CHAPTER EIGHTEEN : WHAT IF HE FOUND IT?
The low hum of the engine filled the car, blending with the faint sounds of city life outside — horns, laughter, and the whisper of the evening breeze. The orange hue of the setting sun spilled through the windshield, casting a golden glow over Aryan’s sharp jawline and Priya’s delicate face.
Aryan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles paling as his thoughts swirled. He glanced sideways at her — the woman sitting quietly beside him, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, pretending to admire the sunset.
“Riya,” he began, his voice calm but edged with unease, “can you tell me what truth he was talking about?”
Priya’s pulse quickened, but she forced a small, casual smile. Turning slightly toward him, she replied, “I also don’t know what he was talking about.” Her tone was light — too light. But her eyes betrayed her; they flickered away too quickly, landing on the passing city lights outside the window.
Aryan’s brow furrowed. The faintest crease appeared between his brows as he said, “If it’s not like that, then… what was the need for him to say that?” His tone grew heavier — not angry, but probing, trying to find a truth that refused to surface.
Riya turned her head back toward him. Her face softened, eyes big and glassy under the golden light. “I don’t know,” she murmured again, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. She tilted her head, giving him that innocent, almost childlike look that always melted him.
Aryan sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of frustration. The sound of his breath filled the space between them. “I don’t know which one of you is telling the truth,” he said quietly, his tone caught between doubt and exhaustion.
Her expression faltered. “So you mean you don’t trust me?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, as if the words themselves hurt to say.
His jaw tightened. “When did I say that?” he snapped, his voice rising involuntarily — frustration spilling out like water from a cracked dam.
Riya’s eyes flashed — confusion and hurt mixing into one. “Then what do you want to say?” she asked, turning fully to face him now. The air inside the car felt thick, charged with emotions neither could control.
Suddenly, Aryan pulled the car to the side of the road. The engine idled softly as he turned toward her, his face unreadable at first. Then his tone changed — softer, steady.
“I don’t know anything about your life,” he said quietly, “except your name. But…” His words faltered as he reached out, taking her hands gently in his. His touch was warm — hesitant, yet full of emotion. “But still, I believe in you. And I want you to keep one thing in mind — never do anything that’ll affect our relationship, because… now I don’t want to lose you.”
Riya blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “Lose… me…” she repeated slowly, the words barely a whisper, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Aryan looked straight into her eyes — the kind of gaze that strips away all pretense. “Hmm,” he said softly. Then, with a breath that carried both courage and vulnerability, he confessed, “I don’t know how you’ll feel after hearing this, but… Riya, I love you.”
The world seemed to still. The noise of traffic faded into a distant hum.
Riya’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Her cheeks turned crimson, and her eyes glimmered with surprise — and something deeper, something unspoken. She looked down shyly, a small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips.
Aryan couldn’t help but smile too. The tension between them dissolved into something tender, something real.
“I’m not in a hurry to hear your reply,” he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “You can tell me whenever you want.”
She nodded slowly, still unable to meet his eyes, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.
Aryan released her hand and started the car again. The city lights stretched ahead, painting streaks of gold across the windshield. Neither spoke for the rest of the drive — but the silence between them wasn’t empty anymore.
It was warm. Peaceful. Hopeful.
Two hearts that had once collided by chance… were now quietly, unknowingly, beginning to align.
The house was quiet — almost too quiet. The faint ticking of the wall clock echoed softly in the background, blending with the rhythmic rustle of turning pages.
Priya sat cross-legged on the bed, lost in her book. The soft amber light from the bedside lamp fell across her face, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheek and the calm glimmer in her eyes. The rest of the room was cloaked in shadows, peaceful yet alive with the quiet hum of emotions left unsaid.
Across the room, Aryan lay on the couch, one arm draped over his forehead, his mind replaying every word from the car ride — “Riya, I love you.”
The confession still lingered in the air like the faint scent of rain after a storm.
Breaking the silence, Aryan called out, his voice low but steady, “Riya, please turn off the light. I want to sleep.”
Priya looked up from her book, a playful glint flickering in her eyes. She tilted her head slightly and smirked. “You can sleep on the bed if you want,” she said, teasingly, her tone light yet laced with something deeper — something inviting.
Aryan propped himself up on one elbow, caught off guard by her sudden warmth. “Are you kidding with me, right?” he asked, his lips curving into a disbelieving smile.
But her expression softened into sincerity. “No, I’m serious.”
For a heartbeat, he just stood there — frozen between surprise and wonder. His heart thudded against his chest as he slowly rose from the couch. The distance between them felt charged, as though every step he took was pulling him closer not just physically, but emotionally.
