Arjun

It's Tuesday, just a day after my first visit to the Kapoor family. And here I am again, not to meet Ananya Kapoor, but to slip a ring onto her finger. Yes, it's MY engagement day—an engagement to a girl I’ve barely spoken to, not that I’m particularly inclined to.

I’m seated in the drawing room, surrounded by the Kapoor family—or, as I should probably call them now, my future in-laws. The atmosphere is buzzing with chaos and excitement, none of which seems to reach me.

Shocking, isn’t it? How did I end up here, agreeing to marry Ananya Kapoor, their eldest daughter? Sigh… It took far too much drama, endless conversations, and a lot of persuasion for me to find myself at this point. And yet, here I am, on the cusp of an engagement I didn’t see coming.

Flashback

After meeting the Kapoor family, we returned home, and I was just about to retreat to my room when Dad called me. I already knew where this was heading.

"Dad, no. I’m not discussing marriage again, nor along about Ananya and her family. "

But Dad, in his usual firm tone, replied, "I’m not asking, Arjun." His voice left no room for argument.

He continued, "Ananya is a nice girl. She’s suitable for you—cheerful, active, and she brings love and warmth to the people around her. You saw that yourself."

And that’s exactly what I hate about her. She’s too cheerful, too carefree. One word: irresponsible.

“I think you should marry her. No—scratch that. You are marrying her,” Dad said firmly, leaving me stunned.

"What do you mean?" I demanded as soon as he finished.

"You can’t just decide this on your own! I’ve told you before—I’m not getting married. I don’t need a wife, nor do I want one. And most importantly, I don’t believe in love. Love is nothing but a weakness, and I won’t allow any weaknesses in my life."

Dad’s response was just as resolute. "I didn’t ask for your opinion. I’m telling you as your father. This is what’s best for you."

"Best for me? You think forcing me into a loveless marriage is what’s best? I don’t want it, I don’t need it, and I don’t have time for it." I tried to keep my anger in check, but the sharpness in my voice betrayed me.

"Beta," Mom interjected gently, "marriage isn’t just about love. It’s about companionship, stability, and trust. You’re so alone, Arjun. Don’t you think it’s time to let someone in?"

"I’m not alone. I’m focused. I don’t need distractions, especially not someone you’ve chosen for me!"

"This isn’t up for debate, Arjun," Dad cut in. "Do you think I’m doing this to punish you? I’ve watched you isolate yourself for years, burying yourself in work and letting anger consume you. I won’t stand by and let you destroy yourself. Ananya might be the only one capable of pulling you out of this."

“You’re putting a lot of faith in someone we barely know,” I snapped, my temper now slipping out of my control.

"Ananya isn’t just anyone," Mom said. "She’s different. She understands responsibility, just like you. She’s practical and won’t expect grand gestures of love."

Just like me? Bullshit. She’s nothing like me. She’s more like Rohan, my brother—the one responsible for me carrying the weight of this family’s legacy.

“I said I’m not getting married.”

Dad raised his voice, his frustration evident. "Enough! Stop hiding behind your excuses. Your mother and I have made a decision, and I expect you to respect it. We’ve met the Kapoor family, and they’ve agreed to the match. You will marry Ananya Kapoor. That’s final."

"You’ve built empires, Arjun, but you’ve built nothing for yourself," Dad continued, his voice softer now but still resolute. "I’m not asking you to believe in love. I’m asking you to trust that sometimes, life gives you what you need, not what you want. Ananya isn’t just a choice—she’s your chance to find something more. And if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the family."

Wow. I don’t even get the right to say no anymore.

A tense silence hung in the room as I clenched my fists, anger simmering beneath the surface. But if agreeing to this marriage would get them off my back, so be it. Marriage is just a contract, and I’ll treat it as one. As for Ananya Kapoor, I’ll handle her later—she’ll eventually give up on me.

Gritting my teeth, I said, "Fine. I’ll marry her. But don’t expect miracles. Don’t expect me to change, and don’t expect me to fall in love. If this will stop these conversations, then I’ll do it."

