Chapter 2 – The House of Chaos and Light

If Rehan Sehgal’s world was made of silence and steel, Jen Shah’s world was built on laughter, warmth, and a little too much glitter.

The Shah sisters’ home was small, but it had a soul. A sunlit apartment on the top floor of an old building, filled with mismatched cushions, cracked flowerpots, scented candles, half-finished paintings—and love in every corner.

“Shin, stop feeding toast to the dog!” Jen yelled from the kitchen.

“I’m not! He stole it!” Shin replied with a mouthful of jam, clearly lying, as she sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling while their neighbor’s golden retriever licked jam off her fingers.

Jen rolled her eyes, flipping the last paratha onto a plate.

In the living room, Jisha, the second eldest, sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through her economics notes while sipping chai. She looked up with a half-smile. “You know she bribed that dog with sausage yesterday, right?”

“I’m building trust,” Shin said proudly, “for when I need him to save me from burglars.”

Lyra, the youngest, peeked out from behind her sketchpad. Her big eyes were still sleepy, but her pencil flew across the page, capturing the morning chaos with quiet grace.

Jen placed plates on the table. “Eat first. Then be weird.”

As they gathered, the routine was familiar: Jisha keeping an eye on Shin, Shin being chaos wrapped in sunshine, Lyra barely speaking but always listening, and Jen — making sure everyone ate, laughed, and lived.

They were four pieces of a puzzle no one else understood. No parents. No extended family. Just each other. And somehow, that had always been enough.

“By the way,” Jisha said between bites, “how was the gala last night?”

Jen hesitated.

“Ohhh,” Shin gasped dramatically. “Did you meet any hot rich guys? Like the ones in your romance books?”

“I met a brick wall in a suit,” Jen replied, sipping her tea. “Named Rehan Sehgal.”

Jisha paused. “The Rehan Sehgal?”

“The one and only. Cold as the North Pole. Told me my art was messy.”

Shin gasped again. “You didn’t slap him? I would’ve slapped him with a paintbrush.”

“He’s not worth the brush,” Jen muttered. “Anyway, he’s just a businessman. Probably doesn’t even know how to smile.”

But something about him stuck. Not his rudeness—but the way he had stared at her painting like he was looking at a language he didn’t know how to speak.

Jisha studied Jen’s face. “You’re thinking about him.”

“I’m thinking about how someone can live without any warmth,” Jen said. “It’s sad.”

“Maybe no one ever gave him any,” Lyra whispered, barely audible.

Everyone paused.

Then Shin stood up and announced, “I will personally assign him a nickname. Like… Ice Man.”

“No,” Jisha said. “That’s copyrighted.”

“How about Cold Cuts?”

“Shin, sit down.”

Jen laughed despite herself.

This was their world. Unpolished, loud, soft, honest.

And unknown to her, that very morning, Rehan Sehgal was staring out the window of his high-rise again—still hearing her voice in his head.

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