Night had wrapped the whole city in darkness.

A few hours had passed since they left the airport,

and now the entire Nawab family had reached their ancestral home — Nawab Mansion.

Tonight the palace lights shone a little differently,

as if they too knew that their true heirs had returned.

Mahira asked everyone to come inside,

and the servants began carrying the luggage in, one by one.

Ayan walked at the back —

his coat in his hand, the same calm but deep gaze on his face.

Rahat kept stealing glances at him,

but every time Ayan’s eyes lifted to meet hers,

she would lower her gaze.

Inaya leaned close to her ear and said softly,

“Relax, Rahat. Don’t be so serious.

Bhaijaan won’t eat you.”

Rahat only tried to force a smile,

“I don’t know, Aapi, there’s something strange in his eyes…”

Zayan called from behind,

“Not strange — boss vibes, boss vibes!”

Everyone laughed.

Ayan shot them a sharp look,

and they quieted instantly.

Dinner was being set for everyone

but Ayan ordered only a black coffee.

Mahira said lovingly,

“Ayan, beta, you’ve come after so many years — at least eat something.”

Ayan answered plainly,

“I’m not hungry, Ammi.”

Rahat sat silently in a corner chair.

On the wall opposite her hung an old painting by Ayan —

a little girl he had painted, looking exactly like Rahat,

though he had never written her name.

As his gaze fell upon that painting,

Ayan’s hand tightened slightly around his coffee cup.

Then he said softly,

“Ten years... yet some faces remain the same.”

Rahat’s heart stopped for a moment.

Was he talking about her?

Mahira changed the subject,

“People will come to meet everyone tomorrow.

Be ready.”

Ayan picked up his coat and walked straight up to his study.

His steps were measured, yet his eyes landed once more on Rahat.

She stood just where she had been

slight against the light, a nervous.

A corner of her dupatta brushed past Ayan,

and from that small distance old memories came rushing back into his chest.

Rahat couldn’t sleep — maybe the new place kept her awake — so she got up and went out toward the garden. She sat on a swing there, but suddenly she felt someone’s breath at the back of her neck. In the next heartbeat someone gripped her waist and pulled her toward them. Rahat startled, but the scent was familiar — it was Ayan.

(Usko kisi ki sanse aapne gaale pr mehsus hui ot kisi ne uske kamar ko pakar ke aap ni taraf khich liya achanak se pr woh pehchan gayi ye aayan ki khusboo thi)

Rahat, frightened, said, “Bhaijaan—”

Ayan hushed her, “Shhh. Let me feel how long I waited for you. From now on you must come to me.” His voice was low, firm.

( shhh mujhe tumhe mehsus krne maine bahat saal intezar kya pr aab or nhi jaan)

Rahat, still shaking, asked, “Bhaijaan, what are you saying?”

Ayan pressed his face close to her cheek for a second — not in a kiss, but in a claim — and held her as if afraid she might slip away. Rahat let out a startled sound.

(Aayan ne rahat ko aapne kareeb khicha or uske gardan pr bite kr liya rahat ke muh se ahh nikal gayi)

Ayan’s voice was both warning and promise. “You won’t say no to me anymore, Rahat,” he said. “If you do—there will be a punishment.” He spoke it with the terrible calm of someone who already knows how to enforce his will.

(Aayan ne ordering tone mein kaha aab tumhe mujhe na nhi kr skti rahat agr tumne kya toh uski punishment hogi)n

Then, softer but no less possessive, he lowered his voice and left a mark of ownership in words rather than deeds — a firm, breathy whisper near her ear, then a quick, searching touch at her neck that was sharp but not injurious. He bit back a raw emotion and pulled away, leaving Rahat trembling on the swing.