The Trap

The days following the tense encounter with Mr. Veer were some of the most difficult Arya had ever endured. Everywhere she turned, she felt the weight of his mistrust, even though Rohan continued to reassure her that everything would blow over. But the damage was done—rumors had begun circulating, and even at college, Arya noticed the whispers that followed her.

Rohan tried to be his usual cheerful self, cracking jokes and pulling her into impromptu plans to distract her, but even he couldn't deny that the situation was spiraling.

"Don't let it get to you," he said one afternoon as they walked across campus.

"That's easy for you to say," Arya replied, her voice tight. "You're not the one being accused of scheming your way into a wealthy family."

Rohan winced. "Okay, fair. But my dad will come around eventually. He just...needs time."

Arya wasn't so sure. She had seen the cold calculation in Mr. Veer's eyes. He was a man who didn't take risks lightly, and once someone lost his trust, it seemed impossible to regain it.

Two weeks later, Arya received an invitation she hadn't been expecting: Mr. Veer was hosting a formal dinner in honor of his birthday, and Rohan insisted she come.

"It's a good chance to make peace," Rohan said, his tone unusually serious.

"Or a chance for your father to humiliate me in front of his guests," Arya countered.

"He wouldn't do that," Rohan said. "Look, I know he can be intimidating, but he's not cruel. Besides, if you don't come, it'll look like you have something to hide."

Arya hated that he was right.

Reluctantly, she agreed.

The night of the party, Arya stood in front of her mirror, trying to steady her nerves. She had chosen a simple but elegant dress—a deep green gown that complemented her complexion without drawing too much attention. Her hair was swept into a loose bun, and she wore minimal jewelry, hoping to strike the right balance between sophistication and humility.

When she arrived at the Veer estate, the grandeur of the place was even more overwhelming than she remembered. The mansion was aglow with lights, and the sound of music and laughter spilled out onto the lawn.

Arya stepped inside, her heart pounding as she took in the sea of well-dressed guests mingling in the grand hall. She spotted Rohan near the staircase and made her way over to him, grateful for a familiar face.

"You made it!" Rohan said, grinning.

"Barely," Arya replied, glancing around nervously. "Where's your dad?"

"He's around," Rohan said, waving a hand. "Probably schmoozing with the bigwigs. Don't worry, I'll stick with you."

But Rohan's promise was short-lived. Minutes later, one of his professors arrived, pulling him into a conversation about his latest research project.

"I'll be back," Rohan said apologetically. "Promise."

And just like that, Arya was alone.

She wandered through the crowd, feeling out of place among the glittering guests. Her attempts to blend in were thwarted when she caught snippets of whispered conversations.

"Isn't that the girl?"

"The one everyone's talking about?"

"She's bold, I'll give her that."

Arya clenched her fists, willing herself to stay calm.

She made her way toward the garden, hoping for a moment of peace. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. She found a quiet corner near a fountain and sat down, letting out a shaky breath.

"Trying to escape the chaos?"

The familiar voice made her jump. She turned to see Mr. Veer standing a few feet away, his mask firmly in place as always.

"Something like that," Arya said, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

He stepped closer, his posture as composed as ever. "It seems you've become the subject of much conversation tonight."

Arya's stomach twisted, but she refused to look away. "So I've heard."

Mr. Veer studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Do you know why people are so quick to believe the worst about you?"

"Because it's easier than questioning their own prejudices," Arya said without hesitation.

His lips twitched, almost as if he were amused. "Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps it's because they sense something unusual about you."

Arya frowned. "Unusual how?"

Before he could answer, a commotion erupted inside the house. The sound of raised voices and hurried footsteps sent a ripple of unease through the air.

Mr. Veer's expression darkened. "Stay here," he said sharply before striding toward the house.

But Arya wasn't one to sit idly by. She followed him, her curiosity overriding her better judgment.

Inside, the atmosphere had shifted dramatically. Guests were gathered in the main hall, their murmurs hushed and anxious. At the center of the commotion was a woman Arya didn't recognize—a striking figure in a red dress, her face twisted with fury.

"This is outrageous!" the woman exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Mr. Veer as he entered the room. "You think you can just ignore me? Humiliate me?"

Arya's heart sank as she realized what was happening.

The woman turned her gaze to Arya, her eyes narrowing. "And here she is—the little schemer who thinks she can take my place."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arya said, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins.

"Oh, don't play innocent," the woman sneered. "Everyone knows what you're after. You think you can trap him, don't you? Get your claws into his fortune?"

"That's enough," Mr. Veer said, his voice cold and commanding.

But the woman wasn't finished. "She's a nobody, Veer. You can't seriously believe she's worth your time."

The room fell silent, all eyes on Mr. Veer as he turned to Arya. For a moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes—something that looked almost like regret.

"I trust her," he said finally, his voice firm. "And if anyone here has a problem with that, they're free to leave."

The woman's face twisted with rage, but she said nothing more. She stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Arya felt a wave of relief, but it was short-lived. The whispers started again, louder this time, and she could feel the weight of every gaze in the room.

"I think you should go," Mr. Veer said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Arya nodded, her throat tight. She turned and walked out of the house, her head held high despite the tears threatening to spill.

As she walked through the garden, she couldn't help but feel like she was leaving something behind—not just her dignity, but a part of herself she had never shared with anyone.

She didn't look back.

But deep down, she knew this wasn't the end. It was only the beginning of a battle she hadn't asked for but couldn't avoid.