“Wait…” he murmured, his voice low, trembling slightly. “Is…” He stopped midway, searching her eyes for an answer. “What I’m thinking… it’s true?”
Her eyes shimmered, reflecting both amusement and affection. “And what are you thinking?” she asked, her voice barely audible — soft as a whisper yet laced with anticipation.
He took another step closer. The glow from the lamp wrapped them both in warmth. The air between them thickened, alive with unspoken words.
“Is it your reply?” he asked finally, his tone gentle — vulnerable.
Priya’s heart fluttered. She could feel her pulse quicken, her breath hitch. Slowly, she leaned forward, her lips brushing softly against his in a fleeting, tender kiss.
As she pulled back, her face flushed and her eyes glowed with a mix of shyness and love. In a breathless whisper, she said, “I love you.”
For a moment, Aryan just stared — stunned, overwhelmed, and utterly enchanted. Then his expression broke into the kind of smile that reaches the eyes. “Love you too,” he whispered back, his voice rich with emotion.
He cupped her face gently, closing the remaining distance between them. Their lips met again, this time with all the pent-up affection and tenderness that had been building between them for weeks.
Outside, the night remained still — but inside, their world shifted. The room, once quiet and dim, now pulsed with warmth, connection, and a love that felt both new and inevitable.
Morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, painting the room in shades of gold. The soft chirping of birds outside was the only sound breaking the calm.
Priya stirred first. She blinked against the light, momentarily confused — then she felt the warmth beside her. Aryan lay on the edge of the bed, still half asleep, one arm lazily draped over her waist. His usually composed face looked peaceful, boyish even, as the faint rise and fall of his chest matched the rhythm of her breathing.
A small smile touched her lips. She carefully turned to face him, studying the quiet strength in his features — the way his hair fell across his forehead, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. For the first time, she realized how much comfort she found in his presence.
Her heart fluttered. This man confessed his love to me last night… and I actually said it back.
A tiny blush crept up her cheeks at the thought.
Trying not to wake him, she slipped out of bed and went to the mirror. Her reflection stared back — hair messy, cheeks glowing. She touched her lips unconsciously and smiled to herself.
Behind her, Aryan stirred and opened his eyes. His gaze found her instantly, and the moment he did, a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.
“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice still husky from sleep.
Priya turned around, her heart skipping a beat at the way he looked at her — no words, just warmth. “Good morning,” she replied, her tone shy but sweet.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “You look… different today.”
“Different?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she fixed her hair.
He nodded, leaning against the headboard, his lips curving into a grin. “Yeah. Like someone who’s hiding a beautiful secret.”
Her cheeks flamed instantly. “Stop teasing,” she muttered, pretending to look away — but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
Aryan chuckled quietly and got off the bed. As he walked past her toward the closet, he paused for a moment beside her, his hand brushing against her shoulder — gentle but deliberate. “I’m not teasing,” he whispered near her ear. “I’m just happy.”
Her breath caught for a second, and she turned to him, their eyes meeting through the mirror. For a few heartbeats, neither of them moved — just quiet understanding and an emotion that needed no words.
Then, trying to break the moment, she said softly, “You’re going to be late for office.”
“And you’ll be late for your shoot,” he replied with a smirk.
They both smiled. It wasn’t awkward — it was warm. Something had shifted between them overnight, something tender and real.
As Aryan left the room to get ready, Priya stood by the mirror, still smiling to herself. The day had only just begun, but she knew — nothing between them would ever feel the same again.
The bright studio lights flickered to life once again as the crew prepared for another long day of shooting. The air buzzed with chatter — costume designers adjusting clothes, cameramen testing angles, and Jully giving out last-minute instructions.
Priya walked in quietly, her usual cheerful energy replaced by a calm composure. Dressed in a soft pastel outfit, she looked radiant — but her eyes, usually bright with friendly warmth, seemed distant. She greeted a few crew members with a polite smile and made her way to the makeup chair, avoiding the corner where Jake was laughing with some technicians.
Jake noticed.
His laughter faded slightly as his eyes followed her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t even glance his way. Strange, he thought. Not even a ‘good morning’?
When the makeup artist finished, Jully called out, “Alright, Jake, Riya — get ready for the emotional reunion scene. Let’s make it natural.”
Priya nodded, adjusting her dupatta, and walked to her mark without looking at Jake. He joined her, forcing a grin. “Hey,” he said quietly, trying to catch her eye. “You’re ignoring me now?”
Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. “I’m just focusing on the scene,” she replied, her tone neutral.
