My eyes widen. Did he just hand me an unlimited credit card without hesitation?
“What? You’re my fiancée, aren’t you? From now on, I will pay for everything.” He sees me hesitate and gently pushes the card closer to me.
“You think I can’t pay for my own stuff?” I ask, my voice rises before I can stop it. I know I don’t have my own money—but still, it is borderline offensive.
He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that rumbles from his chest. “Someone’s feeling feisty.”
“It’s not about what I think,” he adds. “As your fiancé, it’s my right to spoil you rotten. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You get whatever you want, Shivani.” My cheeks go warm at his words. I look down at the card to hide my face, and the black surface gleams under the light.
When I glance back at him, he’s smirking. One corner of his mouth lifts in a confident, playful expression. His eyes glint with amusement and challenge—as if daring me to push back the card to him.
I like it. I like him. He isn’t the cold, ruthless man I saw in the photos. This is someone else—someone I want to know more about. Someone I will be willing to share my life with. I give him a shy smile.
“Do you want to eat something? You can order,” he questions and then suggests with a small nod of his head.
“I have a meeting in an hour, so I’ll need to leave.” Disappointment bubbles up in me as I hear his words. But I check myself. He’s not here to chat with me all day, and it’s only been—what, an hour since we met?
But I also feel a weird sense of relief. I hate eating in front of people. It makes me uncomfortable. I always feel judged—because I’m fat, I shouldn’t eat too much. But food brings me joy. So I eat.
“No, thank you. I already ate at home,” I say, offering a tight-lipped smile.
“Alright then. How about I walk you to the car?” he asks. I nod and stand up.
Wow.
He'stall, too tall. I have to raise my head to see him.
He walks beside me, but his pace is fast. Too fast for me, and I struggle to keep up. Almost as if sensing it, he slows down.
Then, he stops. Pocketing his phone, he turns toward me and takes my hand, holding it firmly in his. His eyes meet mine, unwavering. I try to look away, but he tilts my chin up with his thumb, forcing me to hold his gaze. His eyes are... enchanting.
He leans in and whispers as softly as he could, “You will always walk beside me, Shivani. Maybe even ahead of me. But never behind.”
He’s still holding on to what I said earlier. When I told him I would walk behind him. Heremembered. And for some reason, tears sting my eyes. His warm hand engulfs mine in a gentle but firm grip.
They say he’s rude. Ruthless. But it’s hard to believe that now. Because standing in front of me is a man who treats me like a human being. The only one who does. And so, we walk hand in hand. His grip is firm, unyielding. And all I can do is follow his lead. Admire him.
I think you’ll be alright, Shivani.
05
SHIVANI
I twist my dupatta as I give one last glance to myself. I’m going shopping today for the wedding. My palms are sweaty as I rub them against my thigh. Obviously, my mother is accompanying me. Rudraksh’s mother, his aunt, and his cousin-sister will be joining us directly at the mall.
I’ve met his mother before, but this will be my first time meeting his aunt and sister, and, as usual, I’m nervous. Unlike me, Rudraksh lives in a joint family—his parents, his aunt and uncle, their two children, and his grandfather. I haven’t met everyone yet, so the plan is to stop by his house after shopping so I can meet the whole family.
The thought makes me incredibly anxious. What if they don’t like me? What if I mess it all up? What if everyone there humiliates me? I don’t know how to impress people or make conversation. I’ve never really had friends. Well, partly because I was never allowed to invite anyone over or visit others except if it benefitted my parents somehow, so who would want to be friends with someone like that? I get it—it’s not really anyone’s fault.
My gaze lingers on my body. I’m wearing a red cotton kurti because it’s hot, and we’ll be walking around a lot.
Quickly, I tie my hair up and glance in the mirror. The heat alone is enough to kill me—I don’t even know how people expect me to wear a heavy lehenga for the wedding. Anyway, I don’t have a choice, do I?
My mother barges into the room, scans me from head to toe, then says sweetly, “You look okay. Just make sure you behave nicely today, Shivani.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, as always.
“They’re here, and they’ve insisted on spending time with you alone. So, I won’t be going with you,” she adds, her tone sugary but her gaze sharp as daggers.
“You know what’ll happen if something goes wrong, don’t you, darling?” The threat lies beneath her words.
