Dhruv Roy, a 30-year-old CEO and professor, lived a perfectly structured life. Aradhya Sharma, his 21-year-old student, was the complete opposite-spirited, carefree, and rebellious. She hated him, and their clashes in class were constant.
But her wo...
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“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked, sneaking a glance at her through the corner of my eye.
“No,” she replied, her voice low and a bit weary.
“Are you sure?” I pressed, hoping for a different answer.
“Can you please stay quiet? My head is already hurting.” Her tone was sharp but tired.
“Sure,” I muttered, shifting my focus back to the road. Silence fell between us as I continued driving us home. When we arrived, the guards promptly opened our doors.
“Park it, please,” I said to one of them as I stepped out. He nodded immediately, and I watched as she made her way toward the entrance.
“You two are back early?” my mother asked as we walked inside, her brow lifting in surprise.
“I just wasn’t feeling well,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
My father’s concern was immediate. “Then, Dhruv, you should’ve taken her to the hospital,” he scolded, eyeing me.
“Dad, I refused,” Aradhya interjected firmly, surprising all of us.
My father’s eyebrows shot up. “What did you just call me?”
“Dad,” she repeated, a faint smile on her face. “I hope you don’t mind.”
A wide grin spread across his face. “Not at all. I love it. I got my daughter in my daughter-in-law,” he said, eyes warm.
Aradhya managed a weak smile, but her exhaustion was evident. “I’m sorry, but could I get some sleep?”
“Of course, dear,” my mother said gently. “You need some tea?”
“No, Ma, just some sleep. That will erase my headache,” she replied with a small, grateful smile.
“Then get a good rest,” my mother said, brushing her shoulder in encouragement.
I followed her up the stairs, feeling the tension lingering in the air. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” I asked again.
“Yes,” she sighed and entered the room, barely glancing my way.
“I better change first,” she said, making her way to the bathroom.
I took off my shoes, putting them in the closet before sliding into my slippers and settling on the couch. A few minutes later, she reappeared, wearing a Disney princess night suit that seemed hilariously out of place. I stared, unable to hide my reaction.
“What?” she asked, noticing my look.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, quickly heading to the closet to grab a pair of trousers and a shirt. Her voice echoed behind me.
“Weirdo,” she muttered.
“She still wears that?” I wondered to myself. “Why do I care? She can wear whatever she likes.” I shrugged off the thought and went to change. When I returned, she was lying on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
