Arif Khan Arrival at the Lodge The winding road snaked through the mist-cloaked forests of Simla, flanked by towering deodar trees whose branches interlocked like conspirators. The hired taxi, an old white Ambassador with rusted edges and a rattling engine, coughed its way up the slope. Rhea looked out of the foggy window, her breath forming tiny clouds on the cold glass. Her fingers tightened around Aarav’s hand. “This feels like a scene from an old horror movie,” she murmured with a nervous chuckle. Aarav grinned. “Romantic horror, maybe. Like Honeymoon in Hell.” “Not funny,” Rhea said, swatting his arm.…