The morning sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains of Aanya's small room, painting the walls in soft gold. The air was fresh, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens outside. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the rustle of leaves and the muffled chatter of staff moving through their morning routines.

It was almost peaceful... almost.

She sat up slowly, stretching her sore arms — a reminder of the endless work she had done the day before. After washing her face and tying her hair back neatly, she stepped out into the quiet hallways of the mansion.

It was 8 a.m.
Ishaan had already left for the office.
Jiya, too, had gone to college.

But even in their absence, the mansion was not silent. From the kitchen came the clinking of utensils, the sizzle of something frying, and the rich aroma of spices filling the air.

Curious, Aanya followed the sounds and stepped into the kitchen — and stopped.

On the counters were several prepared dishes, and more were still being cooked. There were bright plates of fresh salad, steaming curries, golden breads puffing on the tawa. It looked like a feast in the making.

She turned to Nita aunty, her brow raised.
"Aunty, who are all these dishes for? Ishaan sir and Jiya have already left, haven't they? Are we expecting guests?"

Nita glanced at her, a warm smile tugging at her lips.
"Yes, beta. But not a guest... the youngest son of this house is coming home today. Jay."

Aanya tilted her head.
"Jay? But... I thought you said he was in London, studying? How is he suddenly coming back?"

Nita chuckled softly as she stirred a pot.
"I don't know the details. This morning, before leaving, Ishaan beta told me Jay would be here today, and we'd all be having lunch together." Her smile faded into a softer, more thoughtful look. "Since Nisha beta passed away... this will be the first time Ishaan, Jay, and Jiya will sit together for a meal. I don't even remember the last time Ishaan had lunch at home. That's why I'm making all their favorite dishes."

Her voice wavered slightly, sadness filling the space between them.
"If only Ishwari ma'am could be here too..."

Aanya stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry, aunty. She'll join them soon. I'm sure she'll recover."

Nita's eyes softened.
"I hope so, beta. I really do." She exhaled and returned to her work.

A moment later, she turned back to Aanya.
"Aanya, can you go and prepare Jay's room for him? I would do it myself, but I doubt I'll be free with all this cooking. Just change the bedsheet, replace the curtains, and do a little dusting. That's all."

Aanya nodded. "Of course. Which room is his?"

"On the second floor, to the left. There are two rooms on that side — the left one is Jiya's, the right one is Jay's."

Aanya glanced upward toward the grand staircase. The second floor was quieter, with only four rooms — two on each side — and a large open space in the center furnished like a sitting area.

"So, all four siblings' rooms are on the same floor?" she asked.

Nita smiled faintly. "Yes. Ishwari ma'am's room is on the ground floor, right in the middle of the living room."

"Oh," Aanya murmured, before turning and making her way upstairs.

The moment she pushed open the door to Jay's room, she stepped into what felt like another world.

A teenager's kingdom.

One corner held a large speaker set, and beside it, an elaborate gaming setup with multiple screens and controllers. The walls were alive with posters — the Avengers in heroic poses, famous footballers mid-kick, and a large hook where a football hung proudly.

The energy of the room was vibrant, young, untouched by the shadows that seemed to hang over the rest of the mansion.

And it reminded her — achingly — of home.

Of Ansh.

Her little brother's laughter. His messy room. His endless chatter about football scores. The way he would run into her room to tell her about a new movie or game.

Her throat tightened, eyes stinging.
I miss you, Ansh.
The words slipped out, barely a whisper.

She stood there for a long moment, blinking back tears until she could breathe again.

"It's okay, Aanya," she told herself quietly. "You'll see him soon. You'll see all of them soon. First... find the truth."

She remembered what Nita had said — Jay was nothing like Ishaan. Perhaps, unlike Jiya who had kept her distance, Jay might actually talk to her. Maybe... he could help her piece together the missing parts of this story.

"Let's hope," she murmured, pulling herself back to the present.

With that thought, she began her work — pulling off the old bedsheets, replacing them with fresh ones, letting the curtains fall in smooth folds, and wiping down the shelves. All the while, her mind kept racing, weaving between the past she'd left behind... and the truths she was determined to uncover.

she was halfway through cleaning Jay's room when something in the far corner caught her eye — a small tin of black paint, its lid missing, the smell faint but sharp. She picked it up carefully. It looked like the kind used for covering scratches on a bicycle or bike.

