Author's POV
The journey from the station to the mansion was quiet, but the silence wasn't heavy. It was the kind of silence that settles in new places—when the mind is trying to absorb everything at once. Sheerghat was smaller than any city they had been to, but it felt old in a way that time didn't erase. Trees lined both sides of the narrow road, tall and dense, their branches curving together above like they were forming a natural archway. The air carried that freshness which only comes from untouched land. When the car stopped, the view in front of them didn't feel real at first.
The mansion was an old haveli restored beautifully. Tall carved pillars stood like silent guardians. The entrance had intricate floral designs etched deep into the wood. The courtyard inside was open to the sky, where sunlight fell perfectly in the center, forming a pool of warm gold on the floor. It was quiet—not dead quiet—but a living quiet. As if the house had seen generations come and go, and had learned to speak only when spoken to.
Kartikya walked ahead without saying much, as though he expected them to follow—and they did.
Aravali's POV
The moment I walked in, I forgot how to breathe. It looked like one of those heritage mansions you only see in historical documentaries or royal family interviews. Everything was… warm. Not intimidating, not eerie. Just deeply, reassuringly old. The kind of old that holds stories instead of secrets.
And there he was—walking with that calm pace of his. Not slow in a lazy way, just… deliberate. Like time moved at his speed, not the other way around. He stopped near the center of the courtyard and turned slightly, just enough to address us without fully facing us.
"This will be your home for the duration of your stay," he said, tone steady, posture straight.
Shiva leaned towards me and whispered loudly, "He talks like a government circular."
I almost choked. I would have laughed, but unfortunately my brain was too busy processing the fact that this man looked exactly—exactly—like the type I always fall for. Long, slightly curly hair, brown eyes, that quiet confidence… Great. Amazing. Fantastic. I am doomed.
Iaa's POV
The place felt… familiar. Which made no sense, because I had never been here in my life. But something in the air felt like memory—not mine, but someone's in our bloodline. The sunlight in the courtyard hit the tiles at the same angle the old sigil in the diary did. My hand felt warm for a second, like the light recognized me.
Kartikya didn't say much. Actually, he barely spoke at all unless necessary. He showed us the rooms along the corridor—each one glowing with soft yellow light, lace curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze, everything arranged like someone cared. Sita and I exchanged a look of relief. After everything we had been through, a place that didn't feel threatening was a blessing.
Once we stepped inside our shared room, we didn't talk at first. We just sat. And then, from the next room over, we heard—
Sita's POV
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I jumped so hard my soul left my body. Iaa nearly fell off the bed.
We rushed into Aravali's room and found her lying face-down on the bed, dramatically kicking her legs. Shiva stood next to her with her arms crossed.
"She has found her type and is now malfunctioning," Shiva reported, like she was filing a complaint with HR.
Aravali rolled over just enough to glare at us, cheeks red."I—It's nothing. I am NORMAL. I'm just— appreciating aesthetics!"
"Yes. The aesthetics of his face." Shiva replied.
I snorted. Iaa covered her mouth. Aravali threw a pillow at Shiva. It was chaos. It was home.
Author's POV
Evening came slowly. Lamps were lit around the courtyard, casting warm golden halos against the stone walls. The wind moved softly, carrying a faint scent of jasmine from the garden. Dinner was served at a long wooden table near the central hall—simple, comforting food that tasted like care rather than effort.
There wasn't much talking. Not because anyone was uncomfortable, but because the day had been long and full. Kartikya sat at the head of the table, posture still straight, movements minimal but precise—like someone who had learned to speak more through presence than words.
After dinner, he placed a small wooden box in front of Sita."For the necklace," he said.
Sita nodded without speaking. She understood. Everyone did.
The night settled softly. Curtains swayed. Doors closed. And for the first time in a long time, the girls slept without fear.
The mansion did not feel haunted.It felt like it was watching over them.
Like it knew they had come home to a story that started long before they were born.