CHIRAG’S POV

"Ek baar toh dekh lije," Mom said, showing me the biodata.

"Sau baar bol chuka hoon. Mujhe interest nahi hai," I repeated.

"Toh wahan jaake kisi ne kuch poocha toh kya bolenge?" she asked.

"Kuch nahi... Chup rahunga," I said, walking into my room and closing the door.

"Achha, bas jaldi taiyar hoke neeche aaiye!" she screamed from outside.

"Ek baar dekh lo... Maa kasam, itna mast biodata banaya hai maine tumhara. Sex kar loge mere saath..."

I heard my best friend Nirvan's voice from behind me. He was sitting on my bed with my sister, Kashish. The two of them were playing Uno.

"Apparently you like singing and dancing," Kashish mocked.

"Get the fuck out!"

I opened the door again, pointing towards the hallway.

Both of them huffed like sulking kids, picked up their cards, and walked out.

I closed the door again and sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath.

I got up and pulled out a black shirt.

No.

I put it back. I didn't want to look too good today. Better to look stupid.

I took out a white shirt instead and wore it, pairing it with white pants, a white belt... basically, white everything. I sprayed on my cologne, fixed my hair, picked up my coat, and after one final look at myself in the mirror, I walked out.

And the moment I stepped outside, the first compliment arrived.

"What the hell..." Kashish said, standing there in beige trousers and a navy blue shirt.

"Ammi jaan, aapne toh kaha tha ladki dekhne jaana hai. Isne mayyat ka outfit kyun pehna hai?" Nirvan said, looking at my mom.

I rolled my eyes.

"Kabhi kabhi lagta hai sach mein humein aapko peet dena chahiye tha. Pata nahi kya kami reh gayi humari tarbiyat mein," Mom said, taking off her slipper and throwing it at me.

I dodged it just in time.

"Mom!" I groaned.

"Achha chalo, ab late ho raha hai. Isse khud joker banke jaana hai toh jaane do," Dad said, shaking his head.

Everyone started walking towards the family car, but I quietly turned towards mine. At this point, I'd much rather drive alone than spend the next hour listening to everyone's sarcastic comments. At least my car didn't have opinions about my life.

"Chirag! Dimaag zyada kharab ho gaya hai aapka?" Mom shouted.

I stopped and looked back. She was standing beside the car with her arms crossed, looking at me like she'd already decided to murder me.

"Chup-chaap sabke saath chaliye. Warna aaj sach mein kuch bohot bura ho jayega," she warned, pointing towards the car.

There was no point arguing. I sighed, locked my car again, and got into theirs instead.

Exactly as expected, the entire ride was spent discussing how I'd changed, how I never listened to anyone anymore, and how I wasn't the same son I used to be. Funny. Nobody ever talked about the things I never wanted. Nobody asked whether I wanted to take over all these illegal businesses. Nobody cared that I had once wanted to save lives. Instead, almost every day, I found myself taking them. And somehow people expected me to act like that didn't change anything inside me. Like becoming this heartless was easy.

Now they wanted me to get married because apparently this was the perfect age. Then we'd have children who'd eventually inherit this entire empire. This entire mess. But what about my choice? Did I have any say in whether I even wanted to be here today? Whether I wanted to meet this girl? Whether I wanted to get married at all?

"Sab khairiyat se ho jaye, aur ye humare ghar ki bahu ban jaye," Mom said hopefully looking in her phone.

"Ameen, ameen," Nirvan replied dramatically.

"Ughh but Imagine kisi ko yeh dirty, smelly sock milga," Kashish said, pointing towards me.

"Jo bhi ho, bas koi tamasha na ho," Dad said, looking straight at me.

I simply pulled out my phone and started scrolling, pretending to be busy. It was easier than participating in conversations I'd never wanted to be a part of.

Thankfully, the house wasn't too far away. About an hour later, our car slowed down in front of a large bungalow. It was a nice place—well-maintained, expensive, and exactly the kind of house you'd expect from a family looking for a suitable groom. As the car entered through the gates, they automatically swung open. We stepped out one by one, and I immediately noticed five people waiting outside to welcome us. Two women, who looked like house helpers, stood holding flower bouquets, while three others greeted us with warm smiles and folded hands.

