Ayesha stood still, her breath caught in her throat. She stared at Aman in disbelief, her mind racing to make sense of the situation. "Impossible," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if the words alone couldn't match the shock she felt.
Aman remained calm, his expression unreadable. He met her gaze steadily, unflinching. "Possible," he replied softly, offering a small, knowing smile. The reassurance in his tone did little to quell the storm inside her. Ayesha's hands clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her skin, as she struggled to control the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
Just as the silence between them grew too heavy to bear, her phone rang, cutting through the tension. Annoyed, she turned away from Aman, walking back toward her house and answering the call with a trembling hand.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was strained, laden with exhaustion and worry.
"Ayesha... why didn't you pick up earlier? The police came here today... What's going on, sweetheart? I can't reach you," her mother's voice cracked, the anxiety clear in every word.
Ayesha's heart dropped. Her eyes fluttered shut as the weight of her mother's worry crashed over her. "Oh, Mom..." she whispered, unable to hold back the tears any longer. She struggled to keep her voice steady, but the words came out choked. "I'm fine, really. Everything's fine."
"Ayesha, don't lie to me," her mother insisted, her voice breaking. "Why are they saying these things? What's going on? They've been asking questions—about you, about Rahul. They said... they said you were involved with terrorists. Is that true?"
Ayesha's throat tightened. She gripped the phone tighter, her hand shaking. "Mom, no," she said firmly, though her heart ached. "I haven't done anything wrong. I loved Rahul. I wanted to marry him. That's all. Is that really such a crime?"
Her mother was silent for a moment before responding, her voice laced with fear and confusion. "Ayesha, loving someone isn't a crime. But... if he's really involved in something dangerous, then what does that make you? How could you... how could you not see it?"
Ayesha flinched, the words slicing through her. Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her composure. "Mom," she said softly, "Rahul isn't what they say. I know him. I trust him. I don't believe any of this. Please, you have to trust me."
The line was quiet again, and Ayesha could hear her mother's labored breathing. "But why, Ayesha? Why is this happening? You were supposed to have a different life. A safe life. Not this... this chaos."
Ayesha felt her heart break at the weight of her mother's words. She closed her eyes, fighting the tears, knowing she had to stay strong. "Mom, please listen," she said, her voice unwavering despite the ache in her chest. "I haven't done anything wrong. Nothing I've done deserves this. I swear to you, this will come to light soon. I'll prove I'm innocent."
There was a long pause before her mother's voice cracked again. "Ayesha... I can't bear to see you like this. I can't do it. I'm afraid for you. Please, just come home. Please, come back to me."
Ayesha's voice softened, her heart breaking with every word. "I can't, Mom. Not yet. Not until this case is over. But I promise you, I will make sure you're safe. Just trust me. I will fix this. I'll prove to everyone that I haven't done anything wrong."
There was a long silence on the other end, and then, with a quiet sob, her mother spoke. "I just want my daughter back, Ayesha. Please don't make the same mistake again."
Ayesha's throat tightened as she tried to swallow the lump of emotion rising inside her. "I won't, Mom. I promise. I'll call you soon. Please, just stay strong."
Her mother's voice was fragile, but there was a small note of acceptance. "God protect you, Ayesha. Please be careful."
The call ended, and Ayesha stood there, her hand still gripping the phone, the silence around her deafening. Her mother's words echoed in her mind, each one digging deeper into her heart.
-----------
Aman picked up the binoculars, his fingers brushing the cool lenses as he focused them on Ayesha's house. Through the lens, he observed her every movement, every step, as she sat in solitude, her face clouded with a mixture of confusion and grief. Her posture was tense, as if the weight of her thoughts pressed down on her with every passing second.
Ayesha set her phone down and closed her eyes. Despite the courage she had tried to offer her mother, the painful truth lingered—there was no one there to offer her any comfort or reassurance.
What could Rahul be hiding? If the police suspect that it was something Rahul gave me, then perhaps...
She scanned the entire house with her eyes. Could it be hidden somewhere in this house?
Rahul had come here many times. Could he have hidden something somewhere in this house?
As she thought more about it, a feeling of certainty began to grow within her. Maybe that's exactly what had happened. She made up her mind to search the entire house.
Aman watched the scene through the binoculars. Ayesha was rummaging through every item, looking for something. He lowered the binoculars, and after a few moments of contemplation, he stepped outside.