"Good. We’re going to the Kapoor house on Tuesday for your engagement," Dad said, as if my life wasn’t upended just now.

"And you didn’t think it was necessary to discuss this with me?" I asked mockingly.

"Be prepared for Tuesday. I don’t want any disgrace," Dad said, ignoring my sarcasm entirely.

I nodded and walked to my room, knowing full well that if I stayed, I’d lose control of my words—and my anger.

Flashback ends.

And that’s how I ended up here.

Karan, my best friend, plopped down beside me, grinning. "Kya bhai, mujhe toh batane ki zarurat bhi nahi samjhe? Best friend ko invite karna toh door ki baat hai!"
(What, bro? You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me? Forget inviting your best friend to the function!)

"Tu kya samjha? Agar tu nahi batayega, toh mujhe pata nahi chalega? Bhool mat, teri maa mujhe tujse zyada pyaar karti hai." He smirked.
(What did you think? If you don’t tell me, I won’t find out? Don’t forget your mom loves me more than she loves you.)

"No wonder you’re here like a bin bulaya mehmaan." (Uninvited guest.) I retorted.

Karan burst out laughing. "Uninvited? Are you serious? Your mom personally invited me to the most important day of your life."

"Shut up, Karan," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

He laughed harder, clearly enjoying this way more than he should. Typical Karan—too noisy, too nosy. But he’s been my best friend for years, so I tolerate him. Barely.

It’s been hours since we arrived, yet there’s still no sign of Ananya—the girl I’m supposed to get engaged to. Gosh! I don’t know how much longer I have to stand this. I just want to end this drama and go home. This place feels suffocating.

Just as I was drowning in frustration, I heard the soft tinkling of anklets. My attention shifted instantly to the sound, and there she was—Ananya.

She was descending the stairs with her mother and sister, her steps poised and graceful. She wore a lavender gown that surprisingly matched mine. Yet somehow, on her, it looked more beautiful than it had any right to.

When I saw her, I couldn’t help but take in the details—no matter how much I wanted to look away, I found myself silently observing every detail—whether I wanted to or not . The soft lavender of her dress was hard to miss. It wasn’t just a dress—it was like a delicate whisper of elegance wrapped around her. The gold borders catching the light with every slight movement she made. I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want to notice anything about her. But as she moved, I found myself watching anyway, my gaze betraying the indifference I was supposed to feel.

The lehenga she wore was impossible to ignore. Lavender. A color I wouldn’t have given a second thought to before now. The skirt flared around her as she moved, the fabric catching the light, shimmering like it had been stitched with stardust. The patterns—arches and paisleys—were intricate, deliberate, and somehow seemed to belong to her. The blouse clung to her shoulders, the lace sleeves brushing against her elbows. There was a ribbon tied neatly at the back, a detail so small it annoyed me that I even noticed it.

And then there were the flowers in her braid. White lilies. I’ve never paid attention to things like that before, but they suited her—far too much, if I’m being honest. The soft contrast of the white against the dark braid only added to the effortless elegance she seemed to carry.

Her dupatta, sheer and almost weightless, floated behind her like a whisper. The way it draped over her shoulders somehow made her look… poised. Regal, even.

I shouldn’t have been looking. I shouldn’t have been noticing the way the skirt moved—like it had a life of its own—or how the silver embroidery caught every stray bit of light in the room. But I did. I noticed everything. And as much as I tried to remind myself that this was a marriage I didn’t want, that she was a stranger I wasn’t interested in, the details wouldn’t leave me.

She turned slightly, the lehenga shifting with her, and I looked away, frustrated with myself. She wasn’t supposed to be someone who caught my attention. And yet here I was, caught—if only for a moment—by every deliberate, beautiful detail of her presence. It irritated me how flawless it all was, as if she’d been preparing for this role her entire life.

I wasn’t interested in her, not as my wife, not as anything more than the person my family had chosen for me. But still, I noticed everything. I couldn’t help it. Every detail of her screamed that she was exactly what I should want, yet here I stood, detached and indifferent, feeling nothing but the weight of expectations tying us together.

