Chapter 7 - The Forgotten Ride
1803 Words
The soft rays of early morning sunlight filtered through the white curtains of the Mehra residence in Bel Air, spilling warmth across the elegant guest room. Rhea Malhotra stirred restlessly in bed, rubbing her eyes. She had not slept well.
Being in a new place — an unfamiliar house, a different city, a new rhythm — had unsettled her. But more than that, what truly kept her awake was the memory of last night — that moment of unexpected closeness with Aryan Mehra.
She sighed and sat up, brushing her hair back. Why does my heart do this weird thing every time I think about him? she thought, irritated with herself.
Pushing away the confusion, Rhea finally got up and went to freshen up. When she came downstairs, the dining area smelled of fresh pancakes, coffee, and jasmine — the scent that always lingered wherever Sonia Mehra went.
At the long marble dining table sat Raj Mehra, Sonia, and Maya, already enjoying breakfast. The morning sunlight illuminated the family’s warmth — an unspoken comfort in this otherwise immaculate mansion.
“Good morning, Rhea,” Sonia greeted warmly as Rhea approached.
“Morning,” Rhea smiled politely and took a seat.
“Rhea, I hope everything is comfortable for you here,” Raj asked, setting down his cup of green tea.
“Yes, Uncle, all good,” she replied genuinely.
Maya chuckled softly. “Of course it is. Anyway, she will have to get used to this house — it is going to be her’s soon enough.”
Rhea blinked in confusion but smiled uncertainly. “Yes, Grandma,” she said, unsure what exactly that meant but too polite to ask.
And then, as if summoned by thought, Aryan Mehra appeared.
He was descending the staircase, adjusting his wristwatch — crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair still slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly confident, even this early in the morning.
The moment Rhea saw him, her breath caught. Their eyes met, and for a second, everything else faded — the chatter, the clinking of cups, even the faint hum of the AC. Both instantly remembered the closeness of the night before.
Sonia’s voice broke the moment. “Aryan! Come have breakfast before you leave!”
He blinked, looking away quickly. “Yeah, coming, Mom.”
He took his seat across from Rhea. Neither dared to look at the other. Each was silently scolding themselves for replaying last night’s moment in their heads.
Raj folded his newspaper and looked at Aryan. “You are heading to campus, right?”
“Yes, dad,” Aryan said, finishing the last bite of toast.
“Good. Take Rhea along with you,” Raj said casually.
Aryan froze mid-sip. “What? Why?”
Raj gave him a knowing look. “Because she is new to the city. It will be easier for her if you both go together. And not just today — every day. That’s one reason we enrolled her in the same university.”
Aryan frowned, clearly displeased. “Dad, she is not a kid. She can handle herself.”
“She is our guest,” Raj countered firmly. “And if you do not take her, you can start taking the bus from now onwards.”
Aryan’s mouth dropped slightly. “The bus? You have got to be kidding me.”
Maya smiled into her cup of coffee. Sonia hid her grin behind her napkin.
Aryan sighed, defeated. “Fine.” He glanced at Rhea. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Rhea, half amused and half nervous, got up quickly. “Bye, aunty, bye grandma!” she said, giving a polite smile before following him out.
“Take care, dear,” Raj said warmly, patting her head — the gesture of a man who had come to care for her like a daughter.
“I will,” Rhea said softly before stepping outside.
In the driveway, Aryan stood beside his black Ducati, the morning sun glinting off its metallic surface.
Her eyes widened. “Wait—are we going on that?”
He looked at her with mock seriousness. “No, I was planning to call a private jet. You want aisle or window?”
Rhea glared. “Very funny. I’m serious, Aryan. I’ve never been on a bike before. Can’t we take the car?”
He gave her an exaggerated look of disbelief. “You’re scared of my bike?”
“Not scared, just... cautious,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “Please?”
Her voice softened, her eyes pleading in the most adorably helpless way. For a moment, Aryan’s frustration melted.
He sighed. “You really do give orders like a princess, you know that?”
She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Muttering under his breath, Aryan walked toward his sleek black BMW instead. Rhea followed, trying not to laugh.
He opened the driver’s door while she went for the back seat.
“Excuse me?” he said, arching a brow. “I’m not your chauffeur. Sit in the front.”
She shot him a glare but complied, sitting beside him with the expression of a sulky child.
