"Get in the car."
"Huh?" Maya's voice trembled as she looked around.
"Didn't you hear me? Get in the car!" Arif said, his tone sharp and commanding.
Maya's eyes scanned the surroundings. The university gate was crowded with students—even though classes had ended, many were still lingering. If she got into Arif's car here, everyone would notice. Tomorrow, rumors would spread like wildfire. And if her family found out… she shivered at the thought. She was trapped. Whatever she did, it seemed like trouble awaited.
Arif noticed her hesitation. "Are you getting in, or do you want me to carry you?"
Maya's eyes went wide. Did he just say that? Was he serious? She felt a surge of panic—what if he really tried something? Ten, fifteen students were watching from a distance.
Realizing there was no use in standing around, Maya quickly slid into the car, trying to remain unnoticed. She muttered under her breath, "Let's go… let's just go…"
Arif settled into the driver's seat, his expression unreadable. The engine roared to life, and they drove in silence for about thirty minutes.
Finally, they arrived at a black luxury duplex, gleaming under the golden dusk light. Glass walls reflected the evening sun, and the house looked more like a palace than a residence. On one corner, the name "Centramani" was etched elegantly.
Maya's jaw dropped. She peeked out the window, unsure if what she was seeing was real. Arif got out, opened the car door, and gestured for her to follow.
"Do you… work here?" Maya asked, still in disbelief.
Arif blinked. "What?"
"Your house… you work here?" Maya tried again, incredulous.
"This is my house," Arif said flatly.
Maya's eyes widened even further. "Your… house? And the Mercedes? That's yours too?"
"Both," he replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Maya's mind spun. Fifteen years had passed, yet Arif had built a life completely beyond her imagination. She tried to process it: his own house, a luxury car, a successful career in America… the Khan family back home had no idea. And now she was here, standing in front of it all.
Arif led her inside. Maya followed, glued to his steps, her mind racing. The moment they entered, a high-tech wall slid aside silently. Startled, Maya stumbled slightly on the black marble floor. Arif didn't flinch. "Be careful," he said, and she steadied herself.
They moved deeper into the house. Arif grabbed a bottle of water, and Maya followed like a shadow, her eyes taking in the all-black interiors, from furniture to décor. She whispered to herself, "Does everything in this house have to be black?"
After a while, Arif motioned for her to follow upstairs. Maya's heart raced as she ascended the grand staircase to the second floor.
Finally, they entered a bedroom, but it wasn't just any bedroom. Arif led her to a second, hidden room. Maya's eyes went wide in amazement.
"Another room inside a room?" she asked, pointing in awe.
Arif smirked, his tone dry. "It's not a mall, Maya. This is my house."
Inside, Maya's gaze fell on a massive dressing room filled with elegant clothes—all traditional Bengali outfits: sarees, three-pieces, one-pieces. She pointed to the door connecting the rooms. "Is this some kind of magic door?"
Arif shook his head, amused. "No magic. Just my house."
Maya took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I… I can't wear these… some of these must belong to your wife?" she blurted out, panic rising in her chest. "I mean… it's been fifteen years. You must have had a life…"
Arif's expression stiffened. He seemed ready to scold her, but Maya quickly raised her hands, muttering, "Sorry… I just…"
The tension hung thick in the air. Maya realized she had no choice but to follow him. Every step she took behind him, she felt like glued to his presence—there was no escape, yet she couldn't look away.
"Sit quietly on the sofa," Arif said sharply.
Maya huffed, muttering under her breath as she sat. She scanned the room again, taking in the black furniture, sleek décor, and the sheer luxury. Her mind raced. Fifteen years apart, and she was completely unprepared for this.
Arif reappeared, dressed in a black T-shirt and trousers, freshly showered. "Come with me," he said, moving toward the corridor upstairs. Maya followed obediently, her heart pounding.
They reached another room, part of the massive bedroom suite. Maya's eyes widened again—it was a dressing room within the bedroom, full of elegant outfits.
She whispered, awed: "Another room inside a room…"
Arif glanced at her. "Pick anything you like. This will be your room from now on."
Maya froze, calculating quietly in her head. "I… I can't wear these. These must be your wife's… I mean… you were married fifteen years ago… I can't—this is too much…"
Arif's lips pressed into a thin line, as if restraining himself from scolding her.
Maya sighed inwardly. Fifteen years of separation, reunion in a foreign country, a luxurious house… and her heart was trapped in a whirlwind of fear, awe, and confusion.
To be continued…