UNWILLINGLY HIS

The Drama Script

The next morning, Samaira walks into the living room, already dressed and ready to leave. Her eyes meet Advait, who is lounging on the couch, his attention on his phone. The moment she steps in, his gaze flicks up, his sharp eyes locking onto her.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks, his tone casual but probing.

Samaira pauses mid-step, not surprised by his sudden inquiry. She knows exactly what he's trying to do—keep tabs on her, even now. Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms, a smirk forming on her lips. "Is this question really necessary, Advait?" she replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You already know that the moment I step out of this house, your guards will start following me around like shadows, reporting every little thing I do to you. So I’m sure you’ll know exactly where I am."

Advait chuckles, not a trace of annoyance on his face. He seems genuinely amused by her attitude. “True,” he says, his voice still light, “but I’m in a good mood today. So, I’ll let it slide. Anyway, Aahana’s waiting for me outside, so let’s get to the point. I’m going to the school reunion today.”

He can see the flash of realization cross her face, and she raises an eyebrow. “A reunion, huh?” she says with a shrug, trying to sound unaffected, but the glint in her eyes betrays her excitement.

Advait, ever the playful adversary, leans forward slightly. "Doesn’t your husband need to accompany you to this reunion? After all, your friends will certainly ask about him. Or am I not invited to this little party?" he teases, the corner of his lips curling into a playful smile.

Samaira lets out a breath, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Oh, for sure, thanks to your grand announcement to the world. But don’t worry about it, Advait. I’ll just tell them that you’re ‘busy’ with work.” She pauses for a moment before adding, “You really shouldn’t worry about such trivial things. I’m sure you’ve got other ‘important’ matters to attend to.”

But Advait isn’t done yet. He leans back, his tone turning more teasing. “What if they ask you more personal questions? Like—oh, I don’t know—if you really married me for my money, and if things are as perfect between us as they seem? What if they suggest that you’ve been caught in some kind of loveless marriage for the sake of convenience?”

Samaira, in the middle of fixing her shoes, freezes for a second, eyes wide with disbelief. She turns to him with an almost exasperated look. “Advait, are you trying to write a drama script or what?” she asks, almost incredulously.

“Oh, come on, we’ve seen this kind of scene before,” he replies, leaning forward with a smirk. “Remember when we watched those soap operas together? The drama scripts practically wrote themselves.”

Samaira narrows her eyes as she starts to play along, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “So, if I follow the script, then they’ll probably ask me to pay the hotel bill, right? Just to satisfy their petty little egos, and then I’d fail at it—"

"And I’d come to the rescue," Advait interrupts smoothly, his voice dropping into a mock-heroic tone. “With a grand entrance, of course, shutting them all up.”

Samaira grins, but it’s tinged with sarcasm. “I know how the story goes. You’ll step in with that signature mafia swagger of yours, all calm and controlled. You’ll say some cliché lines, like how you love me and will tolerate no one insulting me. And of course, you’ll make sure to mention that you’d never let anyone hurt me or even think about insulting me.”

Advait raises an eyebrow. “Go on. You know exactly what I’d say.”

Samaira shakes her head, amused. “You’d probably say something like, ‘I won’t let anyone insult my wife,’ or ‘No one disrespects my queen.’ You’d make it sound so dramatic, but we both know it’s all just words.”

Advait grins. “True. But in the moment, they’d believe it.”

“You know,” Samaira mutters, rolling her eyes, “I can’t even imagine hearing lines like that coming from a mafia boss.” Her voice carries a touch of disbelief, but there’s a hint of amusement too.

“But, for your information, this is real life,” Samaira continues, her voice firm, and she straightens up. “And I won’t let you paint my friends as these ‘evil characters’ from your so-called movie world. I’m Samaira Singhania, remember? The eldest daughter of the Singhania family. I’m capable of paying for a hotel bill myself—no matter how expensive it is. And if I really wanted to, I could buy the entire hotel and shut them down.”

Advait’s smile fades just for a moment, his expression shifting into something a little more serious, but he quickly masks it. “You were the one who taught me that,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reflecting on something deeper.

Samaira crosses her arms, her tone growing a little more playful again. “Jokes aside, Advait, if I feel like I need you(which I don't think would happen), remember—you’re just a call away. But for now, I think I can handle myself.”

Advait leans back, his eyes locking onto hers with an almost unreadable intensity. “You’ll be fine, Samaira. But if anything happens, anything at all, you know I’ll be there. I won’t let anyone ruin your holiday.”

Samaira smirks, tilting her head. “You know what? To spice things up a bit, maybe I’ll give you the grand entrance you’ve been waiting for. I can already picture it—me, having a great time with my friends, and then suddenly—boom—terrorist attack. You, entering the scene like the hero—or villain, depending on how you look at it. And you’d save the day, of course, with your ruthless precision.” She pauses, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe then, they’ll make you their head after seeing how ‘efficient’ you are.”

Advait chuckles darkly, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. “I like the sound of that. And I won’t spare them for ruining your holiday. They’ll regret crossing me.”

“But, if they even dare lay a finger on you,” he adds, his voice becoming cold and threatening, “I won’t hesitate before wiping out their entire organization, like they never even existed. You know I can do it.”

Samaira’s pulse quickens at the dark undertone in his voice. She knows he might be joking, but the way he says it—the steel in his tone—makes her wonder. Is he really joking?

She swallows hard but doesn’t let her unease show. “Goodbye, Advait,” she says, quickly turning away and heading for the door. The sound of his voice stops her just before she leaves.

“Samaira, don’t forget. I’m always a call away,” he says, his voice soft but carrying a weight to it that she knows she can’t ignore.

Samaira hesitates for a moment, her back to him. She doesn’t turn around. “I know,” she whispers before walking out of the room, leaving Advait behind in the quiet.