The drive to St. Martin's was quiet. The tension between them filled the car like static. Neither spoke; the radio hummed softly in the background as palm trees blurred past outside.
When they arrived, Aryan parked near the east wing. He stepped out without a word, joining his group of friends — Dhruv, Nitin, and Ruhi — who were already waiting near the fountain.
They all froze when they saw Rhea getting out of his car.
Tina whispered, “Wait, did Aryan just drop her off?”
Aryan noticed their faces and quickly said, “Before you guys start—she’s my dad’s friend’s daughter, staying with us. That’s all.”
His friends exchanged mischievous looks but didn’t say anything.
Just then, Rhea approached, her voice hesitant but clear. “Um… Aryan?”
He turned, looking mildly annoyed.
“I—uh… just wanted to say sorry. For yesterday. I got you in trouble in front of your friends, and that wasn’t fair. So, I’m saying it here… in front of them. Sorry. Can you forgive me now?”
Aryan blinked, thrown off by her sincerity. “Uh… it’s okay,” he mumbled, trying to sound unaffected.
Her smile widened, radiant and innocent.
“Okay then. Bye!” she said quickly and walked away before he could respond further.
Aryan stood there for a moment, watching her go, before his friends broke into grins.
“‘Just staying at your house,’ huh?” Dhruv teased.
“Shut up,” Aryan muttered, heading toward class.
That evening, after classes ended, Aryan and his friends hung out at their usual coffee spot two blocks from campus. They joked, teased, and talked — until Aryan suddenly checked his watch and froze.
“Oh, crap,” he muttered, slapping his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Nitin asked.
“I—uh… I have to go!” he blurted and dashed out, leaving his confused friends behind.
Racing back toward the campus parking lot, he found the main gates locked. Panic began to rise in his chest.
“Hey! Anyone inside?” he shouted toward the security guard.
“No one’s here,” the guard replied lazily. “Everyone left hours ago.”
Aryan’s heart sank. “Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. I forgot her.
He had completely forgotten to pick Rhea up. She was new to the city — she didn’t even know the address!
After circling the nearby streets twice, he finally gave up, anxiety clawing at his stomach.
“Where the hell are you, Rhea?” he muttered under his breath, leaning against his car with his palms pressed to his eyes.
He whispered a silent prayer — something he hadn’t done in years — and finally drove home, unsure of how to face his family.
Inside the house, Sonia was sitting on the living room sofa, reading the Los Angeles Times.
“God, please save me,” Aryan murmured under his breath before walking in.
“Mom…” he started hesitantly.
Sonia looked up. “Yes, Aryan?”
Before he could continue, a familiar voice called from behind. “Aunty, I have kept the oil bowl in your room.”
Rhea emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
Aryan froze in place. Relief flooded through him — sharp, overwhelming, almost dizzying. She was safe.
He exhaled heavily, eyes closing for a second as the tension drained from his shoulders.
Sonia spoke casually, unaware of his inner panic. “By the way, Aryan, next time if you have extra classes, at least let us know. Good thing Rhea called, or she would have been waiting for hours. We sent the driver to get her.”
Aryan blinked. She called home instead of me?
He just nodded awkwardly and went upstairs.
As Rhea reached her room, he followed. “Rhea,” he called softly.
She turned, surprised — it was the first time he had ever said her name out loud.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, his tone softer than usual. “You know how worried I was?”
She tilted her head. “I do not have your number.”
He paused, feeling dumb. “Right.”
“Hmm?” she teased. “Apologizing for not giving it to me?”
He gave her a glare, but she only smiled.
“Thanks,” he said finally.
“For what?”
“For not telling my mom about it,” he said sincerely. “You could’ve made me look bad.”
Her expression softened. “I’m not that mean.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to still be here when I walked in. I thought you’d have complained about me like a school kid.”
Her eyes widened in mock anger. “Excuse me?”
Ignoring her glare, he took her phone gently from her hand, typed his number in, and called his own phone.
“There. You have my number now. If something like this happens again, call me, not the house.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So… you’re saying you’ll forget me again?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Go eat some almonds, you forgetful i***t,” she muttered, glaring at him before disappearing into her room.
Aryan smiled faintly, shaking his head, then walked to his own room.
As he sat on the couch, he looked down at his phone — at the new contact name that now read Rhea Malhotra.
A small smile tugged at his lips. For reasons he couldn’t quite name, the sight of that name made the world feel a little lighter.
- Writer
