(Aarav’s POV)

The drive was quiet. It was the kind of silence that sat between two people who had already said enough without actually saying anything.

Kiara didn’t look at me once. She kept her gaze fixed outside, like the city lights mattered more than whatever this was. I didn’t try to start a conversation either. There was no version of it that wouldn’t turn into an argument. And I wasn’t in the mood for another one.

Still, Dada’s words hadn’t left my head.

“Just one more thing.”

We had already turned to leave when he stopped us. I looked back. So did she.

“The penthouse has everything you need,” he said, calm as always.

I nodded once. That part wasn’t the problem.

“You will share the master bedroom.”

There it was. I didn’t react immediately atleast not externally.

“That wasn’t discussed,” I said.

“It is now.”

Of course it was.

Kiara crossed her arms slightly. “And if we don’t agree?”

I almost looked at her then.

Dada just smiled faintly. “You will.”

And that was the end of it. Because when he said something like that, it wasn’t open for debate.

“You don’t have to like each other,” he added. “But you will not live like strangers.”

That line stayed longer than it should have. By the time the car stopped, I was already done thinking about it.

I stepped out first, adjusting my cuff slightly out of habit. The building looked exactly like expected. Inside, everything was already arranged. Of course it was. Nothing in this family was ever left unfinished.

Kiara walked in behind me, quiet but observant. I didn’t need to look to know she was scanning everything just like I was.

“Of course they did all this,” I muttered.

“Control issues run in your entire family,” she replied.

I didn't bother replying because she was not exactly wrong.

We moved through the space without speaking much after that. The living area was expansive, the kind of place designed to impress without trying too hard. The kitchen was fully stocked fresh groceries, labeled containers, everything already placed like someone had planned out an entire week for us.

I paused there for a second.

“They even planned the food,” I said.

Kiara glanced at the counter. “Expected.”

There were notes too. Timings. Staff availability

“Staff?” I asked.

“Part-time,” she said, scanning quickly. “Only in morning .”

The hallway was lined with doors. Kiara started opening them one by one. Guest rooms were spacious and fully furnished. Each one more than enough for either of us.

She stopped at the last door. The master bedroom. I pushed it open before she could. The room was large and balanced. Designed intentionally for two people.

I exhaled once. “They’re serious.”

“That was obvious.”

Silence settled again.

“I’ll take a guest room,” I said.

It made sense. It was simple.

She looked at me. “Why do you assume I won’t?”

“Because you won’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not your decision.”

“Neither is this,” I gestured around.

“Exactly. Which means we’re not obligated to follow it.”

I looked at her then.

“We are.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Why?”

Because I’m not dealing with questions. Because I’m not turning this into a discussion for the entire family. Because once something like this becomes visible, it becomes permanent.

But what I said was,

“Because if we don’t, it becomes a conversation.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

That was the difference. She could ignore it. I couldn’t.

“Good for you.”

I ran a hand through my hair, irritation slipping through. “Fine. Take the room. I’ll move out.”

“And then what?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s your plan?”

“It’s simple.”

“It’s stupid.”

Maybe.

“Then fix it.”

She went quiet after that. That was new.

“…fine,” she said after a moment.

I looked at her. “Fine?”

“We use the same room.”

That wasn’t what I expected. I thought she would argue until I wanted to pull my hair out or thrown her off a 100 storey building.

“We don’t make it a big deal,” she added.

Of course we don’t.

“And we don’t pretend this is anything it’s not.”

“Okay.”

She moved to the closet. “We’ll divide the space.”

“Obviously.”

“The left side is mine.”

“Take it.”

She paused slightly at that. Like she expected resistance. I didn’t give it.

Not because I agreed. Just because it wasn’t worth the argument. And because she wasn't worth my sanity.

We unpacked in silence. At one point, we both reached for the same drawer. Our hands stopped a second too long. Then both of us pulled back.

“You take it,” I said.

“I don’t need it.”

“Okay.”

Later, I stepped out to take a call. Work didn’t stop just because everything else had shifted.

“Sir, the revised projections—”

“Send them to me,” I said, leaning against the railing outside. “And hold the second phase till I review the samples.”

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call quickly.

When I stepped back inside, she was already on hers.

“…no, I want the fabric reworked, not adjusted,” she was saying, her tone calm but firm. “There’s a difference.”

Pause.

“Good. Send me the updated version tomorrow.”

She ended the call.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

“Work doesn’t slow down for you either?” she said.

I glanced at her. “Does it for you?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

By the time everything was set, it was already late. Too late to think about anything else. Too late to overcomplicate what didn’t need to be.

I stepped out of the room first, loosening my sleeves slightly. “Dinner?”

Kiara looked up briefly. “We don’t have staff yet.”

“I’m aware.”

She paused for a second and said, “I’ll cook.”

“Or,” I added calmly, “we both do.”

She met my gaze. A challenge.

“Fine.”

The kitchen didn’t stay quiet for long. It wasn’t chaotic, but it wasn’t calm either.

Kiara moved like she knew exactly what she was doing, measured, precise, no wasted motion.

At one point, our hands almost reached for the same thing.

We both stopped a second too long. Then she picked something else instead. Neither of us commented.

Dinner came together faster than expected.

We sat across from each other at the table, the silence not exactly uncomfortable.

I took a bite. It was good, really good. But my expression didn’t change.

Kiara glanced at me briefly. “Well?”

I set my spoon down calmly. “It’s fine.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Fine?”

I met her gaze. “Yes.”

She said, “Your standards are questionable.”

I picked up his glass. “Or maybe I just don’t overreact.”

“Or maybe you don’t understand good food.”

“Or maybe I do.”

Then she added, almost casually, “Your cooking wasn’t bad.”

It was not a praise, not even close but it was something.

I leaned back slightly, my tone even. “Yours wasn’t bad either.”

That was as far as it went.

After dinner Kiara moved toward the balcony for a moment, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond. I stayed inside, sitting on the chair watching her for half a second before looking away again. There was something about this…arrangement, it wasn't comfortable but it wasn’t exactly unbearable either. And that is new, very new.

When she finally came inside, the tension returned just enough to remind us where we stood.

She took one side of the bed without a word and I took the other.

Lights off. Silence settling in again.

I stared at the ceiling for a second longer than necessary before closing my eyes. This wasn’t normal. None of this was. But for now it was surprisingly working.