BOOK ONE OF THE SWEET AND SOUR SERIES
Vanya Sharma hated marriages. Growing up seeing troubled and failed marriages carved a bitter spot in her heart, especially when one of them belonged to her parents. While escaping the shadows of her past, she f...
The morning has barely started, and I'm already regretting stepping out of the house. Seriously, who decided weddings should come with extended post-game commentary? If I had known everyone in the office would suddenly transform into Sherlock Holmes and Watson, I might've invested in some dark sunglasses and a hood.
As I walk through the hallway, the usual greetings are paired with wide-eyed stares. Every "Good morning, Vanya!" is followed by a second, longer glance, this time aimed at my jingling bangles or the mangal sutra around my neck.
It's as if my accessories are screaming, 'LOOK! SHE GOT MARRIED!' Like I needed the constant reminder. I tug at my dupatta, attempting to look casual, but I know I'm failing miserably.
"Vanya ma'am, how are you?" Mahi, the intern pipes up, her eyes practically glued to my neck. God, these people need hobbies.
I'm fabulous, thank you very much, if you ignore the fact that I now live with a man whose default expression makes my milk curdle.
I mumble something polite and escape to my cabin before she can ask any more questions. Closing the door, I drop my bag on the desk and sigh, the sound dragging out as if I'm auditioning for a dramatic soap opera.
My mind wanders back to the breakfast table this morning. Moksh, ever the ray of sunshine, showed up with more 'important things' sent by Mahir's mother. The man really acts like Amazon Prime on legs. Then he sat himself down at the table like it was his house, happily chomping on a tofu sandwich while chatting away about god knows what.
And then he showed up, with his customary black coffee and that glare. It's a glare so intense I'm convinced he's trying to deduct IQ points with it. As Moksh asked him if he wanted some breakfast, I swear Mahir looked one step away from asking for my resignation as his fake wife.
The memory is interrupted when there's a knock at my door, and Swati Ma'am peeks in with a grin that screams, 'I have gossip radar, and it's picking YOU up.'
"Congratulations, Vanya! Married life, huh? Didn't see that coming!" she says. Of course, you didn't, ma'am, because I too had no idea that life was going to U-turn into Shaadi Mein Zaroor Aana.
"Thanks," I manage to reply with a forced smile. My lips ache from the sheer effort.
"So," she starts, leaning against my desk like we're in some post-breakup support group. "What's your husband like? What does he do?"
"Oh, it's an arranged marriage," I cut in quickly because the last thing I need is this conversation veering toward 'Oh my god, you married THE Mahir Oberoi?!' "You know how families are. He's just...adjusting to me. I'm adjusting to him."