When she finished tidying the room, she gathered the dust and trash in a garbage bag, holding it in one hand, the paint tin in the other.

Downstairs, she dropped the garbage into the dustbin and walked into the kitchen.
"Nita aunty, I found this in Jay's room. It was open... I thought I should bring it down before it spilled. Where should I keep it?"

Nita glanced at the tin and nodded knowingly.
"Oh, that's from Jay's mini garage. He probably left it there by mistake. If you go out to the garden, there's a small counter in the corner — that's his garage. You'll see his bike and cycle parked there. Put it back there."

Aanya nodded and was about to leave when Nita stopped her.
"Beta, do one thing — help me finish this first, then put it away. I won't be free to do it later."

So Aanya set the tin aside and helped Nita with the kitchen work.

By the time everything was done, it was almost 1 p.m. The mansion felt quiet again, the air rich with the smell of freshly cooked dishes. Wiping her hands, Aanya picked up the tin and walked toward the main gate to head to the garden.

She had just reached for the gate handle when —

It swung open from the outside.

The sudden force startled her, and the paint tin slipped from her hand.

In the next moment — splat!

Black paint splashed across her face, dripping down her cheeks and neck, staining her clothes. It also scattered onto the man standing at the gate.

Ishaan.

He froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as droplets of paint streaked his face and ruined his shirt.

Before she could even breathe, a loud, dramatic scream came from behind him.

"Bhoot Bhoot!"

Aanya blinked through the paint, startled, as a young man — tall, lean, with boyish energy — appeared from behind Ishaan. It was Jay, Ishaan's younger brother.

Apparently, Ishaan had picked him up straight from the airport. And now, seeing Aanya's paint-covered face, Jay leapt onto Ishaan as if seeking protection from an actual ghost.

His arms wrapped tightly around Ishaan's neck. "Bhai! There's a ghost!" he cried, still clinging to him.

The ridiculousness of it all made Aanya let out an instinctive, "What?!" just as Jay's terrified shouting continued.

Ishaan caught Jay firmly, his jaw tense. His voice was low, cold — but it cut through the chaos like a blade.

"What the hell is this?"

Jay, still clutching him, shook his head. "No, bhai, I'm telling you — she's a ghost!"

"Jay, that's not a ghost. It's..." Ishaan's voice softened just slightly, "...Aanya. Now get down."

Jay shook his head furiously. "No, bhai, she's—"

"Jay! Get. Down."

This time, the firmness in Ishaan's voice made Jay obey instantly.

Aanya, still stunned, stammered out an apology.
"I'm sorry... so sorry, I didn't see—"

Before she could finish, Ishaan's voice snapped like a whip.
"Get the hell out of here."

The words hit her harder than the paint. Her throat tightened as hot tears began to mix with the black streaks running down her cheeks. Without another word, she turned and ran inside, disappearing into her room.

Jay frowned. "Bhai... it's okay. You didn't have to yell at her like that."

But Ishaan cut him off. "Go freshen up and come downstairs. Jiya will be here soon. We're having lunch together."

And with that, Ishaan walked away, heading toward his own room.

Jay sighed, watching his brother's retreating back.

Just then, Nita appeared from the hallway, smiling warmly. "Jay beta! You're home! Are you alright?"

Jay stepped forward to hug her — but Nita raised a hand, stopping him with a chuckle.
"No, no! You've got paint on you too. Go wash up first."

Jay looked down at his shirt, realizing the splatters, and scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed grin.
"Oops... sorry, aunty. I'll be right back."

And with that, he headed upstairs, leaving the kitchen smelling of food, and the air still heavy with the sting of Ishaan's voice.

Aanya didn't stop running until her door was shut behind her.

Her breath came in short, shaky bursts as she leaned against it, feeling the cool wood at her back. The silence in the room was deafening compared to the chaos at the gate just moments ago.

She could still hear his voice — sharp, cold, merciless.

"Get the hell out of here."

The words echoed, louder than they had been outside, cutting deeper now that no one else was watching.

She walked to the small mirror in her room, her hands trembling as she looked at her reflection.

