✧ Arshiya Raizada, daughter of a multibillionaire businessman and a renowned fashion designer. Mega-rich? Check. Spoiled? Most definitely. Brat? On occasions. Rulebreaker? All the time.
✧ Roshan Singhania, son of the state chief minister. Bad boy...
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Roshan
[Year 3 – January]
After a long flight and a half hour cab ride from the airport, I knock on the front door and wait for it to be answered. Arshiya looks surprised seeing me at her doorstep even as I explain, "I didn't know where else to go."
Without a question, she opens the door wide and welcomes me with open arms.
Fighting against my better instincts, I step forward and wrap my arms around her body, burying my face in her neck and breathing deeply. Comforting myself surrounded by her familiar scent.
I have been on edge since I left Mumbai. Since I left home, I hadn't been sure if it was the right thing to do. If leaving would get me in trouble. All I knew was that I wanted out. Needed an out. I couldn't keep myself surrounded by the likes of them. I don't claim to be better than them, but neither am I as worse. And there's only been one person who ever inspired me to fight for a better life.
To fight for myself.
Fifteen hours, and I am still in shock. I cannot believe I did that.
I might as well have declared war against my father - threatening to expose his precious Nisaar and his own illegal and criminal deeds if he ever crossed the people I cared about.
If he threatened them again to keep me in line.
After that, there was only one place I could think of that was far away and out of his reach. With his connections, I couldn't have stayed in the country. I had to get out and outside of the country, I only knew one person.
Letting me stay wrapped up in her embrace for a moment longer, she pulls back and ushers me inside to close the door after us. I make my way through the hallway that opens to a living room. Walking over, I crash into the leather and expected her to follow, but she takes a detour towards the kitchen. Returning a moment later, she hands me a chilled glass of water which I silently accept. Knowing that no matter how cold the weather was outside, I still preferred cold water. It's such an insignificant thing, but it still drew my attention.
She settles next to me on the couch, folding her legs back and sitting sideways facing my direction. Propping an arm on the back of the couch, she rests her head in her palm. Patiently, waiting.
After I gulp down half the glass and return it to the end table, I rest my head back on the couch and look at my right. She is in her night tee and shorts. Bed hair even if they're pulled back in the messy bun. "Sorry I pulled you out of bed."
She raises a brow, questioning if I realize how silly I am being apologizing for something like that. I suppose I understand the meaning behind that look: I couldn't control what time the flight landed. Exhaling, I shift my head to stare up at the ceiling. She lets me be for a bit, just sitting there in silence and giving me the peace and quiet.
