Meera hated how quiet the mansion was.
Not peaceful quiet.
Heavy quiet.
The kind that made every sound feel wrong.
By the third morning after the wedding, she had already realized something disturbing about the Khanna mansion—
everyone here walked carefully.
Servants spoke softly. Doors closed silently. Nobody laughed loudly.
It was like the entire house existed around one man’s mood.
And that man barely spoke at all.
Meera sat near the large bedroom window, absentmindedly stirring her untouched coffee while her thoughts drifted back to the locked room from yesterday.
And Aarav’s face.
That brief crack in his expression.
Pain.
Real pain.
Before she could think further, a knock sounded on the door.
Leela entered carefully carrying freshly ironed clothes.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
Meera gave a tired nod.
Leela placed the clothes neatly on the bed before beginning in a practiced tone.
“Breakfast is served downstairs at eight sharp. Lunch is usually with Madam Savitri unless Mr. Khanna has meetings. The west wing remains closed after evening, and—”
“Wait,” Meera interrupted slowly. “Are you giving me a schedule or prison rules?”
Leela immediately looked nervous.
Too nervous.
Meera noticed instantly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, I’m serious,” Meera continued, standing up. “Why does everyone in this house behave like they’re terrified of making mistakes?”
Leela lowered her eyes.
“This house values discipline.”
Meera let out a dry laugh.
“No. This house values fear.”
Silence.
Leela didn’t answer.
And somehow, that answer felt louder than words.
—
By afternoon, Meera had officially reached her limit.
All she wanted was to visit her family for a few hours.
That shouldn’t have been difficult.
Except apparently, in the Khanna mansion, nothing happened without Aarav Khanna’s permission.
“Permission?” Meera repeated in disbelief.
The security guard standing near the entrance looked uncomfortable.
“Mr. Khanna instructed that all travel arrangements should be approved beforehand.”
Meera stared at him.
“You’re joking.”
The man wisely stayed silent.
Unbelievable.
Anger rose instantly inside her as she turned sharply toward Aarav’s office.
If this man thought marriage meant ownership, he was about to regret it.
The office door opened without warning.
Aarav didn’t even look up immediately.
Of course he didn’t.
He sat behind a massive dark wooden desk, focused on documents spread before him while sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.
Everything about the room matched him perfectly.
Minimal. Cold. Controlled.
“Do people normally knock before entering,” he asked calmly, still reading the file in his hand, “or are rules optional for you?”
Meera crossed her arms.
“Funny. I was just learning about your obsession with rules.”
That finally got his attention.
Aarav looked up slowly.
“What happened?”
“Oh, nothing serious,” she replied sarcastically. “Apparently I just need your permission before leaving the house now.”
Aarav’s expression didn’t change.
“There are security protocols.”
Meera laughed in disbelief.
“Do I need permission to breathe here too?”
“You’re part of this family now,” he said evenly. “There are procedures.”
“No,” she snapped. “There’s fear.”
Silence filled the office instantly.
The tension shifted sharply between them.
For a second, Aarav simply stared at her.
Unreadable as always.
Then he leaned back slightly in his chair.
“You’re overreacting.”
Meera almost laughed at that.
“Your staff looks terrified of you.”
“They’re disciplined.”
“They’re scared.”
A muscle tightened briefly in Aarav’s jaw.
Interesting.
Finally, a reaction.
“You’ve been here three days,” he said quietly. “You know nothing about this family.”
“Then maybe someone should start explaining things instead of treating me like a hostage.”
Aarav’s gaze hardened slightly.
“You agreed to this marriage.”
“For my family,” Meera shot back immediately. “Not so you could control every part of my life.”
For the first time since entering the office, Aarav looked genuinely irritated.
Not angry.
Just tired.
Exhausted, almost.
Meera suddenly noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes.
The untouched coffee beside him.
The endless files covering his desk.
This man worked like he was trying to outrun something.
Or forget something.
The realization unsettled her unexpectedly.
Aarav finally stood up.
Tall. Intimidating. Too close suddenly.
“You can visit your family whenever you want,” he said calmly. “The security arrangements exist because my family has enemies.”
Meera frowned slightly.
“Enemies?”
Aarav ignored the question completely.
Typical.
“I’ll inform security,” he continued. “Anything else?”
His detached tone irritated her all over again.
“You know,” she muttered, “for someone who forced this marriage, you’re surprisingly bad at being a husband.”
Something unreadable flashed briefly across his face.
Gone within seconds.
“Fortunately,” he replied coolly, “being a husband was never part of the agreement.”
That stung more than she expected.
And she hated that it did.
Meera turned sharply toward the door.
But halfway down the staircase outside—
her saree caught under her heel.
Everything happened too fast.
Her balance slipped instantly.
Before panic could fully hit—
a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
Meera gasped softly.
Aarav pulled her back before she could fall.
For one suspended moment—
everything stopped.
His hand remained firmly against her waist. Her fingers gripped his shoulder instinctively. Their faces stood dangerously close.
Meera could hear his breathing.
Feel the warmth of his hand even through layers of fabric.
Aarav’s jaw tightened slightly as his eyes met hers.
And suddenly the tension between them didn’t feel angry anymore.
It felt worse.
Aware.
Neither moved immediately.
Then Aarav stepped back first.
Of course he did.
The distance returned instantly.
Cold and frustrating.
“You should be more careful,” he said calmly.
Meera stared at him.
Her heartbeat still hadn’t settled properly.
“You should stop appearing out of nowhere like a psychopath.”
To her surprise—
the corner of Aarav’s mouth almost twitched.
Almost.
Then the expression disappeared completely.
Without another word, he walked away.
Leaving Meera standing there confused and irrationally annoyed by the fact that she had noticed how good his hands felt around her waist.
Wonderful.
—
That evening, Savitri Khanna called Meera into her room.
Unlike the rest of the mansion, Savitri’s room felt warm.
Lived in.
Human.
“You’re adjusting?” Savitri asked gently.
Meera hesitated.
“I think your grandson runs this house like a military camp.”
To her surprise, Savitri laughed softly.
“He wasn’t always like this.”
Meera looked up immediately.
There it was again.
That sentence everyone hinted at but never explained fully.
“What happened to him?”
For a moment, sadness crossed Savitri’s face.
“Some people survive pain by becoming stone,” she said quietly.
The words lingered heavily in the room.
Before Meera could ask more, Savitri simply smiled faintly.
“And some wounds never heal properly.”
—
Late that night, Meera woke unexpectedly.
At first she thought she imagined it.
Then she heard it again.
Piano music.
Soft. Slow. Painfully sad.
The sound drifted faintly through the silent mansion corridors.
Curiosity pulled her out of bed before logic could stop her.
Barefoot, she followed the music quietly through the dark hallway.
The melody grew clearer near the west wing.
Near the locked room.
Meera slowed.
A nearby door stood slightly open.
Light spilled faintly from inside.
Carefully, she stepped closer.
And froze.
Aarav sat alone before a grand piano inside the dark room.
His eyes were closed while his fingers moved slowly across the keys.
No coldness. No control. No emotionless mask.
For the first time—
he looked broken.
The music carried grief so deep it almost hurt to hear.
Meera stood there silently, unable to move.
Then suddenly—
the music stopped.
Aarav’s fingers stilled over the piano keys.
Without turning around, he spoke quietly.
“How long are you planning to stand there?”
And somehow—
his voice sounded even lonelier than the music.
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