Chapter 6 — The Unwanted Guest
1617 Words
The sun was dipping low over Los Angeles, casting a golden hue across the quiet upscale neighborhood of Bel Air, where the Mehra Mansion stood tall and timeless — an elegant fusion of Indian heritage and Californian luxury. The grand villa with its pristine white pillars and arched windows reflected the old-world charm Aryan’s grandmother, Maya Mehra, loved to preserve.
Aryan Mehra pulled up in front of the house on his sleek Ducati, the roar of the engine echoing briefly before dying into the calm of dusk. His helmet came off with a flick, revealing his sharp, slightly rugged features — the kind that carried confidence by default. He parked, ran a quick hand through his hair, and headed toward the entrance.
He had been restless all day. Ever since dropping Rhea Malhotra at St. Martin’s that morning, a strange unease had followed him — like a shadow that refused to disappear. He did not understand it. He was not the kind of guy who worried about anyone, especially not some girl he barely knew. But the tightness in his chest since then said otherwise.
The moment he stepped into the mansion, that unease turned into full-blown irritation.
Standing right in the middle of the living room — all pastel sundress and nervous glances — was Rhea.
Aryan froze. His jaw clenched. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice echoing off the marble floor.
Rhea flinched, clearly not expecting to see him either. “You… you live here?” she asked in disbelief, her eyes wide.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, tossing his keys onto the console. “You followed me home now? What’s next, calling the cops on me again?”
Her brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? I did not—”
Before she could finish, Sonia Mehra, Aryan’s mother, appeared from the adjoining hallway, her smile warm and welcoming. “Rhea, sweetheart! You found the house easily?”
Then her gaze shifted to Aryan. “Oh, Aryan — home early for a change. That’s a miracle.”
“Leave the sarcasm, Mom,” he said, eyes never leaving Rhea. “But maybe you could explain why she is here?”
Sonia laughed softly, clearly amused by his dramatic tone. “She is Jay Malhotra’s daughter. You remember Mr. Malhotra — your father’s old friend from business school?”
Aryan frowned. “And she is here because...?”
Before Sonia could answer, the firm but affectionate voice of Maya came from the staircase. “If you ever showed up to family events, you would know who our friends are, Aryan.” She descended gracefully, wearing a simple silk shawl, her eyes twinkling with quiet wisdom. “But no — our young man is always too busy in his own world.”
Aryan exhaled through gritted teeth. “That is not the point, Grandma. Why is she living here?”
Maya settled onto the sofa with a knowing smile. “She will be here till she finishes her semester. Her father is overseas on business, and we are her only family here. Simple as that.”
Aryan’s reaction was immediate. “What? You have got to be kidding me!”
Rhea looked as startled as he sounded. “Wait — I’m staying here?” she asked, turning to Sonia.
“Yes, dear,” Sonia said kindly. “Just for a few months. We have plenty of space, and mom insisted.” She glanced at Maya.
Aryan threw his hands up. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. First she gets me in trouble at college, now she is moving in.”
Rhea frowned, stepping forward. “That was a misunderstanding! I did not know it was you those girls were talking about—”
“Oh please,” he cut in sharply. “Spare me the apology act.”
Dadi intervened gently. “What misunderstanding?”
Rhea took a small breath and explained, “This morning, a few guys were teasing some girls near the library. They pointed someone out to me, and I… accidentally thought it was Aryan. I told the Dean, and well…”
Sonia and Maya exchanged amused looks before bursting into soft laughter.
“Rhea, you did the right thing,” Sonia said between chuckles. “And Aryan — do not act like this is the first complaint your teachers ever made about you.”
“Mom,” he groaned.
“Do you want me to remind you of how many times your dad had to visit your school because of your antics?” Sonia teased, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
Rhea tried to hide a smile, but Aryan caught it — and that just fueled his irritation further. Without another word, he turned and stomped toward his room upstairs.