Jake frowned. “Since when do you need to avoid talking to me to focus?” he asked, his voice low, teasing — but with a hint of irritation underneath.
Before she could answer, Jully’s voice cut through the tension. “Action!”
Priya immediately slipped into character, her expression shifting into one of quiet sorrow as the camera rolled. Jake delivered his lines with practiced ease, but her restraint — her distance — felt too real. Every time his character moved closer, she instinctively took a step back, keeping space between them that wasn’t in the script.
“Cut!” Jully said, confused. “Riya, that was good, but in this scene, you’re supposed to look at him. It’s your first meeting after years, remember?”
“Sorry,” Priya said softly, forcing a smile. “I’ll do better.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. Something’s off. The way she avoided eye contact, the stiffness in her body — it wasn’t just acting. It was deliberate.
They tried the scene again.
“Action!”
This time, Jake reached out to touch her hand as the script demanded — but Priya instinctively pulled back, pretending it was part of the emotional beat. Jully frowned but didn’t stop the take, thinking she was improvising.
“Cut! Perfect,” Jully said finally, satisfied. “That hesitation actually worked beautifully for the scene. Keep that emotion next time too.”
Priya nodded silently and walked off set before Jake could say another word.
Jake’s jaw tightened as he watched her retreating figure. She’s avoiding me. Ever since that day. His hands clenched into fists. So it’s because of him.
He followed her with his gaze until she disappeared behind the dressing room door. A smirk crept across his lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Fine, Priya,” he muttered under his breath. “You can avoid me all you want… but I’ll find out what changed you. Or I’ll change….”
After long, busy months filled with endless shoots, tight schedules, and late-night rehearsals, it was finally a peaceful morning. The soft hush of the early day filled the Khanna mansion, broken only by the gentle chirping of sparrows outside the window.
During all these months, Priya had managed to distance herself from Jake. On set, she avoided unnecessary conversations, and whenever she could, she brought Mrs. Khanna along. Her calm presence acted as a shield — one Jake didn’t dare cross. Slowly, the tension that once lingered between them began to fade into the background of her life.
Now, wrapped in the warmth of her blanket, Priya looked completely at peace — a rare sight after weeks of exhaustion. The morning sun streamed through the curtains, scattering golden light across the room. It glimmered over her face, highlighting her serene expression and the soft rise and fall of her breathing.
Aryan stood by the bed, his tie half-done, watching her with a small, amused smile. For a moment, he just admired her — her hair slightly messy, her face tucked halfway under the blanket, her lips curved in the faintest sleepy pout. Then, leaning closer, he gently shook her shoulder.
“Riya, wake up. It’s too late,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, a mix of affection and practicality.
She groaned in protest, her hand lazily brushing his away as she pulled the blanket over her head. “Let me sleep more,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the covers.
Aryan chuckled quietly. There was something irresistibly adorable about her stubbornness. He sat at the edge of the bed, his tone teasing now. “It’s too late, girl… don’t you have any shoot today?”
Her sleepy voice floated from under the blanket. “No…” she replied, heavy with drowsiness.
He smiled at her innocence — the way she sounded like a child bargaining for five more minutes of sleep. “Okay, so you sleep,” he said softly, standing up and adjusting his watch. His tone turned tender as he leaned down and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “I’m going to the office,” he added, and then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Bye,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.
Even in her half-asleep state, Priya smiled faintly at the touch, her heart unknowingly fluttering at the small gesture. Aryan paused for a moment longer, watching her peaceful face, before quietly turning to leave.
As the door closed behind him, the room fell into silence again — the golden morning light wrapping Priya in a cocoon of warmth and calm. A soft smile lingered on her lips as she drifted back to sleep, completely unaware that somewhere in that simple morning routine, their bond had deepened a little more.
The morning had been peaceful — unusually so.
Priya was sitting in the living room with Mrs. Khanna, the soft clink of teacups echoing between their quiet conversation. The scent of jasmine tea mingled with the faint aroma of the lilies Mrs. Khanna kept in a vase on the table. It was a rare moment of calm — a pocket of normalcy after months of emotional turbulence.
Priya smiled as Mrs. Khanna talked about mundane things — the cook’s new recipe, the color of the curtains, a new boutique opening nearby. It felt light, easy. For once, Priya wasn’t thinking about the set, Jake, or the tangled web of her lies.
Then — Ding Dong.
The sharp ring of the doorbell sliced through the tranquility like a blade. Priya’s smile faltered. She set her teacup down gently, the porcelain clinking against the saucer.