As Ayesha rummaged through her belongings, desperately searching for any evidence, the sudden ring of the doorbell startled her. She hesitated for a moment before walking to the door and opening it.
Standing there was Aman, a large sweet box in his hands, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"What do you want?" Ayesha asked, her voice guarded.
"Is this how you greet a guest?" Aman teased, his tone light and playful.
Ayesha sighed, trying to soften her tone. "Alright, what brings you here?"
"I brought some sweets for you," Aman said, extending the box toward her with an easy smile.
"Thanks," Ayesha muttered, quickly accepting the box and starting to close the door. But before she could shut it completely, Aman rang the bell again.
Ayesha groaned inwardly, exhaling in frustration. She opened the door once more.
"What else?" she asked, her patience thinning.
"I'm thirsty. Could I trouble you for some water?" Aman asked, his tone casual but his eyes holding a quiet persistence.
Ayesha raised an eyebrow, a little annoyed. "Why don't you just go back to your place for that?"
"You really shouldn't speak to me like that, without a hint of concern," Aman said, his voice feigning exaggerated frustration. "What if I left here, collapsed on the way, and died? Would you be okay with that?"
Ayesha looked at him incredulously. "Really?"
"Well," Aman shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm new here, don't know anyone, and I was getting bored." He smiled slightly. "I thought I'd drop by."
Ayesha hesitated, her hand still on the door. "Sorry, I don't trust strangers," she said, starting to close it again.
"But I'm the one who saved your life," Aman reminded her. "And now I'm your neighbor. How am I still a stranger?"
Ayesha paused, the door halfway closed. She couldn't help but feel a tug of something unfamiliar. After a moment's hesitation, she opened the door just a little wider. "Fine. Come in, but just for a minute."
Aman stepped inside, his gaze briefly scanning the room. "What's all this?" Aman asked, noticing the disarray of items scattered across the room.
"I was just cleaning up," Ayesha replied quickly, her tone defensive.
"It looks like you were searching for something," Aman said, eyeing the scene thoughtfully.
"That's not your concern," Ayesha shot back, her voice edged with frustration.
"Of course," he said, waving his hand dismissively with a smile.
"Are you going to help me clean this place?" Ayesha asked, her tone softening a little.
"I'm not the best at this... but I'll give it a try," Aman said, removing his watch and placing it carefully on the coffee table, his face showing readiness. Together, they started picking up the scattered things, working in tandem. It took nearly an hour, but they managed to restore order to the room.
"Wow, this is incredible. I didn't realize there was so much space in here," Ayesha said, looking around in surprise.
With a glint of curiosity, she added, "You must be an interior designer, right?"
"How did you figure that out?" Aman asked, regarding her with a touch of admiration.
"It's obvious, isn't it? I can see your talent all around this place," Ayesha said, heading toward the kitchen. Aman slouched on the sofa, then turned his gaze to her. She was making coffee, her expression thoughtful yet soft. There was a hint of irritation, but also a warmth in her demeanor. Maybe Arun had been right—what if she really is innocent after all?
As Ayesha walked back with the coffee cups, Aman glanced at her briefly before picking up the magazine from the coffee table and flipping it over.
"Coffee?" Ayesha extended one of the cups toward him. He accepted it with a smile. "Thanks."
"Good," he said after taking a sip, praising her. Ayesha simply smiled in return, her expression soft.
A few moments passed in silence before he spoke again. "And... what are your plans now?"
Ayesha let out a sigh. "I don't know. My studies have been interrupted. I don't have a job. Once the rent is due this month, I'll have to leave this place. I really have no idea what's next."
Aman watched her closely. "If you're innocent, are you willing to prove it?"
Ayesha's gaze dropped, her voice tinged with sadness. "But how? I loved someone, and now everyone sees me through his identity. I can't change that. How am I supposed to prove my innocence when the past won't let me go?"
Aman leaned forward slightly. "The past can't be changed, Ayesha. But the future is still in your hands. That's what you need to focus on."
Her heart clenched as his words sank in. The past was behind her, but the future—her future—was still something she could shape. Proving her innocence might help her reclaim what she'd lost. But how? She masked her anxiety behind a faint smile, meeting his gaze with renewed determination.
(To be continued)