Chapter 3: Fireplaces and Eyebrows

Sanvee woke up to the smell of cardamom and coffee. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until she opened her eyes and saw the carved ceiling above her. Right. Raizada Mansion.

The place where luxury had its own zip code and even the walls whispered old money.

She got out of bed and pulled on a light sweater. It was chilly, even though the sun had been out since morning. As she walked down the hall, she heard soft laughter echoing through the corridor.

In the main living room, a fire crackled in a massive stone fireplace. The cousins were all there—curled up on couches, sipping coffee, and playfully arguing over which movie to watch that evening.

Aarohi spotted her first. “Look who finally woke up! We thought you got lost in the walk-in wardrobe.”

Vivaan grinned. “Or maybe she found Aarav’s secret room full of spreadsheets and stock charts.”

“I value my sanity,” Sanvee replied, sinking into a chair near Meher.

“Good call,” Meher nodded. “His room probably smells like Wi-Fi and emotional trauma.”

Laughter broke out, and Sanvee found herself relaxing. These people—rich, dramatic, over-the-top—they still felt more like family than anyone else ever had.

Aarav entered the room exactly five minutes later. Of course he did. Like a character who only shows up once everyone else has settled.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Rehaan asked, not even looking up from his laptop.

“I do work,” Aarav replied. “I just don’t feel the need to announce it with every breath.”

“Wow, so humble,” Ishaan muttered. “Aarav Raizada, CEO, billionaire, part-time sunset mood.”

Aarav ignored them. His eyes found Sanvee instantly.

“You’re up,” he said.

“Gold star for observation,” she replied, sipping her coffee.

There was a slight curve at the corner of his mouth. Just for a second. Then it disappeared.

Later that day, Aanya dragged Sanvee to the art room—a sunlit space at the far end of the mansion with easels, untouched paint sets, and floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I told Ma you’re a painter,” Aanya said. “She insisted you have this space while you’re here.”

Sanvee blinked. “Wait, this is just... here? Empty?”

“Unused for years,” Aanya shrugged. “I think she kept it closed since that friend moved away.”

Sanvee felt a tug in her chest again. She looked around. The room had that same silence her old orphanage classroom used to carry—the kind that made you feel like the past was still standing around in the corners.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly.

“Then don’t,” Aanya smiled. “Just paint.”

And she did.

That evening, Aarav found her there—alone, in front of a half-finished canvas.

“You’re good,” he said, eyes on her sketch.

Sanvee turned, a little surprised. “You sure that wasn’t meant to be a spreadsheet compliment?”

Aarav smirked. “Funny.”

She put the pencil down and faced him. “You always show up at weird moments. Do you lurk?”

“No. I observe,” he said calmly. “There’s a difference.”

“You also stare. A lot.”

“That’s because most people don’t surprise me. You do.”

For a second, Sanvee didn’t know what to say. Aarav’s voice wasn’t teasing—it was honest. Unfiltered.

“Most people treat me like a background character,” she said, looking away. “You don’t.”

“That’s because you’re not.”

Their eyes met. The room felt still. Warmer. Like the fire in the fireplace from earlier had followed them here.

Then Aarav looked away. “Dinner’s in ten. Don’t let the soup get cold.”

And just like that, he was gone again.

Dinner that night was quieter. Priya Raizada sat beside Sanvee and asked her about painting. Not in a fake, polite way—but like she genuinely cared.

“You remind me so much of someone I knew,” she said gently. “Same spark in the eyes. Same honesty.”

Sanvee smiled, unsure what to say. That line again.

She was starting to wonder if this “friend” even existed—or if Priya was just seeing something else.

Later that night, Sanvee stood out on the balcony, wrapped in a shawl, looking out at the moonlit lake. Her sketchbook sat beside her, open to a new page.

She drew a girl sitting in a sunlit room… and a boy standing at the doorway, watching her like she was the first real thing he’d seen in a long time.

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