Arjun

The sound of my father’s words followed me relentlessly, clinging to my thoughts like a storm cloud as I drove to work. “We’re meeting the Kapoor family on Sunday,” he had said, his tone brooking no argument. “Their eldest daughter, Ananya Kapoor, is a perfect match for you.”

My grip tightened on the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening as the phrase repeated itself in my mind. The eldest daughter. Of course, it had to be the eldest.

A voice whispered in my head, dark and sharp. Just like Rohan.

The thought was enough to send a bitter taste to the back of my throat. My brother, Rohan Malhotra, the golden child who had once been the shining star of our family, had abandoned everything—our father’s expectations, the family business, and me. He had walked away to chase his dreams, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

I sighed heavily, the sound filling the quiet of the car. I loved Rohan, despite everything. How could I not? He was my brother. But that love didn’t erase the ache of betrayal, the resentment that had taken root when he left.

I clenched the steering wheel tighter. The voice returned, relentless. What if she’s like him? Careless. Selfish. Irresponsible.

I imagined Ananya Kapoor as someone who had grown up in a cocoon of affection, pampered and protected, never having to face the harsh realities of life. Someone who would crumble under the weight of responsibility or expect others to fix her mistakes.

“Perfect match,” I muttered bitterly under my breath, a grim smile tugging at my lips. My father’s version of perfection was a cruel joke.

By the time I reached Aurum Dynamics, my mind was a tangled mess of frustration and bitterness. I parked the car and sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping out. The familiar sight of the towering glass building brought me a measure of calm. Work was my sanctuary, the one place where I was in control.

Inside my office, Karan Verma was already waiting. He lounged on the couch with a coffee cup in hand, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to my simmering mood.

“Morning, boss,” he greeted with a grin. “You look like someone just told you your entire stock portfolio tanked overnight.”

“Worse,” I muttered, tossing my bag onto the desk and sinking into my chair. “My father wants me to get married.”

Karan’s grin widened. “The great Arjun Malhotra, finally meeting his match? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Don’t start,” I snapped, rubbing my temples. “He’s already arranged a meeting with the Kapoor family on Sunday. Apparently, their eldest daughter, Ananya Kapoor, is supposed to be my ‘perfect match.’”

Karan raised an eyebrow, his grin fading slightly. “The eldest?”

“Yes,” I said, exasperated. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Rohan,” Karan said softly, and the name hung in the air between us.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “It’s not just about him leaving, Karan. It’s about what it left me with. I’ve been carrying responsibilities that weren’t supposed to be mine, cleaning up his mess, trying to live up to expectations that weren’t even meant for me. And now my father wants me to marry someone who’s probably just like him.”

“Careless, selfish, irresponsible,” Karan finished for me, nodding as if he’d heard the speech a thousand times before.

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Exactly.”

Karan was silent for a moment, studying me with a thoughtful expression. Then, with a shrug, he said, “So, tell your father no. Say you don’t want to get married.”

“I’ve said it a hundred times,” I replied, frustration lacing my tone. “He doesn’t care. He thinks marriage will ‘settle me down’ or some nonsense like that.”

Karan smirked. “To be fair, you could use some settling down.”

I glared at him, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, bad joke. But seriously, if you don’t want this, then don’t do it.”

“You think I haven’t tried that?” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “He’s already set the meeting. And now I can’t even think of a decent excuse to get out of it. What am I supposed to do? Say I have a sudden business trip?”

“Too obvious,” Karan said, shaking his head. He leaned back on the couch, his expression thoughtful. “What about pretending to be sick? Food poisoning is always a classic.”

I rolled my eyes. “My father would drag me to the meeting in a stretcher if he had to.”

Karan chuckled. “Fair point. Okay, how about this—what if we find some dirt on Ananya Kapoor? Something that makes her look like a terrible match? Your father might call the whole thing off.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to sabotage this?”

Karan shrugged. “Why not? If you’re that desperate to avoid it…”

I sighed, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the desk. “I don’t know, Karan. I just… I can’t do this. I don’t want to get married. And I especially don’t want to marry someone who’s probably going to be another Rohan.”

“Not every eldest child is like Rohan,” Karan said gently, his tone unusually serious. “Maybe Ananya Kapoor is different. Maybe she’s the kind of person who surprises you.”

I shook my head, my jaw tightening. “I don’t want surprises. I want out of this mess.”

Karan sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Alright, boss. I’ll think of something. But you might want to consider that this whole situation isn’t as black and white as you think.”

I didn’t reply,  but all I could see was the storm looming on the horizon. A storm called Sunday.

Karan smirked, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Famous last words, my friend. But mark my words: you might end up eating them when you meet her.”

I turned my chair toward the window, staring out at the city skyline. The whisper in my head returned, this time softer, almost taunting. What if Karan’s right? What if she’s not what you think?

I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. Sunday was days away, but it already felt like a storm on the horizon. One way or another, I was walking straight into it.

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