The Stranger’s House

The Raichand penthouse was nothing like a home.

It loomed over the Delhi skyline like a silent fortress of glass and steel, its windows reflecting the evening lights of the city. Anaya stood at the entrance, her bridal veil still draped over her shoulders, clutching it as if it were the only familiar thing she had left.

Inside, the silence was suffocating. There were no flowers, no family chatter, no rituals to mark her first night as a bride. Only the echo of her own footsteps on the marble floors.

Aarav didn’t slow down, didn’t look at her. His long strides carried him through the wide hallway, his presence as cold as the air-conditioned walls around them. He stopped only when they reached a door at the far end.

“This is your room,” he said flatly, pushing it open.

Your room. Not ours.

Anaya stepped inside cautiously. The bedroom was enormous — larger than her entire college flat. A king-sized bed sat in the center, the sheets perfectly tucked. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering city below. The closet doors stood open, revealing rows of designer lehengas, sarees, and gowns already arranged by size.

Everything was perfect. Immaculate. Soulless.

She turned sharply. “So that’s it? A contract, a room, and silence? Am I supposed to thank you for this arrangement?”

Aarav leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable. “You don’t need to thank me. You just need to remember your role.”

Her chest tightened. “And what exactly is my role?”

His gaze was unflinching, sharp enough to cut. “Be the Raichand wife in public. Keep quiet in private. That’s all.”

Her fists curled at her sides. “And you? What’s your role in this farce?”

For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes — a shadow, a weight, a memory perhaps. Then it was gone, replaced by that same cold detachment.

“My role,” he said slowly, “is to protect what’s mine. Don’t test me, Anaya.”

The way he said her name — low, warning, almost dangerous — sent a shiver through her.

Before she could retort, his phone rang. He answered immediately, his tone clipped, professional, ruthless. Without another word, he left the room, the sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Silence swallowed her again.

Anaya sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the sparkling city lights beyond the glass. This wasn’t marriage. This wasn’t love. This was a cage — only gilded, not iron.

She pressed her palms against her knees, steadying her breath. You chose this for them, she reminded herself. For Ma. For Papa. For the company. You’ll survive this.

But as her eyes drifted to the closet, something unusual caught her attention.

Behind the neat row of gowns and saris was a narrow line in the wall — a seam. Almost invisible.

A door.

Her heart skipped. Why would a bedroom have a hidden door?

Curiosity clawed at her. Slowly, cautiously, she reached for the handle and pushed.

The door creaked open an inch.

Her breath hitched.

On the other side was something that made her gasp aloud.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***