Arranged

Prologue

The rain had been falling for hours. The courtyard outside was a blur of water, the air thick with the smell of wet earth. Ananya stood at the edge of the veranda, clutching the dupatta at her shoulder, trying to steady her breathing.

"You can't keep doing this," she said quietly.

From behind her, his voice came - calm, almost too calm. "Doing what?"

"Pretending you don't care when you do. Pretending this... us... doesn't matter."

He took a step closer, and she felt the warmth of his presence even through the cold dampness around them. "And you? You've spent every day pretending you're here just because your mother chose me. Tell me, Ananya, if it had been anyone else... would you still be standing here?"

She turned to face him then, her eyes meeting his. There was no malice there, no sharpness - only something unbearably raw.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered. "We both know why we're here. We both agreed."

"That's the problem," he said. "We agreed to survive this, not to live it."

For a moment, the only sound was the rain hitting the tin roof above. Somewhere inside the house, a door banged shut.

Ananya felt the words rising in her throat - words she'd never let herself say - but before she could speak, he shook his head.

"Don't," he said softly. "Not unless you're ready for me to believe you."

The rain kept falling. She looked away first.

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