“I’ll get it,” she said, her tone casual though her heartbeat quickened for reasons she couldn’t explain.
As she walked to the door, the faint echo of her footsteps filled the hallway. She opened it — and froze.
Standing outside were several police officers. Their uniforms were crisp, their expressions grave. One of them stepped forward and held up his badge.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said formally.
Priya’s throat tightened. “What can I help you with, sir?” she asked, her voice polite but already trembling with unease.
The officer’s eyes didn’t waver. “Can I meet Mrs. Riya Khanna?” he asked, his tone professional but weighty — almost accusing.
Priya’s stomach dropped. A chill ran down her spine. “It’s me,” she managed to say, forcing her voice steady. “What do you need?”
“Can we sit inside and talk?” the officer asked.
Priya hesitated for a split second, searching his eyes for an explanation, then nodded. “Sure,” she said softly, stepping aside to let them in.
As they entered, Mrs. Khanna looked up in surprise, her brows furrowing. The air in the room thickened with tension.
“Officer, is everything okay?” Mrs. Khanna asked, her voice edged with concern.
The officer didn’t sugarcoat his response. “Maybe it’s not,” he said, his tone grim and final.
Mrs. Khanna’s teacup rattled slightly in her hand. “What do you mean?” she demanded, her voice rising with alarm.
The officer turned toward Priya, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “Mrs. Riya, are you from India?” he asked.
Priya swallowed hard. Her palms were sweating, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Can I see your documents and passport?” he asked, his tone firm, allowing no argument.
Priya’s fingers trembled. “Can you first tell me what’s going on here?” she asked, her anxiety bleeding through her words.
“First, show me your documents,” the officer insisted, his voice clipped and authoritative.
“But…” Priya began, her voice faltering under the weight of fear.
“Riya,” Mrs. Khanna interrupted firmly, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Priya’s heart sank. With a defeated sigh, she rose and walked toward her room, every step feeling heavier than the last. Inside, her hands shook as she opened her drawer and took out the documents — papers that suddenly felt like fragile evidence of a double life.
When she returned, she handed them over to the officer. “Here they are,” she said shakily, her voice breaking slightly.
The officer took them without a word and began flipping through them, his expression unreadable. The silence in the room was unbearable — heavy enough to crush.
“Now tell me, what happened?” Priya finally asked, her voice trembling.
Without hesitation, the officer looked up and said coldly, “Mrs. Riya, you are under arrest.”
The words struck like a thunderclap. Priya’s mind went blank. “What?” she gasped, her voice filled with disbelief.
Mrs. Khanna’s face turned red with fury. “What do you mean?” she demanded, rising from her seat.
The officer’s expression didn’t change. He gave a short nod to a female officer beside him. “Arrest her,” he ordered.
Priya’s eyes widened in horror as the female officer approached her with handcuffs. “But what is my crime?” she asked desperately, her voice rising in panic.
The officer’s reply was cold and precise, like a verdict. “Your crime is that you entered Paris with a fake identity… Miss Priya.”
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. The room spun. The walls closed in. Priya stood frozen, her face pale, her breathing shallow. It felt like her entire life — every lie, every secret — was crashing down around her.
The metallic click of the handcuffs echoed in her ears, sounding like the end of everything she’d built.
Mrs. Khanna rushed forward, her voice breaking. “Officer, wait! We can sit and talk comfortably—”
“Whatever you want to discuss now will be done at the police station,” the officer interrupted sharply.
Tears welled in Priya’s eyes as the officers led her out. She turned once — to see Mrs. Khanna’s face etched with disbelief and heartbreak.
“Please, just listen—” Mrs. Khanna tried again, following them out, her voice desperate.
The street outside was quiet, painfully normal — a cruel contrast to the chaos unfolding in Priya’s life.
At the police station, Mrs. Khanna did everything she could. She spoke with the officers, pleaded for understanding, tried to explain there must be some mistake. But her words met with cold professionalism.
Finally, she turned to Priya, her eyes full of helpless sorrow. “I think we should tell Aryan everything,” she said quietly.
“No, Mom… please,” Priya whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Mrs. Khanna sighed, her heart breaking for the girl who had become like her daughter. She reached out and squeezed Priya’s trembling hands. “We’ll fix this,” she murmured, though even she wasn’t sure how. The day had started with warmth and laughter — with tea, sunlight, and love. But now, it had descended into a nightmare.
Priya sat there, numb, her mind racing with fear and guilt. The only thought that echoed in her head was the one she couldn’t bear — What will Aryan think when he learns the truth?
❁𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑❁
❀𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙!❀
♡ 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎 ♡
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