Ananya

It’s my engagement day. The Malhotra family had arrived hours ago, and the house was abuzz with activity.

I couldn’t help but think back to Sunday, just after the Malhotras had taken their leave. That’s when my parents brought it up.

“Anu beta,” my father had said gently, “are you okay with marrying Arjun Malhotra? Both families have already discussed the match and think it’s a good one. But the final decision is yours.”

I hesitated, looking at both of them. “Mamma, Papa, you know I’m not thinking about marriage. Not now, at least.”

Papa’s expression softened. “Anu, there’s no pressure. We just want to see you settled and happy. If you don’t like Arjun, we’ll say no to Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra. But if your hesitation is only because you don’t feel ready, I’d ask you to think about it a little more. Sometimes, the right opportunity comes when we least expect it.”

Mamma said gently, “Beta, Arjun is a nice guy—stable, respectful, and kind. He seems like he’d be a good match for you. So, are you okay with marrying him?”

I felt cornered. No choice, really. I couldn’t let my parents down. They’ve done so much for me, and this is what they want. But deep down, I didn’t want this. Not yet.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Arjun—he was good, thoughtful even. But marriage? That was a topic I had barely given serious thought to. It felt like an entirely different discussion, one I wasn’t ready for.

A voice in my head taunted me: Anu, think about your parents’ happiness. Then another voice countered, But it’s not them who will be living this life—it’s you. Choose wisely.

The inner battle raged on for what felt like an eternity. In the end, I caved. “Yes,” I said softly, agreeing to marry Arjun Malhotra.

After all, responsibility won once again.

And here I am now, getting ready to head downstairs for my engagement, wearing the gown my mother chose for this special day. My nerves are all over the place.

Isha and Mamma helped me get ready. “Kisi ki nazar na lage meri bachhi ko,”
("May no evil eye fall upon my daughter.") Mamma said lovingly as she placed a kala tika behind my ear to ward off the evil eye.

With their support, they guided me downstairs. The moment was here—the moment I was about to meet Arjun, the man I was going to marry, the man with whom I was about to begin a sacred bond.

As I descended the stairs, my heart raced. From where I stood, I could already see Arjun waiting in the living room.

As my eyes landed on him, I found myself silently observing every detail. He’s a tall man, maybe around 6’2”. And here I am, standing at 5’3”. Not a bad height, I suppose, but I’d look so small beside him, almost fragile.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in his arms someday. I’ve always dreamed of being held by a man who truly loves me—someone who makes me feel safe, cherished, and whole. The thought stirred something deep within me, a mix of curiosity and longing I wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

His lavender kurta matched my own outfit almost perfectly, though I couldn’t tell if that was by design or pure coincidence or maybe our parents have planned it.

The fabric had subtle embroidery, faint patterns swirling across the material, understated yet deliberate. It was a soft color for someone who otherwise carried such a sharp, distant presence.

The crisp white churidar contrasted the kurta effortlessly, simple yet immaculate, as if every crease had been ironed with care. Even his shoes, traditional brown mojaris, looked polished—because of course, he would be flawless. He stood there with an air of quiet confidence, his posture firm and unmoving, like this whole event was just another obligation he had to check off his list.

He hadn't noticed me yet , and still his presence felt unavoidable. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder how someone could look so effortlessly handsome in a simple kurta. Is it really possible for someone to appear so irresistibly charming without even trying?
Either way, there he was, draped in lavender, looking every bit the man I was about to call my husband.

As I entered the living room, Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra approached me with warm smiles. I respectfully bent down to touch their feet, seeking their blessings. Mrs. Malhotra then gently took my hand and guided me to sit beside Arjun.

The moment I sat down, my heart started racing uncontrollably. Nervousness crept in, making it hard to breathe steadily.

Pooja… where are you when I need you the most?

Yes. I had told her on Sunday night about my engagement. She was utterly shocked and immediately tried to console me. She kept asking if I was doing this for my family or if I was truly okay with it. Convincing her that I was fine was no easy task.

