The Khanna Mansion
Meera barely slept.
Not because the bed was uncomfortable.
The mattress was softer than anything she had ever touched in her life.
The problem was the silence.
The kind of silence that made expensive places feel lonely.
Morning sunlight slipped through the massive glass windows of the bedroom, but instead of warmth, the room still felt cold.
Empty.
Meera sat up slowly, rubbing her tired eyes before looking around again.
Everything inside the room looked perfect.
Elegant furniture. Fresh white roses. Marble floors. Luxury everywhere.
Yet somehow, nothing felt lived in.
Like the room existed only for appearances.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Before she could answer, the door opened carefully.
A middle-aged woman walked in carrying breakfast on a tray.
“Good morning, ma’am,” she said politely. “I’m Leela.”
Leela
Meera gave a small nod.
Leela placed the tray down before speaking again.
“Madam Savitri asked me to help you get ready downstairs.”
Madam Savitri.
Right.
Aarav’s grandmother.
The only person in this house who had smiled genuinely at Meera yesterday.
Leela hesitated briefly before adding quietly,
“Everyone is waiting for you.”
That sounded less like information and more like a warning.
—
The dining hall downstairs looked bigger than her entire apartment.
A long dining table stretched across the room while servants moved silently around it.
The Khanna family was already seated.
And so was Aarav.
Aarav Khanna sat at the head of the table in a crisp black shirt, calmly reading something on his tablet while drinking coffee.
Not a single glance toward her.
Meera instantly felt irritation rise again.
“Good morning, child.”
Savitri Khanna smiled warmly, motioning her closer.
Unlike everyone else in the mansion, Savitri’s presence felt comforting.
Human.
Meera sat beside her quietly.
Across the table, a younger man grinned lazily.
“Well,” he said dramatically, “our bhabhi is officially surviving the Khanna mansion.”
Kabir Khanna
Meera almost smiled.
Almost.
“And here I thought survival rates were low here.”
Kabir laughed loudly.
A servant nearby nearly dropped a plate in shock.
Meera noticed immediately.
People here weren’t used to speaking freely.
Especially around Aarav.
Interesting.
A soft scoff came from the opposite side of the table.
Naina Khanna looked up from her phone briefly.
“You’ll get used to it,” she said quietly. “Everyone eventually stops talking in this house.”
Something about her tone felt too personal.
Too real.
Before Meera could respond, another man entered the dining hall.
Older. Calm. Perfectly polished.
But something about him instantly felt wrong.
“Ah,” he said smoothly, smiling at Meera. “Our new bride.”
Rajveer Khanna
Aarav’s uncle.
Meera stood politely.
Rajveer’s smile widened slightly.
“You’re even more beautiful than the newspapers described.”
The compliment sounded normal.
But somehow it made her uncomfortable.
Like being examined instead of appreciated.
Rajveer sat beside Aarav calmly.
“You should take Meera to tonight’s charity event,” he told Aarav casually. “The media is obsessed with this marriage.”
Still no reaction from Aarav.
He continued drinking coffee before finally speaking.
“She won’t attend.”
Meera looked at him immediately.
Excuse me?
Rajveer raised an eyebrow.
“And why not?”
Aarav finally looked up from his tablet.
“Because she doesn’t need to be dragged into public appearances immediately.”
Meera stared at him suspiciously.
Was he protecting her?
Or controlling her?
She honestly couldn’t tell.
“Well,” Rajveer said lightly, “she’s part of the Khanna family now. She’ll have to adjust eventually.”
The atmosphere shifted slightly.
Subtle tension.
Aarav’s jaw tightened almost invisibly.
Interesting.
Before things could continue, Savitri interrupted firmly.
“Enough business talk during breakfast.”
Silence followed instantly.
Apparently everyone listened to grandmother.
Good to know.
Meera reached for a glass of juice quietly.
But before she could touch it, a servant accidentally bumped into her chair.
The glass slipped.
Juice spilled directly across the tablecloth.
The servant froze in horror.
“I-I’m sorry, sir—”
The poor man looked terrified.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
Meera followed his gaze.
Straight toward Aarav.
For a second, the entire room became painfully still.
Then Aarav calmly placed his coffee cup down.
“Clean it,” he said simply.
That was it.
No shouting. No anger.
Yet somehow the servant looked relieved enough to cry.
The man apologized repeatedly before rushing away.
Meera frowned slightly.
This family feared Aarav too much.
And Aarav seemed completely used to it.
—
Hours later, Meera wandered through the mansion alone.
The place felt endless.
Massive hallways. Expensive paintings. Silent servants everywhere.
Nothing about the mansion felt warm.
It felt controlled.
Like every person here was pretending to breathe carefully.
Meera stopped near the far end of the corridor when she noticed one particular door.
Unlike the others, this one remained locked.
Something about it stood out immediately.
She moved closer.
Then paused.
There were faint scratches near the handle.
As if someone had tried opening it desperately once.
A strange chill ran down her spine.
“You shouldn’t go there.”
Meera turned sharply.
Aarav stood behind her.
She hadn’t even heard him approach.
Typical.
Her eyes moved back toward the locked door.
“What’s inside?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
Cold again.
Meera crossed her arms.
“You know, mysterious answers only make people more curious.”
Aarav’s expression remained unreadable.
“Curiosity creates problems in this house.”
“And secrets don’t?”
For a brief second, something dangerous flickered in his eyes again.
But it disappeared quickly.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
“Listen carefully, Meera,” he said quietly. “There are parts of this house you stay away from.”
His tone wasn’t loud.
But it carried warning.
Meera lifted her chin stubbornly.
“And if I don’t?”
Aarav stared at her silently for a long moment.
Then his gaze shifted slightly toward the locked room behind her.
For the first time since meeting him—
Meera saw genuine emotion crack through his calm exterior.
Pain.
Raw and ugly.
Gone within seconds.
“Trust me,” he said quietly, “you don’t want to open that door.”
And before she could ask anything else—
he walked away.
Leaving Meera alone in the silent hallway.
Staring at the locked room.
And wondering what kind of ghost still lived inside it.
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