The iron gate opened with a soft creak as Aanya stepped in, dragging her modest suitcase behind her. She paused, staring at the polished nameplate.
"Mehra Residence."
It had been years, but she remembered that name like a whisper in her heart. Not because it belonged to just any family… but because of him.
Before she could knock, the front door opened.
"Aanya!"
A familiar voice pulled her back to reality. Prerna Mehra stood there in a soft blue kurta, arms open and smiling like warmth in human form.
"You've grown up so much," Prerna said, pulling her into a hug.
Aanya smiled shyly. "Hi, Didi… it's been a long time."
She stepped inside. The house had changed — newer furniture, bigger windows, the scent of fresh flowers and paint — but the energy was the same. Warm, clean, and quiet.
And then she saw him.
Aryan Mehra.
He was standing by the staircase, sleeves rolled up, checking something on his phone. Taller than she remembered. Sharper jawline. More serious. Older.
He looked up, gave a small nod. "You're here."
"Yes," she replied, eyes dropping to the floor. Her heart was racing like it used to when she was 15. Except now, it was louder.
---
Dinner was quiet.
Aanya sat beside Prerna, who filled the silence with little stories about work, their pet Dog, and neighborhood gossip. Aryan barely spoke. He answered when spoken to, but never looked up.
Aanya's heart ached a little. She wasn't surprised. That's just how he was — distant. Guarded.
Aryan's mother was kinder than expected, gently asking about her studies and her father's health. "You don't have to feel like a guest here," she said. "This house is yours too."
After dinner, Aryan's mother stepped out to make a call.
"I'll speak to your father again," she said. "We'll take care of everything."
Aanya nodded, unsure what to say. Her fingers gripped the edge of her dupatta. This felt like a dream she wasn't ready for.
---
Later that night, Aanya sat on the bed in the guest room. Her suitcase lay open, half-unpacked. She stared at the white ceiling fan spinning slowly above her.
She touched the small pendant around her neck — the one she'd bought years ago just because he had once complimented it on someone else.
That's how far her love had gone — quiet, invisible, loyal.
It had been five years since she first saw him — helping his mother and taking care of guests. Just a boy with tired eyes and gentle hands.
She had never told him.
Because she knew what he feared — the same thing she feared.
"What will people say?"
"She's too young."
"It won't work."
And now… they were under the same roof.
She closed her eyes, heart quietly repeating the name she never dared to say out loud:
Aryan.
---
💫 End of Chapter 2