Now, as I sat beside Arjun, with all eyes on us, I wished she were here. Her presence would’ve given me the strength to steady my nerves, to remind me that I wasn’t alone in this whirlwind. But for now, I had to calm myself… somehow.

Arjun’s mother’s warm voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“You’re looking so pretty, Ananya beta,” she said, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “You and Arjun look wonderful together—just like you’re made for each other.” Her joy was unmistakable, radiating in every word.

Arjun’s father stood nearby, his expression equally content. It was clear he shared her happiness. However, the only person whose emotions I couldn’t decipher was Arjun himself. His face was calm, almost unreadable. Was he happy? Indifferent? I just couldn’t tell.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice broke the moment.

“Ananya! Hi! I must say, you are truly stunning. Just perfect for him.”

I turned to see a man I didn’t recognize, and the confusion must have been evident on my face because he quickly added, “Oh! Let me introduce myself. I’m Karan—Karan Verma. Arjun’s best friend and, honestly, his only friend,” he teased, throwing a playful glance at Arjun.

Arjun’s eyes narrowed slightly in response, and I caught the faintest glare he directed at Karan. I couldn’t help but smile a little at their dynamic.

At that very moment, I spotted a familiar face entering the room. Relief flooded through me as I saw Pooja. My best friend was finally here. Her presence was like a calming balm to my nerves.

As soon as Karan noticed her, something flickered in his eyes—a mix of curiosity and mischief. He turned to her and said in an exaggeratedly flirty tone, “Oh, and who might this beautiful young lady be?”

Pooja, clearly unimpressed, rolled her eyes and walked over to stand beside me. “Her best friend,” she said flatly, crossing her arms and giving him a no-nonsense look.

The subtle exchange made me smile again. With Pooja here, I felt a bit more grounded, ready to face whatever came next.

The moment our parents had been eagerly waiting for had finally arrived, and the guests were all here. It was a small, intimate engagement ceremony held at home, with only close family and friends in attendance.

Isha walked in, carrying the beautifully decorated thali with our rings placed neatly on it. The intricate designs and thoughtful embellishments on the tray reflected the love and care put into this occasion. My mother handed Arjun my ring, while his mother passed me his.

Arjun extended his hand toward me, waiting for me to slip the ring onto his finger. My heart raced, and I had to summon all my willpower to keep my hands steady. Somehow, I managed. After all, this was the first time I had ever touched a man.

Then, Arjun gently reached out, holding his hand above mine. I slid the ring onto his finger, my heart pounding with a mix of nervous anticipation and an unfamiliar thrill. The room filled with the warm smiles and cheers of our families, their joy resonated around us, filling the room with a palpable warmth and happiness.

Arjun

Now we’re engaged. There’s no going back.

Today, for the first time, I noticed how small and delicate she looks beside me. Sitting there, her presence felt almost fragile against my own. When it came time for her to slip the ring onto my finger, I extended my hand, and hers disappeared beneath mine. Her fingers were warm, trembling slightly, and I couldn’t stop my thoughts from straying—how would she look beneath me, her body as vulnerable as her hands felt now?

I clenched my jaw, mentally chastising myself for the vulgar direction of my thoughts. I wasn’t interested in her, nor was I particularly thrilled about this marriage. But here I am, letting my thoughts wander in ways they shouldn’t—especially when all eyes are on us.

What was it about her that stirred something so unexpected? Was it the way her small, delicate hands trembled under mine? Or the way she carried herself, nervous but determined?

I shook off the thought, trying to compose myself. This wasn’t the time to lose focus, not with the ceremony still unfolding around us. Yet, despite my best efforts, a part of me couldn’t ignore the shift within me—a curiosity, a spark I hadn’t anticipated.

The sound of applause pulled me back to reality, grounding me in the present. The ring exchange ceremony was complete. My parents stepped forward, presenting Ananya with gifts as part of the Shagun, their way of welcoming her into the family. Her parents followed, offering me their blessings and a few tokens of goodwill.

