Passionate Obsession

Shattered Hopes and an unknown House

With a heart full of shattered hopes, restless pain, and silent despair, Aru stepped inside the house. Just then, an unexpected slap froze her feet in place — five firm fingers left a burning imprint on her soft, fair cheek. Blood pooled beneath the skin, turning it a purplish shade within seconds.

Her cheek burned painfully, but Aru barely noticed. Her mind was drowning in a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying one question over and over again:

— What have I done?

She didn’t even register Anu’s anger, the way her sister stood there fuming, trembling with rage. Aru, clutching her stinging cheek, stared at her with tearful eyes.

— What have I done? Why did you hit me like that? Was I born just to be beaten?

Anu ground her teeth, voice sharp:

— Who else would hit you except me?

Aru wanted to say, Who else? The young master of this house, of course. Back home, morning and night, he would strike her without reason. But she bit back the thought and said instead:

— Why do you hit me without a reason? You never show love without a reason either — always scolding, always harsh. Am I your stepsister or something?

Her words were like fuel to the fire. Anu’s temper rose even higher as she hissed:

— Stop your nonsense, Aru. Tell me something — do you even care about Mother at all? You don’t, do you?

— Why are you saying that, Apa?

— Because you’re a fool. And I trusted you with something very important.

— What have I done? Please just tell me! Aru shouted, on the verge of tears.

Anu marched to the table, grabbed a laptop, and thrust it into Aru’s hands.

— See for yourself.

On the screen floated a string of new emails, all from America. Aru’s tear-soaked eyes sparkled with a sudden glimmer of joy.

— Apa, the company wrote back! They’re taking Mother to the U.S. for advanced treatment. This is wonderful news!

Anu sighed heavily, her voice still trembling with anger:

— Yes, it’s good news. But that email came a month ago. They already sent visas and tickets. The flight is this week. If I hadn’t checked the inbox out of curiosity today, we would have missed it all. You’ve been sending emails like a robot but never checking the inbox — if I’d found it a week later, what would have happened to Mother then?

Aru flinched at the roar of Anu’s voice. She had nothing to say. At first she used to check the inbox daily, but months of disappointment had made her give up. She never imagined something like this would happen.

Scrolling to the end of the email, she noticed a name:

Mr. Pratyay Ehsan

CFO

JK Group of Industries.

She whispered the name aloud.

— Pratyay Ehsan… Apa, who is he?

Anu shrugged.

— Probably some company official.

Aru found one more ticket bearing her own name.

— They’ve sent a ticket for me too!

— You didn’t have to go, Anu muttered.

— What are you saying, Apa? You’re all going so far away and I’ll stay alone in Kritic Kunj? Ghosts would eat me alive! Aru protested.

Anu rolled her eyes but said nothing. She had her reasons.

Finally Anu softened and kissed Aru’s forehead.

— Sorry, Sona. I just panicked thinking what could’ve happened if I hadn’t checked the mail in time.

Aru lowered her head.

— It’s my fault. Please forgive me.

— I will, but on one condition.

— What condition?

— Right now you’re coming shopping with me. We have so much to buy. The flight is this week.

Aru laughed, hugging Anu tightly.

— I love shopping! It’s been ages since I’ve smelled new clothes.

Then, half to herself:

— This time I’ll find Nikhil Bhai for sure.

---

Sunday evening.

Sunlight slanted across the terrace of Kritic Kunj. Clothes flapped in the southern breeze. Aru sat on the moss-covered railing, her knees brushing the dusty floor, her long hair falling forward. They had already put their mother on the emergency flight. Their own flight was at night. In a few hours this palace-like home would be empty.

She whispered to herself:

— I’m coming, Nikhil Bhai. I’ll find you.

Anu’s shout broke her daydream:

— Hurry up, Aru! We’re leaving for the airport.

---

Time flies — yes it does.

Only twenty-four hours ago Aru was standing on Kritic Kunj’s terrace. Now she was shivering in a thick leather jacket as the cold American air lashed against her. The car sent by the company drove them out of San Francisco, past lonely highways, Walmart stores, and windmills. Aru watched in awe.

After a long drive, the car stopped before a small duplex house. Aru’s stomach fluttered with nervousness. Anu urged her to hurry, but her phone rang — an emergency at the hospital. She had to leave immediately with all the documents.

— Use the passcode to get inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can, Anu said.

— Apa, I’m scared. What if someone’s inside?

— There’s no one. Just go in. Don’t do anything stupid, Anu replied and left.

Heart pounding, Aru stepped into the unfamiliar house. Inside was modern and sparse — a wide living room merging with a sleek kitchen counter, high stools, a glass wall. A huge black helmet sat on the divan beside an enormous monitor.

She muttered to herself:

— Boring. If it were mine, I’d decorate it properly.

Exhaustion overwhelmed her. She climbed upstairs, changed into a T-shirt and palazzo, and collapsed into the soft bed.

---

“Aru… Aru…”

Through her heavy sleep she heard a voice calling. She mumbled back,

— Let me sleep, Apa. This bed is so soft. The pillow smells like sandalwood…

But Anu’s voice trembled with urgency:

— Wake up, Aru. This isn’t your room. You’re not in Bangladesh anymore. We arrived in America last evening. Right now you’re sleeping in someone else’s room.

The words struck Aru like a thunderclap. She shot upright, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth.

— Whose room?!

Anu’s eyes flicked toward the doorway. Aru followed her gaze. Standing there in a white long-sleeve T-shirt and black trousers was a tall, strikingly familiar man — Zayan Kritic Chowdhury himself.

Her head spun. What had she done? She’d been sleeping in his bed. His eyes were cold, unreadable, cutting through her like a blade. Fearfully, she gulped.

— Come on, our room is on the other side, Anu whispered urgently, tugging her away.

As they slipped out, Aru glanced back one last time. Their eyes met — his mysterious, piercing gaze locked onto hers. Her heart jolted. She quickly followed Anu to the other room, biting her nails.

Left alone, Zayan entered his room, his foot catching on discarded clothes on the floor. On the pillow lay a single long hair, still damp with her scent. Picking it up, he frowned.

— When did it get this long?