"Aane mein dikkat toh nahi huyi?" one of the women asked politely. She looked like the girl's mother. God... I didn't even know the girl's name. Standing beside her was another girl who looked much younger, probably still in her teens.

"Nahi nahi..." Mom replied with a warm smile.

The two fathers exchanged handshakes while Nirvan and Kashish bent down to touch the elders' feet. The house helpers handed everyone flowers as part of the welcome. I stayed where I was, standing quietly at the back with my hands tucked inside my pockets, waiting for this entire thing to get over as quickly as possible so I could leave. Nobody talks about how awkward these meetings actually are. You're expected to stand there smiling while complete strangers silently judge whether you're worthy enough to become a part of their family.

For a moment, the entire place fell silent.

I looked up.

Everyone was staring at me.

Right.

I was supposed to do something.

I decided to do everyone a favour. Instead of forcing fake enthusiasm, I simply offered a small smile and gave them a polite nod. That was enough. I don't believe in trying to impress people who hold no real value in my life. My time is too precious for that, and honestly, a nod from me is already more respect than most people earn.

"Chaliye, andar chalte hain," someone said, breaking the silence.

We all walked inside. The house felt pleasant... in a way I'd never want to experience again. There were flowers everywhere, polished wooden furniture in every corner, and the entire place was far too open for my liking. Personally, I hated open layouts. I liked walls, closed spaces, and privacy. Whoever had designed this interior clearly had very different taste from mine. Seriously, who willingly lives in a house where everyone can see everyone all the time?

We settled into the living room, and within minutes the usual formalities began. Snacks were served while everyone introduced themselves, laughed politely, and started making conversation. Every now and then someone would ask me a question, and I'd answer with one or two words at most before subtly nudging Nirvan to take over. Like the professional yapper he was, he'd immediately jump into the conversation, keeping everyone entertained while I happily faded into the background.

Exactly where I wanted to be.

"Meri wife pregnant hain, warna woh bhi aati aaj," Nirvan said with a smile.

"Oh, congratulations on that!" the lady replied warmly.

"Haan, ek already hai, do babies plan kare the."

"Aaj kal toh sabke do hi bachche hote hain."

"Ji, ji... woh kahawat hai na, do bachche hain meethi kheer, usse zyada bheed," he said confidently.

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire room fell silent.

Even my heart stopped for a second.

Damn.

The teenage girl, however, burst into laughter.

"Mujhe laga bawaseer bolenge!" she blurted out without thinking.

The words had barely left her mouth when the smile disappeared from her face. Realization hit her instantly. She looked around at everyone's expressions before awkwardly clearing her throat.

"Main na... Kuku ko leke aati hoon," she mumbled, getting up so quickly that she almost tripped over the carpet before rushing out of the room.

"Kids these days... you know," the lady said with an embarrassed smile, trying to save the situation.

"Sach mein," Mom agreed immediately. "Aaj kal ke bachchon ko koi farak hi nahi padta. Bas apni man-marziyan chalni hain har jagah."

I stayed quiet, letting the conversation continue around me while I patiently waited for this entire circus to end.

A few moments later, I heard the soft sound of bangles clinking together.

It was faint at first.

Then came the delicate chime of anklets.

Almost instinctively, my eyes shifted towards the entrance.

She walked in slowly, carefully balancing a tray in her hands.

For the first time since we'd arrived... I actually looked up.

She was wearing a dark bluish-green saree that contrasted beautifully against her skin. Her hair, styled in soft curls, fell all the way down to her waist, swaying gently with every step she took. A few loose strands framed her face, making her look effortlessly graceful rather than overly dressed up for the occasion.

Then my gaze landed on her eyes.

They were light blue...

Or maybe grey.

One of those colours that changed depending on the light.

And she looked so...

"Yeh hai Prakriti," her mother said proudly as she got up and walked towards her, gently taking the tray from her hands.

Prakriti quietly began serving tea to everyone.

She started with Dad.

Then Mom.

Nirvan.

