Chapter Seven ~The Past~（Continuation）
In the hazy, the years began to peel away.
A beautiful woman sat on a plush sofa, the sunlight catching the gold embroidery of her saree.
She was focused, her fingers moving with as she mended a piece of fabric with a needle and thread, a maid stood silently by her side.
Suddenly, the peaceful silence was shattered by a heartbroken sob.
The woman looked up, her expression melting into immediate concern as she saw her little Aarvik..only seven years old..rushing toward her, his face flushed and wet with tears.
"Beta... what happened?" she asked softly. She quickly handed the sewing to the maid and opened her arms.
As he reached her, she pulled him onto her lap, cradling him against her chest like he was the most precious thing in the world.
The little boy couldn't stop crying, his small shoulders shook with the weight of a pain he couldn't yet name.
His mother didn't push him for answers, she simply patted his back, her touch soothing against his heartbeat.
"My love, what's wrong?" she whispered, as she massaged his hair. "Did something happen at school today?"
Aarvik pulled back just enough to look at her. His ghostly grey eyes, were currently swimming in a sea of hurt. He gave a small jerky nod.
"My classmates... they call me names because of my eyes.." he choked out, a fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. "They say I look dead, Maa. They say I'm a ghost."
A deep sadness washed over the woman's face, but she forced a tender smile for her son. She reached out with her thumb and gently wiped away his tears.
"Aarvik, listen to me. When you look in the mirror, what do you see?" she asked warmly.
"I see... I see a good boy.." he mumbled, sniffing. "With normal eyes."
"Good. And what do I always tell you?"
"That I am special." he whispered, looking down to fiddle with his small fingers.
She smiled, tilting his chin up so he had to look at her.
"Exactly. So don't let what they say get to you, okay? Their words only have power if you give it to them."
"But... but they say I look scary, Maa.." he whispered, his voice trembling with a deep-seated fear of being an outcast.
"Aarvik, look at me. You don't look scary." she promised. "And mark my words, beta... one day, you will find a girl who will love your eyes. She will look into them and see no fear, only beauty."
The little boy wrinkled his nose, making a grossed-out face that only a seven-year-old could manage.
"No, Maa! I don't want a girl! All the girls in my class call me scary too!"
He buried his face back into her neck, seeking shelter from a world that didn't understand him.
"I'm not talking about those girls, mera bacha." she laughed.. "When you grow older, a beautiful, sweet-souled girl will look into your eyes and she won't call them scary. Instead, she will adore them. She will hold your hand and lead you into a life that is so, so beautiful..."
She began to tickle him, and little Aarvik's somber face split into a wide, joyous grin. His laughter filled the room so bright, chasing away the cold for just a moment.
"But Maa.." Aarvik panted between giggles, "is that how you felt when you first saw Papa? His eyes... they didn't scare you?"
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The warmth seemed to drain out of the air.
His mother's breath hitched, and for a split second, she gulped, a flicker of something..fear? sadness?...crossing her face. But she quickly masked it with a soft strained laugh.
"No... if anything, I wasn't scared.." she whispered, her thoughts drifting away for a while.."But... I thought he was blind at first."
Aarvik tilted his head innocently, his grey eyes wide with wonder. Then, he let out a tiny, high-pitched giggle.
"That's funny, Maa!"
"It is funny, isn't it? But it's the truth.." she said, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I truly thought he couldn't see me..."
Aarvik laughed hard, the irony of the statement delighting his mind. But his mother's smile faltered.
She felt it before she saw it, a suffocating gaze boring into the back of her neck. She turned slowly and saw him.
Standing in the shadows of the arched hallway was her husband. He stood like a statue, those same ghostly, translucent eyes fixed on them.. unreadable, intense, and terrifying.
Aarvik's laughter died in his throat as he saw him too..
Instinctively, he recoiled, pressing himself closer to his mother's chest. His small hands curled into nervous fists, as he looked at the man who gave him his face but none of his warmth.
Mr. Singhania stared at his wife and son for a long moment. His brow darkened, a flicker of something unrecognizable passing through his gaze, before he simply turned and walked away without a single word.
His mother shivered, a visible tremor running through her shoulders. She looked down to find Aarvik watching her, his eyes filled with a heartbreaking sadness.
"Does Papa even like me at all, Maa?" he asked, his voice a tiny broken whisper.
The woman felt a sob rise in her throat as she pulled him back into a protective hug.
"Yes, Aarvik.." she whispered into his hair, her eyes fixed on the empty place where her husband had stood. "He loves you more than anything in this world. He just..."
She trailed off, her voice trembling.. "...he just doesn't know how to show his emotions."
Suddenly...
The light of the dream shattered into a million crimson shards.
The laughter was gone, replaced by the deafening sound of high-caliber gunfire.
The air that once smelled of sandalwood and safety was now thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of gunpowder.
"Maa!!! MAAA!!"
Seven-year-old Aarvik was on his knees, his small frame shaking with a soul-deep terror.
His mother lay on the cold floor, her beautiful saree soaked in a spreading pool of her blood.
Her eyes..those soft, loving eyes..were fixed on nothing, turning a dull, ghostly grey.
The light was gone.
"Maa, please!" he sobbed, his tiny hands turning crimson as he tried to shake her back to life.
Suddenly, a pair of powerful arms wrenched him off the ground. He kicked and screamed, struggling against the familiar, cold grip of his father.
"Maaa!" he shrieked, reaching out one blood-stained hand as he was carried away from the only warmth he had ever known.
He watched over his father's shoulder as her body grew smaller and smaller.
They had the same eyes now, lifeless, grey, and haunted. The only difference was that she was finally at peace, and he... he was left alive in the cold.
~??~
Aarvik's eyes snapped open in the pitch-black darkness of his penthouse.
He bolted upright, his chest heaving as his lungs burned for air.
Sweat soaked his silk sheets, and his breathing came in ragged gasps that echoed in the room.
He buried his face in his palms, his fingers trembling as the images of the blood and the gunfire faded into the shadows of the room.
But as the nightmare receded, a new image flickered behind his eyelids.
Zaira.
He saw her face again, the way her eyes had softened with pity instead of hardening with fear. She hadn't flinched away from the dead look in his eyes, she had leaned in. She had reached out.
Aarvik clenched his teeth, a low sound escaping his throat as he pushed his sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead.
He looked down at his arm, the exact spot where her small, warm hand had gripped him to lead the way.
He could still feel the heat of her skin.
His heart, once again, gave a thud against his ribs. He clamped his hand over his arm, squeezing so hard, as if he could crush her touch into his very bone.
She wasn't scared. His mother was right.
And now that he had found her, he was never, ever going to let her look at anyone else.
Was this who is mother talked about?
Aarvik swung his legs off the bed, the cold marble floor doing nothing to chill the fire burning in his blood. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, the screen's glow illuminating the intent in his grey eyes.
He paced out onto the balcony of his penthouse, the wind whipping his silk shirt against his frame. From this height, the city of Mumbai looked like a fallen stars, cold and indifferent, but Aarvik didn't feel the chill.
His entire world had narrowed down to a single person now.
He dialed a number, a number he only used when he wanted someone erased or exposed. It picked up after only two rings.
"My father brought a young lady into the mansion.." Aarvik said, "Her name is Zaira. Look into her. I want every detail, her past, her friends, her family, why she is here. I want to know her better than she knows herself."
"Understood, Boss.." the voice on the other end replied instantly.
Aarvik ended the call without another word, the silence of the night rushing back in to meet him. He leaned against the railing, his knuckles white as he stared out into the darkness toward the direction of the Singhania estate.
"Zaira..." he mumbled..