“Well, obviously. I couldn’t just say yes based only on what my mother said. I loveMaa, but she can be naïve sometimes,” I explain. I know it’s unfair that I know almost everything about Shivani while she knows practically nothing about me—but I’m ready to answer anything she asks. Not that I care about fairness, but she’s my fiancée. That means something. That means she should know anything and everything about me.
They laugh again, clearly entertained by the situation. They know I’m not marrying for love, just obligation. We’ve been friends since forever—they get me better than anyone else.
“So, when do we get to meet this ‘not that bad’ girl?” Aryan asks with a sarcastic tone as he plops down on the couch in my office while Siddhant trails over to the glass window.
“Listen, she’s going to be my wife. If either of you says anything to her—or about her—that displeases me, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Threat lies beneath my words, but they clearly ignore the hint.
“Whoa, someone’s suddenly all protective about his bride-to-be. What happened, huh? Fell in love with the ‘not that bad’ girl, and now you’re all possessive?” They sing in chorus. I roll my eyes again and return to my laptop.
“Dude, at least tell us when we’re meeting her.” Aryan asks again.
“I’ll let you know. Now get lost.” I mutter and shift my focus to my laptop.
They groan dramatically before finally taking the hint and walking out. Their curiosity is definitely piqued, but I’m not ready to share much yet. They’re my childhood best friends—but somehow, also the stupidest people I know. I already know they’re going to tease me endlessly.
My mind doesn’t return to work; instead, it drifts back to her—Shivani. Her soft voice, the way she looked lost in my home office, that moment of vulnerability. Strange. I don’t do feelings, but something about her lingers. Irritatingly so. I pick up my phone before I can talk myself out of it and dial her number, suddenly desperate to hear her voice.
The phone rings a few times before she picks up, and her voice is soft but warm. “Hello?”
A wave of contentment washes over me at the sound of her voice. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It’s like just hearing her speak calms something inside me. “Hello, Shivani. How are you?” I try to keep my tone neutral, though I want to keep her on the phone for as long as possible.
“Um… I’m good,” she whispers, so quiet I can barely hear her.
That brief moment of peace I felt vanishes in an instant. Her voice is barely audible—no warmth, no emotion. Just a robotic, rehearsed response. For a second, I even wonder if I dialed the wrong number. Still, I decide to be patient. No point in getting angry.
“How are you?” she asks after a beat of silence.
Before I can answer, she says, “I have to go. I’m really sorry—I’ll call you back.”
Something’s definitely off. She sounds scared. Maybe someone’s around her. But why would she be scared talking to me? I’m her fiancé.
“Please, Father, I didn’t know…” Her broken voice comes through the line.
“Mother didn’t say anything about it. They asked me; I had to say something.”
“You useless dumb bitch.” I hear Ranveer’s voice in the background, and my stomach twists. I hear static blurring the voice until I clearly hear his voice again.
“I needed the publicity. That’s why you’re marrying Rudraksh. I don’t give a shit what kind of marriage you want. I WANTED THE MEDIA THERE!” His voice booms through the phone. There’s a loud crash, like glass shattering. Shivani gasps. Then silence. The call disconnects. Then silence. The line goes dead.
I stare at the screen in shock, my heart pounding in my ears. A flood of panic surges through me. I call her again—it goes straight to voicemail. I try once more. Nothing. I pace across my office, fists clenched, mind racing. I hate feeling this way—worried, helpless.
Did she lie to me? To all of us? Was she just a pawn in her parents’ game? I want to be angry—hell, I am angry—but more than that, I’m worried. Because if she’s really in danger, then nothing else matters. Not lies. Not arrangements. Not even betrayal. Just her. My finger tightens around my phone as I stare back at the screen, more like glaring.
She’s mine. My fiancée. The thought of her in danger triggers something in me I didn’t know existed. I storm out of my office and call my driver to get the car ready. Before I can reach the elevator, my phone rings—her name flashes across the screen.
“Hi, I’m sorry I had to cut the call. My mom had called me,” she says.
She’s lying. I know exactly why she had to cut the call. My jaw clenches and a vein throbs in my temple—I hate lies. She doesn’t know I heard everything. But she still sounds scared, so I don’t call her out on it. Not now.
“Are you coming tonight? My friends want to meet you,” I say, trying to stay calm, taking slow, deep breaths.
“Of course I’m coming,” she says with a light laugh, though it sounds forced. “Like I’d miss my own mehndi ceremony.”
Good. I’m glad she’s coming. Because tonight, I want answers. And I won’t stop until I get them.
09
SHIVANI
