The next afternoon, Ram arrived at Tripura’s hotel suite promptly at 4 PM, carrying a notebook, two pens, and a slightly mischievous grin that hinted he was looking forward to this “lesson” far more than he should have.
When Tripura opened the door, her expression was one of faint bemusement. “What’s with the notebook?”
“Study session,” Ram quipped, waving it as if it were self - explanatory. He stepped inside confidently, heading straight for the plush sofa. “If we’re going to fool everyone, we might as well be prepared.”
Tripura shut the door with a sigh. Dressed in a simple yet elegant teal kurti, her minimal makeup and neatly tied hair gave her an air of understated grace. “You really think this is something to joke about?”
“I think,” Ram replied, settling in comfortably, “that if we’re going to pull this off, we should have fun while doing it.”
Tripura sat opposite him, her posture as composed as ever. “We’ll see how much fun you’re having when Dadi starts asking personal questions.”
Ram smirked, unaffected by her dry tone. “Relax, Mrs. Kapoor. We’ve been through tougher things. Pretending to be in love should be a breeze.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Kapoor. This isn’t about pretending. It’s about respecting your family’s expectations, no matter how... unconventional this marriage is.”
His smirk faltered slightly, her sincerity catching him off guard. He nodded, his tone softening. “You’re right. I’ll behave.”
“Good,” she said briskly. “Let’s begin. Where do we start?”
Ram flipped open the notebook theatrically. “Alright. Chapter One: How We Fell in Love After Marriage.”
Tripura gave him a look. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
He chuckled. “Come on. It’s a unique story. Arranged marriage to love marriage — it’s what romantic dramas are made of. So, tell me, Mrs. Kapoor, what moment made you realize you were in love with me?”
Tripura blinked, her cheeks heating slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he teased, leaning forward with that infuriating grin. “If we’re going to convince Dadi, we need a solid story. Who fell first? How did it happen?”
“I think it’s safe to assume you fell first,” Tripura retorted, lifting her chin slightly.
“Oh?” he said, pretending to be wounded. “What makes you so sure?”
She shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s just logical. You’re charming, yes, but beneath all that charm, you couldn’t resist my... intellect and poise.”
Ram’s laughter was immediate and contagious, his head tilting back as he enjoyed her audacious response.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said, still grinning. “But fine. I fell first. How did I fall for you? Was it the way you argue with me in meetings? Or maybe that scary death glare of yours?”
“Very funny,” she replied, though her lips twitched slightly.
“Alright, let’s say I fell for your intelligence first,” Ram continued, jotting it down with exaggerated seriousness. “And you fell for my...?” He trailed off, waiting expectantly.
“I haven’t fallen,” she deadpanned, folding her arms.
“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “My poor heart.”
YOU ARE READING
Layers of Us
Narrativa generaleIn a world where tradition dictates the heart, Tripura Nagrajan finds herself trapped in an arranged marriage she never wanted. A compassionate soul with a passion for animals and a thriving career as a psychologist, actress, and business tycoon, T...
