Chapter 14: A Debt of Concern – Part 2
Siara's eyes fluttered open once again, this time with more awareness. The warmth of the plush duvet still wrapped around her, but the moment she caught sight of the time displayed on the golden-rimmed wall clock—8:30 AM—her heart lurched.
“Oh no,” she muttered, pushing the covers away as she sat up abruptly.
Her hands instinctively patted around for her bag. "Mera bag?" (My bag?) she asked urgently, her voice still slightly hoarse from the night before.
Ekansh, who was leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow at her sudden panic. Without a word, he reached to the bedside table, picked up her handbag, and extended it toward her.
Siara took it immediately, her fingers fumbling inside until she found her phone. The moment the screen lit up, her breath hitched. Flooded with missed calls and messages.
Her stomach twisted as she scrolled through the notifications—most were from her father, some from her friends, and even a few from her office. Without wasting another second, she tapped on her father’s number.
The phone barely rang once before his voice burst through.
"Sia, kaha ho tum bacha?! Aur tum phone kyun nahi utha rahi thi?! Janti ho kitna dar gaye the hum sab?!" (Sia, where are you, child?! Why weren’t you answering your phone?! Do you know how scared we all were?!)
Siara squeezed her eyes shut, guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. She knew her father must have been panicked beyond belief.
"Papa, main theek hoon." (Papa, I’m fine.) She tried to keep her voice steady. "Sab bataungi, bas ghar jaane do pehle." (I’ll explain everything, just let me come home first.)
Her father’s breath was shaky on the other end. "Theek hai, bas jaldi ghar aa jao." (Alright, just come home quickly.)
After reassuring him once more, she disconnected the call and exhaled deeply, pressing a hand against her forehead.
"Ek din gayab kya hui, sabko toh hadd se zyada fikar hone lagi hai," she muttered under her breath. (I disappear for one day, and everyone is overly worried.)
A deep chuckle made her head snap up.
"Well, I don’t blame them," Ekansh said, his tone amused. "Especially after what happened last night."
Rolling her eyes, Siara moved toward the door. "Main chalti hoon." (I’m leaving.)
"I’ll drop you home," Ekansh said, his voice firm.
Siara turned to him with a pointed look. "Not necessary."
Ekansh’s gaze darkened slightly. "Zidd mat karo, Siara," (Don’t be stubborn, Siara,) he warned.
She sighed, then glanced down at her clothes again. "I’ll return these soon."
Ekansh smirked. "Aur agar main kahun, mat wapas karna?" (And what if I say, don’t return them?)
She raised an eyebrow. "Main bhej dungi," (I’ll send them back,) she replied firmly.
Just as she was about to step toward the door, it suddenly opened, and Kavya walked in, relief washing over her face.
"Siara!" Kavya’s eyes scanned her before she let out a breath. "You’re awake. How are you feeling now?"
Siara gave a small nod. "Better."
Kavya shook her head. "You saved me from getting drugged and then got drugged yourself. The irony."
Siara chuckled dryly. "Yeah, tell me about it."
Kavya’s expression turned serious. "But… the way it happened—it doesn’t seem random."
Siara frowned, her instincts kicking in.
Kavya crossed her arms. "Whoever did this knew you wouldn’t touch any drinks or food at the event. That’s why they came up with another way."
Siara’s blood ran cold. "That’s what I was thinking."
The realization settled heavily between them.
Ekansh, who had been standing quietly, finally spoke, his voice cold and sharp. "I’ll find out who did it soon."
Siara turned to him, sensing the danger lurking behind his calm demeanor.
"But for now," he added, "you’re going home."
Siara opened her mouth to argue. "Ekansh—"
"Not up for discussion," he interrupted smoothly.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She hated being ordered around, but something about the look in his eyes told her it was useless to fight this battle.
As they walked down the grand staircase, Siara couldn’t help but notice the opulence of Vardhan Mansion.
The grand chandelier hanging above them sparkled like a constellation of golden stars, and the black-and-gold marble flooring gleamed under the soft morning light. Intricate carvings lined the tall walls, and expensive artifacts filled the spacious hall.
Everything about the mansion screamed power and prestige.
She was so lost in admiring the space that she nearly missed a voice calling out.
"Rukiye! Aap aise nahi ja sakti!" (Wait! You can’t leave like this!)
Siara paused on the last step, turning toward the source of the voice.
A middle-aged woman dressed in a neatly pleated saree hurried toward them, a concerned look on her face.
Who was she?
And why couldn’t she leave?