Black paint streaked down her face in uneven trails, mixing with her tears until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. The stains on her clothes were just as bad, smudged across her arms and neck.

She let out a bitter laugh — a sound that wasn't really laughter at all.

"You've really done it this time, Aanya," she whispered to herself. "Ruined his clothes. Made a fool of yourself in front of his brother. And for what? An accident."

Her throat tightened. The more she tried to breathe evenly, the harder it became. She sat on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.

It wasn't just the humiliation. It was the way he looked at her — like she was a stain on his world that couldn't be scrubbed clean.

Her chest ached. Not from his anger, but from the reminder of where she stood in this house. She wasn't his wife here. She wasn't even family.

She was something less.

Wiping her face with the edge of her dupatta, she forced herself to stand and walked to the washbasin. The cold water hit her skin, stinging slightly as she scrubbed at the paint. But no matter how much she washed, it felt like his voice was still clinging to her — like the coldness in it had seeped under her skin.

When she finally looked up again, the paint was gone. But the redness in her eyes remained.

"You can't cry over this," she told herself firmly. "Not now. Not when you still have work to do... answers to find."

She exhaled slowly, pressing her palms flat against the counter until her breathing steadied.

And in that moment, she made herself a quiet promise — that no matter how much he tried to push her down, she wouldn't break. Not until she had uncovered the truth that chained her to this house.

The dining room smelled of freshly cooked spices and warm bread. Sunlight spilled in through the tall windows, glinting off the polished wood of the long dining table. Aanya moved quietly between the chairs, setting plates and arranging glasses alongside Nita and one of the remaining maids.

Her hands were steady, but inside, her thoughts drifted — to the black paint incident, to Ishaan's sharp words, and to the way her place in this house seemed to shrink with each passing day.

The clink of cutlery was broken by the sound of light footsteps on the marble floor.

Jiya entered, phone in hand, her gaze fixed on the glowing screen. Without looking up, she slid into a chair near the head of the table.

From behind her came a voice — full of energy and warmth.
"Jiya!"

She froze mid-scroll. That voice... she knew it instantly.

Her phone slipped from her hands and clattered onto the table as she spun around.

"Jay!" she gasped.

In the next instant, she was on her feet, running toward him.

The air between them closed in a heartbeat — her arms wrapping tightly around her twin brother's shoulders, his laughter spilling out as he hugged her back just as fiercely.

"I missed you so much," Jiya's voice cracked, though she tried to hide it with a smile.

"I missed you too, troublemaker," Jay teased, ruffling her hair like he always had.

For a moment, the mansion seemed lighter. Brighter. As if their reunion had pushed the shadows back, even if only for a little while.

They sat down together, still talking over one another, catching up like no time had passed at all.

From across the table, Aanya watched them, her lips curling into a faint smile. There was something beautiful in their bond — so natural, so unbreakable. She couldn't help but admire it.

But the warmth in the room shifted the moment Ishaan walked in.

His tall frame filled the doorway, his presence commanding as always. The hum of voices faltered, and for just a fraction of a second... his eyes met hers.

There was something there.
A flicker.
A shadow of something unspoken.

Regret?
Or nothing at all?

Neither of them could be sure.

Almost as quickly, they looked away — but not before Jay caught the subtle exchange. His eyes narrowed with quiet curiosity.

Turning to his brother, Jay asked lightly, "And... who's this? A friend of yours?"

Ishaan didn't hesitate. His voice was cool, almost dismissive.
"She's just a maid. Nothing else."

The words landed like a blade.

Aanya's chest tightened; it was as if invisible thorns had wrapped around her heart. She had accepted that their marriage was forced, that love was never part of the bargain — but hearing her own husband reduce her to just a maid in front of his family...

It was a different kind of pain.

She blinked quickly, willing the tears back, but one still threatened to spill.

Jay's gaze lingered on her, his thoughts unspoken. A maid? She doesn't look like one... Something didn't fit, and he knew it.

And then, without realizing why, Ishaan looked at her again.

Just a glance.

Enough to see the shimmer in her eyes — not from defiance, but from hurt. A hurt he had put there.

Something twisted in his chest. He didn't know what it was. He didn't want to know.

Before the moment could stretch any longer, Aanya stepped away from the table, her head bowed. Without a word, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the scent of food and the echo of unspoken truths behind her.