Arjun

Sunday morning felt like a weight I couldn’t shrug off. The sunlight streamed through the large windows of my room, mocking me with its brightness. I sat on the edge of my bed, glaring at the navy-blue suit that my mother had carefully laid out for me.

I didn’t want to do this—meet some stranger and pretend to care about marriage. It wasn’t on my radar, not now, not for a long time. But my father had made it clear there was no way out of it. His words from last night still echoed in my head: “The meeting is set. The Kapoor family is expecting us.”

With a resigned sigh, I pushed myself off the bed and headed to the shower. The hot water did little to ease my irritation. An hour later, I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. I had to admit, I looked sharp in the tailored navy suit. The crisp white shirt and slim black tie added to the polished look. My dark brown hair was neatly combed back, and I decided to leave the stubble on my jaw—it gave me an edge, a bit of defiance to the situation.

I grabbed my silver watch from the dresser and fastened it around my wrist. A glance at the time reminded me there was no escape from this charade.

                       Arjun's outfit

Downstairs, my mother’s face lit up the moment she saw me. “Ready, Arjun?” she asked, adjusting the pleats of her saree as she gave me an approving look. My father was already at the door, holding a box of gifts wrapped in golden paper.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without letting my irritation show. The drive to the Kapoor house was mostly quiet, except for my mother’s chatter about how lovely this girl, Ananya Kapoor, was supposed to be. I leaned against the window, watching the city blur past, tuning out her words. It didn’t matter to me what the girl was like—I wasn’t looking to be charmed.

When we arrived, the Kapoors were waiting for us at the entrance. Ananya’s father greeted us warmly, his handshake firm and his smile genuine. “Welcome, welcome!” he exclaimed, ushering us inside.

As per tradition, I bent down to touch his feet. “Bless you, my boy,” he said, patting my back. I straightened, offering him a polite nod.

Inside, the living room was spacious and tastefully decorated. My father handed over the gift box, and the Kapoors reciprocated with their own, all while exchanging pleasantries. I sat stiffly on the plush sofa, watching as trays of snacks and drinks were brought in. My parents seemed to enjoy the small talk, but my mind wandered.

What would Ananya Kapoor be like? I wondered if she would be pretentious, overly compliant, or maybe one of those girls obsessed with appearances. Not that it mattered. This was all for my parents’ sake, not mine.

Still, my gaze kept darting to the staircase, expecting her to appear any moment.

---

Ananya

I couldn’t stop pacing. My room suddenly felt too small, my nerves too big. Today was the day I’d meet him—Arjun Malhotra. My prospective husband. The thought sent a rush of anxiety through me.

I turned to the outfit I had chosen carefully the night before. It was a soft peach kurta with silver embroidery that shimmered under the morning light. The fabric felt smooth against my skin, light and comfortable but elegant. The dupatta was equally beautiful, with intricate designs along the edges.

I slipped into the outfit and added a pair of silver jhumkas that jingled softly as I moved. A simple silver bracelet graced my wrist, and my long hair fell in soft waves over my shoulders. I kept my makeup light—just a touch of pink lipstick and a hint of kohl to define my eyes.

As I looked at my reflection, I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I dabbed a little floral perfume onto my wrists and neck, the scent soothing me slightly.

                    Ananya's outfit

The door creaked open, and my mother stepped inside, her face lighting up when she saw me. “You look beautiful,” she said, her voice filled with pride. She gently draped the dupatta over my head, veiling me slightly. “Arjun will fall in love with you at first sight.”

I smiled at her words, though my heart was still racing. Did I even want him to fall in love with me? I wasn’t sure.

“Nervous?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied me.

“No,” I lied, plastering a cheerful smile on my face. “Just... curious.”

She chuckled. “That’s my girl.” She kissed my forehead lightly. “Come, they’re here.”

I followed her downstairs, my hands clutching the dupatta tightly. I kept my smile intact, even as my pulse quickened with every step.

Then downstairs my eyes meets his. I must say he is handsome. His dark brown hairs and navy blue suit was really did something in me.

---

Arjun's Pov

The moment she appeared, descending the staircase, everything seemed to slow down. My eyes locked onto her immediately, and I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to.

She walked with a quiet confidence, her peach kurta swaying with each step. The silver embroidery caught the light, giving her a soft glow. Her dupatta was draped loosely over her head, framing her face in a way that was both modest and striking.

Her eyes were lined with kohl, making them stand out even more, and her lips curled into a small, nervous smile. The soft waves of her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the silver jhumkas she wore swayed gently with every step.

I hated how much attention I was paying to every little detail.

She greeted my parents warmly, her voice steady despite the obvious nervousness in her eyes. That smile of hers—it could win anyone over, just like my brother, Rohan, have and which made me think he would take over our family business but he didn't.
Obviously bhai and bhabi also seems to like her.

But not me.

There was something about her that irritated me. Maybe it was how effortlessly she seemed to charm everyone in the room. Or maybe it was the way she carried herself, with that cheerful demeanor that screamed “pampered princess.” I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the type of person who’d been coddled all her life—irresponsible, sensitive, and too carefree for her own good.

When she sat beside me, I felt her presence acutely. She was polite, answering questions from my parents and hers with poise. But I could see through it. She was putting on a show, just like I was.
But her cheerful personality wasn't a show..... the one thing I hate.

---

Ananya's Pov

Sitting beside Arjun felt like being under a microscope. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me. His gaze was intense, almost unnerving, but I refused to let it shake me.

I answered everyone’s questions with as much confidence as I could muster, though my hands clutched the edge of my dupatta tightly in my lap.

Arjun, on the other hand, was quiet. He spoke only when asked, his answers short and polite but distant. His expression was unreadable, which only made me more curious about what he was thinking.

But his eyes.... his eyes have something. The moment I meet his eyes I couldn see the broken parts somewhere. I don't know, it makes me want to be there for him, hold him, comfort him. Most importantly, heal him.

---

Arjun's Pov

Throughout the evening, I found myself stealing glances at her. Not because I was interested, but because I was trying to figure her out.

At dinner, she moved around the room effortlessly, helping her mother serve food, chatting with my parents, and even managing to crack a joke or two that made everyone laugh. Everyone except me.

I couldn’t deny she must be just another irresponsible person like my brother. Her cheerful personality irritates me. I hate how carefree she is. Her loving and cheerful personality made my parents like her but not me. No chance. She is just another elder child of a family like my brother Rohan.

---

As we left the Kapoor house, my parents couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful Ananya was. They praised her kindness, her charm, and her elegance.

I stayed silent, staring out of the car window, trying to push her from my mind. She was everything I didn’t want. But somehow, despite my irritation, she had left an impression on me—one I couldn’t quite shake.

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