Sonia placed a gentle hand on Rhea’s shoulder. “Please do not mind him, dear. That is just how he is.”
Rhea smiled faintly. “It’s okay, Sonia aunty. You have told me enough stories about Aryan. Guess now I get to see the legend in person.”
Sonia laughed. “Exactly! Now go freshen up — your room is the one next to Aryan’s.”
Rhea nodded and walked down the hall, her heart still fluttering from the strange tension between them.
Later That Night
The house was quiet, bathed in the warm glow of evening lamps. Rhea sat with Sonia and Maya in the living room after dinner, chatting about her internship and Los Angeles traffic. Just then, Aryan walked in, phone in hand, the glow from the screen lighting up his serious face.
“Dinner?” Sonia asked, already knowing the answer.
“Had it out,” he replied absently.
Sonia sighed. “Of course.”
Before he could head upstairs, she added, “Oh Aryan, can you check the light in Rhea’s room? It keeps flickering.”
He turned, incredulous. “Mom, I’m not an electrician.”
“It is probably just a loose bulb,” she reasoned. “It will not take much time to fix.”
“Seriously?”
Maya looked up from her knitting. “Go on, son. It is late, no electrician will come now.”
Grumbling, Aryan shoved his phone into his pocket and stalked off toward Rhea’s room.
Sonia smiled knowingly at Rhea. “Go help him, dear. He will just pretend to know what he is doing.”
Rhea followed reluctantly.
Inside her room, Aryan found the light perfectly fine. “There is nothing wrong here,” he muttered, turning to leave — only to bump directly into Rhea, who had just stepped inside.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, rubbing her forehead.
“Can’t you see where you are going?” he snapped.
“Excuse me? You walked into me!” she retorted, indignant.
Aryan huffed. “This is a waste of time. Everything is fine—”
“Not that light,” Rhea said, pointing toward a dimmer lamp across the room.
He groaned. “You need two? What, the first one does not flatter you enough?”
“It is too bright. I can’t sleep like that.”
“Then turn it off.”
“I can’t sleep in the dark either.”
He blinked. “Unbelievable. So what, you are like… a princess with lighting preferences now?”
Her lips curved into a small pout. “Maybe.”
Aryan ran a hand over his face. “You know what? Forget it.”
“Fine! I will fix it myself,” she shot back.
He rolled his eyes and grabbed a stool. “Move,” he said curtly.
As he adjusted the bulb, Rhea suddenly switched off the main light. The room fell into soft amber glow from the bedside lamp.
“Now it is perfect,” she said softly, surveying the space.
Aryan looked down at her — her face half-lit, her eyes wide with innocent satisfaction. Something in his chest shifted, something unfamiliar.
“Can I get down now, or do you want mood lighting too?” he said sarcastically, trying to deflect the sudden tension.
But before he could step off, the stool wobbled. He lost his balance.
Rhea instinctively reached out to catch him — but he was heavier, and they both fell backward onto the bed.
The world went still.
Rhea’s fingers gripped his shirt tightly, his arm instinctively wrapping around her waist to steady them both. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling in the soft light. Her heart pounded so loudly it almost echoed.
Aryan blinked, realizing just how close they were — her lashes brushing his cheek, her lips barely an inch from his.
Neither spoke. The silence was electric.
He found himself studying her face — the way her nose crinkled slightly when she breathed, the faint trace of a smile on her lips, the small birthmark near her brow that made her look impossibly real.
And she, lost in his gaze, saw something she had not before — the hint of softness beneath his arrogance.
Then reason crashed in.
“What the hell am I doing?” Aryan muttered under his breath and quickly pulled away, standing up faster than he meant to.
Rhea sat up, cheeks burning. “I— I am sorry,” she stammered.
He did not reply. He just turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Rhea sat there, clutching her pillow, heart racing. She could not explain what had just happened — or why her pulse still refused to calm.
For the first time since moving in, she realized that living under the same roof as Aryan Mehra might be far more complicated than she had imagined.
- Writer
