The antiseptic smell was the first thing to hit her, sharper than the throbbing pain radiating through her limbs. Meira peeled her eyes open, the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital ward stinging her vision.
Taniya was right there, perched on the edge of a chair, her eyes swollen and red. She let out a ragged breath of relief the moment Meira's gaze cleared. Behind her, the atmosphere was far more toxic. Yamini stood with her arms crossed, looking more insulted by her daughter's tears than concerned for Meira's life. Vivek stood beside his wife, offering a rare, faint flicker of sympathy, while Mohini hovered in the corner, her expression a mask of confusion.
The door swung open. Seema, who had been hovering near the bed, rushed out to signal someone in the hall. A moment later, Divya swept in. This time, she wasn't alone. She was flanked by Tarun and a handsome young man who walked with an air of arrogant grace, his attention fixed protectively on Divya. To Meira, it felt as though her collapse had summoned the entire Salai court to witness her weakness.
"How are you feeling, Meira?" Tarun asked, his tone uncharacteristically grim.
"I'm fine," Meira rasped, her throat still feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. "But why am I here? I only remember fainting in the hall..."
Divya stepped forward, her presence cold enough to drop the room's temperature. "You had an allergic reaction to peanuts. It was in your lunch. Seema, ensure that this girl's allergies are documented and avoided immediately. We cannot afford another... oversight."
The young man beside Divya stepped forward, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Mom, why are we making such a fuss over this?"
"Because, Mr. Raghav," Tarun interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, "your father's will is very specific. It states that if anything—anything at all—happens to Meira during these six months, the entire Salai estate will be liquidated and donated to the NGO named after your grandmother, Roopa Salai."
A deafening silence fell over the room. Raghav's handsome face contorted into a mask of pure rage. "What the hell are you talking about, Tarun? Is this girl that important? How could Dad do this to us? He's handed our legacy to an unknown girl and forgotten his own blood!"
Raghav's outburst was cut short as Divya levelled a horrifying, predatory look at him. The sheer intensity of her gaze silenced her son mid-sentence, his jaw tightening in suppressed fury. Yamini opened her mouth to speak, likely to fuel Raghav's fire, but one glance at Divya made her rethink.
Without another word, Divya led the family out, leaving only Seema, Taniya, and Tarun behind.
Tarun leaned in closer to Meira's bed, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "Meira, you must be careful. Your habits and your needs are not part of the Salai routine yet. You are a variable they haven't accounted for." He sighed, looking toward the door. "The doctors are discharging you early because the family is terrified of the media getting wind of this. But you need to rest."
The return to Roopa Mansion felt different after the hospital. The "golden walls" no longer represented just wealth; they represented a high-stakes insurance policy. As Meira walked through the foyer, the staff moved with a frantic, nervous energy, terrified that a single stray peanut might cost the family their entire fortune.
Meira insisted on walking to her room alone, needing a moment of silence away from Taniya's worried chatter and Seema's hovering presence. The hallway to her wing was draped in deep shadows as the evening set in.
As she neared the bend that led to her quarters, she found herself slowing down in front of the locked room Seema had dismissed earlier.
The air here felt heavy, vibrating with a coldness that had nothing to do with the mansion's air conditioning. Meira stopped, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
It was faint—the sound of fingernails dragging against heavy wood. Meira held her breath, leaning her ear toward the door.
"Is someone in there?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
From behind the thick oak, a low, melodic humming started. It wasn't a lullaby; it was a disjointed, rhythmic chanting that made the hair on Meira's arms stand up. Then came a voice, thin and cracked like dry parchment.
"The cycle... the blood... it always comes home."
Meira gasped, stumbling back. At that exact moment, a hand gripped her shoulder. She let out a muffled scream, spinning around to find Raghav standing behind her. His face was unreadable, his eyes dark and fixed on the locked door before shifting to her.
"That wing is off-limits for a reason," he said, his voice a low, warning growl. "The old structure is unstable. If you value your life—and apparently, we have to value it too—you'll stay away from things that don't concern you."
"I heard someone," Meira stammered, pointing at the door.
Raghav didn't even look at the wood. "You heard the wind in the vents, Meira. Don't let your imagination run wild. It's a dangerous habit in this house."
He didn't move until Meira hurried past him into her room, locking the door behind her. As she leaned against the wood, she could still hear that faint, rhythmic scratching echoing in her mind.
The house was full of Salai's, but for the first time, Meira felt that the most dangerous person in Roopa Mansion was the one who hadn't been introduced at all.