𝙎𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙮𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙡𝙮𝙖 and 𝘼𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙫𝙞 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙙𝙞, business rivals and family friends, are forced into an arranged marriage. Bound by family duty, they must uncover hidden truths while navigating their explosive chemistry. Will their...
Honestly this chapter is lowkey a filler but I felt sometimes we need a few laid back happy chapters. Waise bhi I'm saving some fun for the wedding day🥰 (kalesh karwaungi tab). Also y'all better share your review and vote. I see you
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“Ro, pleaseee, I need another pillow,” I say, drawing out the “please” as dramatically as possible.
Ruhanika just nods as she moves effortlessly through the crowded room, balancing a sari, a cat in his second outfit change of the day, and a mischievous little Veer, who’s toddling around clutching her pallu like it’s his lifeline. Watching her makes me shake my head in awe.
She’s somehow managing all the wedding chaos with poise, while here I sit, dolled up like a “blushing bride”, if that’s what I’m supposed to be and barely able to keep from fidgeting in my spot as the henna artist works.
“God, it would’ve been so much easier if we’d just eloped and had a white wedding somewhere quiet,” I mutter to myself, shifting uncomfortably. The heavy dupatta keeps poking me in the shoulder, and the elaborate lehenga feels like it’s pulling me down with every second.
And to top it all off, I can’t seem to escape the feeling of Shriyan’s eyes on me. He’s somewhere nearby, watching me like he’s trying to solve a Rubik's cube, dissecting me with that unsettling intensity he’s mastered.
If I’d known this whole arranged-marriage circus would turn into such a spectacle, I probably would’ve sprinted in the opposite direction.
But here I am, playing “the bride,” expected to smile serenely and sit still, letting nosy relatives and a team of henna artists debate whether my mehndi design should “symbolize love, tradition, or the initials of my dear fiancé.” I glance up as Ruhanika finally returns with two extra pillows and a tall glass of what I hope is something spiked.
“Ahh, finally,” I sigh with relief, eyeing the glass. “Please tell me it has alcohol—I need it.”
Ruhanika shoots me a horrified look, raising an eyebrow. “You serious? Abe o, nashedi, you’re the bride! Besides, you and Shriyan still have a puja and a hundred other rituals. I got all the alcohol cleared out of here—you’re not making me babysit you guys again. Remember our farewell? Hard pass.” (You serious? Ms. Alcoholic, you’re the bride! Besides, you and Shriyan still have a puja and a hundred other rituals. I got all the alcohol cleared out of here—you’re not making me babysit you guys again. Remember our farewell? Hard pass.)
“Oh, come on,” I mutter, trying to pout but ending up laughing at the memory of our graduation farewell party. A total disaster—everyone but Ro had ended up singing loud, badly off-key Bollywood songs, and I had somehow ended up draped over a sofa, pretending to be a kala chashma star.
“Well, don’t act all high and mighty,” I tease, nudging her as she hands me the juice. “The only reason you didn’t join in was because you were sixteen. Too young to drink, if I remember correctly. You were our baby graduate”
