at those silver-misted eyes, a wave of pity washed over her.
Is he blind? she wondered..
"I'm so sorry! are you okay? Do you need help?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
Aarvik's brow furrowed into a deep scowl. What? his mind yelled.
Does she actually think I'm blind?
He didn't move, but rather just stared at her, his gaze drilling into her soul.
Zaira felt a thick layer of unease coat her skin under his relentless stare, but she pushed through it.
She couldn't just leave a blind man standing there.
"Here, let me help you. I am so, so sorry for bumping into you.." she said softly.
Before Aarvik could react..before he could even process the audacity of it..Zaira reached out.
Her warm, small hand slid into his, her fingers curling around his palm to lead him.
Aarvik felt a shiver rip through his entire body. The touch was like a brand, searing his skin.
He hated been touched by a woman, or anyone. But, this.. this was, different.
A strange suffocating tightness seized his chest, making it impossible to breathe.
He should have pulled away. He should have destroyed her for the disrespect. But instead, he stayed silent.
"Are you here to see Aunty and Uncle?" she asked, her voice sweet and oblivious as she began to lead him.
"No.." he managed to grate out, his voice a low, rough rumble. His eyes remained fixed on her profile, memorizing every curve of her face. "I just...need to get to my car."
Zaira carefully guided him toward the waiting obsidian vehicle. Along the driveway, the elite Singhania guards froze in their tracks.
Their mouths dropped open, and their eyes bulged in shock. They watched in a deathly silence as this tiny, smiling girl led their terrifying, blood-chilling Boss by the hand as if he were a child.
"S..sir..." the driver stammered, his eyes bulging as he watched his lethal, untouchable boss being led by the hand. He looked like he was witnessing a miracle-or a catastrophe.
"Open the door.." Aarvik commanded, the driver gulp and scramble to wrench the door open.
With a gentle, guiding hand, Zaira helped the man, Aarvik, into the plush leather interior of the car. She stood by the open door for a second, her face glowing under the afternoon sun.
"Get home safe." she said with a nervous smile. "And I'm so sorry again for bumping into you.."
She closed the heavy door with a soft thud. Through the tinted glass, Aarvik turned his head. He didn't look like a man, he looked like a haunted specter, his grey eyes boring into hers with a depth that made the air in her lungs turn to ice.
Zaira felt that familiar shiver of unease crawl up her spine. There was something in those eyes-something dark, but yet again she might be wrong. She took a small, instinctive step back from the car.
"Um... bye." she whispered, offering a small wave before turning to hurry back toward the safety of the house.
Aarvik's brow furrowed into a deep, painful scowl as he watched her retreating figure. He felt the window slide up, sealing him back into his cold, silent world, but the warmth of her hand still felt like it was seared into his skin.
"Who was that?" he asked the driver, his voice sounding raw, like he'd forgotten how to speak.
"That is Ms. Zaira, Sir.." the driver replied, his voice trembling. "She moved into the estate two months ago. A family friend of your father."
Aarvik didn't look away. Through the glass, he watched her bend down to retrieve her novel, the dark romance she had been so lost in. She stood up, brushed off the cover, and disappeared into the mansion.
Not once did she turn back. Not once did she look to see if he was still watching.
Aarvik slowly raised his hand, pressing his palm flat against his chest. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic, wild rhythm that he hadn't felt in years. It felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his body just to follow her.
"Drive.." he gritted out, the word sounding like a vow. "Back to the penthouse."