Through it all, I caught a glimpse of Ananya’s face. She smiled graciously, her eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and determination. I couldn’t decide if she was putting on a brave front or if this was just who she was—resilient, despite the awkwardness of it all.

One thing was certain: this was only the beginning, and the path ahead would test us both.

Now we’re alone. Well, not really—everyone else is just busy preparing for dinner and other things, leaving me and Ananya to ourselves.

“Arjun,” she called my name.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her voice, but it was the first time I’d heard her say my name. And damn it, I hated how beautiful it sounded coming from her lips. Soft, almost melodic, like she was breathing life into it.

I couldn’t help myself—I wondered how she would look if she were...

No. I shook my head, trying to push the thought away. It was inappropriate, wrong even, to let my mind wander there. Yet, despite my efforts, the image lingered, unbidden and vivid.

I caught myself, my thoughts veering dangerously close to a place I didn’t want them to go. Stop it, Arjun. Don’t you dare.

I clenched my fists, forcing my mind back to the present, away from thoughts I had no business entertaining, no matter how persistent they were.

"So... this is all a bit surreal, isn’t it? Us sitting here, engaged, just like that," she said, her voice light, almost teasing.

I gave a brief nod, keeping my gaze elsewhere. I didn’t want to engage in this conversation.

She laughed softly. "You’re not much of a talker, are you?"

Why does she always have to be so carefree?

"Well, I’m the opposite, so I guess that balances things out. What do you think?"

Her cheerful tone grated on my nerves, not because it was unpleasant, but because it unsettled me in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge. I avoided her gaze, shutting down my imagination before it wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.

"Maybe," I replied curtly.

Ananya must have noticed my reluctance, yet she pressed on with an unwavering smile. "You’re not making this easy, you know. But I like a challenge."

She’s too cheerful. I should hate this about her—and I do. Yet, somehow, she looks good when she’s happy. Too good. Dangerous, even. She was already creeping into my thoughts, and I needed to put a stop to it.

I glanced at my watch, eager for an excuse to leave. "I think they might need us back with the guests," I said, my tone firm but not unkind. I didn’t want to hurt her, even if I wasn’t particularly fond of her.

If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it. "Oh, sure. Let’s go. But don’t think you’re off the hook. I’ll get you to talk someday," she said, her determination unshaken.

"We’ll see," I muttered, unsure whether to admire or resent her persistence.

As we walked back, she tried to start small talk. Maybe if it were anyone else, they’d appreciate her efforts. Maybe they’d even like her for it. But not me.

And yet, here I was, having inappropriate thoughts about her—fixating on every small detail. My own mind taunted me, cruel and unrelenting.

I clenched my jaw, trying to silence the traitorous thoughts.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter, conversations, and shared happiness as both families bonded over dinner. As the evening came to an end, the guests began to leave, and it was finally time for us to depart too.

Karan decided to leave first, spotting Ananya's friend, Pooja, preparing to head out. He offered her a ride, but she politely declined. It was clear that Pooja wasn’t interested in Karan. Before leaving, she hugged Ananya warmly and whispered something in her ear before walking away.

Karan said his goodbyes to everyone and left shortly after. Now, it was our turn.

I bent down to touch Ananya’s parents’ feet as a gesture of respect, and Ananya mirrored the action with my parents before we prepared to leave. My parents, ever insistent, urged me to say goodbye to Ananya. For God’s sake... I simply nodded at her, keeping it brief.

Finally, we left.

Once we arrived home, I headed straight to my room, relieved to finally breathe. I don’t usually stay at my family home; I have my own apartment. However, since it’s my wedding, my mother insisted I stay here for the time being. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.

After taking a shower, I got ready for bed. As I lay there in the quiet of my room, my thoughts, unwillingly, drifted to Ananya. I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t interested in her—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

Then why was she the one occupying my mind? Why was I imagining things about her that I shouldn’t, things I had never thought of before meeting her?

Frustrated, I made a mental note to keep my distance from her. Whatever this was, it needed to stop. Otherwise, she might just become my undoing.

---

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