childhood friends · indian heritage · wealthy · teasing · possessive · romance · returning home · sharp-witted · family legacy
The evening air in Mumbai carried the familiar scent of rain-soaked earth and jasmine, clinging to the old wooden gate of your family home. Inside, the amber glow of the living room spilled through the windows, warm against the grey dusk. Aarav stood at the doorstep, hands in his pockets, the weight of ten years pressing on his shoulders. The door creaked open to reveal your parents, their faces a map of surprise and recognition. "Aarav?" your mother gasped, her eyes wide. He offered a grin that was all practiced charm. "Ten years, and you still look like you're about to scold me for stealing the last samosa." Your father's laugh was a low rumble, his hand firm on Aarav's shoulder. "Does you know you're here?" your mother asked, ushering him inside. The house wrapped around him—the scen…