Kashish.

And finally...

Me.

As she came closer, I noticed something no one else probably would have.

Her hands were trembling.

Not a lot.

Just enough for someone who paid attention to small details to notice.

Unfortunately for her...

I did.

She was holding the saucer right at its edge, her fingers carefully placed so there wouldn't be even the slightest accidental touch between us while handing me the cup.

Interesting.

"Shh..." Kashish nudged my elbow. "Lo na..."

Her whisper pulled me out of my thoughts.

I blinked, realizing I'd been staring for a second too long.

Quickly, I reached out and took the cup from her.

"Thank you," I said almost absentmindedly.

She simply nodded.

No eye contact.

Not even for a second.

She quietly walked away after serving everyone else.

And for some reason...

I wasn't looking away.

Great.

Now I was cursing myself for wearing the stupid all-white outfit.

Should've worn the black shirt.

At least I would've looked decent.

"Aap bura na maane toh... yeh dono bhi thodi der akele baat kar lein?" Mom suggested with a smile.

Love you, Mom.

For the first time today, she'd said something useful.

"Uh..." Her mother exchanged a brief glance with the others before giving a slightly awkward smile.

"Haan ji, bilkul," her father replied. "Prakriti, aap Chirag ko garden dikha dijiye."

Love you, Uncle.

She gave a small nod and quietly stood up.

I got up right after her.

Without saying anything, she started walking ahead, and I followed.

"Kuku!" her mother suddenly called out.

Prakriti stopped and looked back.

Her mother made a small hand gesture.

For a second, I didn't understand what it meant.

Prakriti did.

She quietly grabbed the loose end of her saree—the pallu that had been resting over her shoulder—and pulled it around herself properly, making sure it covered her back before turning around again.

Oh...

Without another word, she continued walking towards the garden, and I followed a few steps behind.

The silence between us stretched for a while.

Neither of us seemed eager to break it.

Finally, deciding someone had to break the silence, I took the initiative.

"Aap achi lag rahi hain," I said.

She looked up at me for the first time, and our eyes met. They were grey. Not the dull kind, but the soft, cloudy grey that almost looked silver under light. For a brief second, she simply looked at me before her gaze travelled over my outfit. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she gave me a shy nod before looking away again. Her fingers instinctively found the end of her pallu, absentmindedly twisting the fabric between them.

"Aapko chai pasand aayi?" she asked.

Her voice was... unexpectedly soft. Calm. The kind of voice that made you pay attention without trying to.

"Haan, bohot. Aapne banayi thi?"

She looked back at me and nodded, this time with a tiny smile that reached her eyes.

"Haan."

"Bohot achi thi."

Her smile grew just a little wider. It wasn't exaggerated, just enough to tell that the compliment had genuinely made her happy.

"Toh... aapki birthplace...?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yahin hai," I replied, pointing towards the grass beneath our feet.

She immediately looked down at the lawn.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

"Nahi... mera matlab Delhi."

She looked back at me, realization washing over her face.

"Oh..." she laughed nervously. "Achha... meri bhi... same."

The conversation fell quiet again as we continued walking through the garden.

"Hobbies?" I asked.

She copied my earlier gesture and pointed towards the grass.

"Yahi."

This time it was my turn to look down.

The moment I realized what she'd done I looked back up, she covered her face for a second and laughed softly.

"Matlab gardening... painting... drawing... art... nature se related sab, I love nature."

Her cheeks had turned pink by the time she finished speaking.

"I love nature too," I said. "Honestly, I think it's the best source of happiness."

"Sach mein?" Her face lit up instantly, the excitement slipping out before she could hide it again. A second later she composed herself, lowering her eyes with an embarrassed smile.

"But... kabhi kabhi wish karti hoon ki main bhi koi instrument play kar paati."

"Haan, but bade hone ke baad time kahan milta hai," I replied, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"Aapne bachpan mein seekhe the?" she asked.

"Kya?"

"Instruments... musical instruments."

I frowned.

"Woh... biodata mein likha tha..." she said cautiously, glancing up at me. "That you know how to play all musical instruments..."

Bloody fucking asshole, Nirvan.

He actually wrote that.

"Haan... matlab, kaafi time se sab band hai. Bas kaam mein busy rehta hoon," I replied, hoping the conversation would move on.

She was quiet for a moment. There was something thoughtful about the way she looked at me, as if she were trying to match the person standing in front of her with the one she'd read about on paper.

Then, almost absentmindedly, she asked, "Aap Kadupul bhi baja lete hain?"

"Haan," I answered without a second thought. "Woh bhi."

She simply nodded.

There wasn't even a hint of surprise on her face.

Just a tiny smile.

It was so small that I almost missed it.

"Aap kya kaam karte hain?" she asked, changing the topic as naturally as if nothing had happened.

"Wahi... family business hai."

"Kis cheez ka?"

What am I supposed to say? CEO of Organized Crime Pvt. Ltd.?

"Imports-exports," I replied.

"Hmm..." she nodded once again, not asking any more questions.

"Aur ap?"

"Main..."

"Kuku di! Aa jao, sab bula rahe hain!" her younger sister called her.

"Chaliye," Prakriti said softly before walking past me.

I walked behind her in silence.

By the time we stepped back into the living room, everyone was already on their feet, exchanging handshakes and polite smiles.

The usual "phir milte hain" had begun, and families were thanking each other for their hospitality. My eyes instinctively wandered towards Prakriti's family.

Her father looked as courteous as ever, her younger sister was back to smiling as though she hadn't almost embarrassed herself a few minutes ago, but her mother... her mother looked relieved. Actually relieved. Like she was glad the meeting was finally over. And that's when it hit me.

I'd done exactly what I'd come here to do. I'd ruined my impression. They probably thought I was arrogant, disinterested, and completely unsuitable for their daughter. That had been the plan from the very beginning.

The only problem was... Now I actually want to marry her.

A few minutes later, we said our goodbyes and walked back towards the car. I couldn't help but glance back once before getting in. Prakriti was still standing at the entrance with her family, quietly watching us leave. The moment our eyes almost met, She looked away first and then I got into the car. The drive back started in complete silence. No one said a word. The disappointment inside the car was almost tangible until Kashish finally broke it.

"Kaisi lagi ladki?" she asked.

Before I could even correct her—ladki nahi... Prakriti. She had a beautiful name.

"Waise, Chirag ji," Nirvan spoke before I could answer, "bataya nahi ki aapko future bhi dikhta hai."

"Kuch bhi."

"Nahi matlab, aaj jo maut hui hai aapki izzat ki... uske hisaab se kapde ekdum sahi pehne the."

He burst into laughter. Kashish joined him almost instantly, and within seconds, even Mom and Dad were smiling.

I shot him an irritated look. "Tumne kya bakwaas likhi thi biodata mein? Ki main saare musical instruments bajata hoon?"

"Kuch bakwaas nahi thi," he replied shamelessly. "Sab log biodata mein thoda bohot jhooth likhte hain."

"Haan, toh ek-do instruments likh deta. Who the fuck writes all?"

"Toh konsa tabla bajwa liya unhone?" he said with a shrug.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Mom spoke before I could.

"Fark kya padta hai? Waise bhi baat aage nahi badhegi."

Her tone was oddly certain.

I frowned and turned towards her.

"Kyun nahi badhegi?"

Everybody looked at me.

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Okay, first of all, I wrote all of this in, like, a day or two, so don't judge 😭 Legit raat ko idea aaya, 3 baje tak baithke pura plot banaya, aur next day 6k words likh diye. Pehli baar aisa hua hai ki pure plot ke baad bhi book ka naam socha hai. Also, for some absolutely ridiculous reason, book ke notifications aane mein problem ho rahi hai, so main har baar message board par bhi bataungi. Follow me or check every day, whatever suits you (if I were you I'd follow).

AND NEW READERS, HI! 😭

Main haath jod rahi hoon, pair pakad rahi hoon... BHEEK MANG RAHI HON! Please Nirvan ki book mat padhna agar tum soft romance readers ho.

Just...

No.

Don't.

Save yourselves.

Now, all that being said...

Author signing in 🎬