Dharini's PoV

"Sorry..." I said, rubbing my forehead as if that would somehow fix what I'd just heard. "I think I heard everything wrong. Could you please repeat that?"

He leaned forward slightly, his expression completely serious.

"You didn't hear anything wrong," he said calmly. "You heard exactly what I said."

He paused deliberately before adding,

"You have to marry me."

"What?!" I shot up from my chair so abruptly that it almost fell backward.

Thank God we were seated in the VIP section and there was no one else around.

Otherwise, anyone watching would've thought I'd lost my mind.

"Aap kya keh rahe hain? Aapko khud pata hai aap kya bol rahe hain? Sha... shaadi? Main... aapse?"

(What are you saying? Do you even know what you're saying? Ma... marriage? Me... with you?)

I pointed at myself and then at him, my brain refusing to process his words.

He remained completely calm.

"Haan. Aap mujhse."

(Yes. You. With me.)

As if he had just asked me to sign a document instead of proposing marriage.

I slowly sat back down and took a deep breath.

"Sir, this is a good joke," I said, trying my best to stay calm despite my rising blood pressure. "But don't you think we've known each other for far too little time for a joke like this?"

I continued patiently,

"We've only known each other for one week... and out of those seven days, I was on leave for four. According to that calculation, I've known you properly for only two days."

I looked straight into his eyes.

"And after meeting someone for only two days, making such a cheap and ridiculous joke is not funny at all."

He listened quietly.

Then he nodded.

"Sahi kaha tumne. Waise sirf do din milkar aisa ghatiya mazaak nahi karte."

(You're right. People don't make such ridiculous jokes after knowing someone for only two days.)

Relief instantly washed over me.

Finally.

My blood pressure, which had been rising continuously, settled for a brief moment.

Then...

He calmly destroyed that relief.

"Par tumse kisne kaha ki main mazaak kar raha hoon? Infact... parso hamari shaadi hai."

(But who told you I was joking? In fact... we're getting married the day after tomorrow.)

For a second...

Everything around me turned red.

I shot up from my chair again, raising both my hands to slam them onto the table in frustration.

But before my palms could hit the table, he quickly placed both his hands beneath mine.

The unexpected touch instantly stiffened my entire body.

Every muscle froze.

My breathing became uneven.

My eyes immediately dropped to where our hands had touched.

Then they slowly lifted to meet his gaze. He was already looking directly into my eyes. That intense stare felt as though it was boring holes through me.

Without wasting another second, I jerked my hands away from his.

Taking two steps back, I glared at him.

"Sach sach batao... kaunsa sasta nasha kiya hai tumne?"

(Tell me honestly... what cheap intoxication have you taken?)

To my utter disbelief...

He chuckled.

Actually chuckled.

Seriously?

This man thought dropping a bomb like 'We're getting married in two days' was funny?

Saand.

No...

Laal saand.

(Bull... no, a red bull.)

He looked at me calmly and continued as if nothing unusual had happened.

"Main tumhe inform kar raha hoon. Parso hamari shaadi hai. Aur kal hum shaadi ki shopping ke liye jaa rahe hain. Tum apni pasand ka lehenga le lena shaadi mein pehenne ke liye."

(I'm informing you. We're getting married the day after tomorrow. And tomorrow we're going shopping for the wedding. You can choose whatever lehenga you want to wear.)

"Enough!"

I immediately picked up my phone.

"Ooo... thahar jao! Kya shaadi? Tumhara bas chale toh tum bachche bhi yahin paida karwa do! Aur kisi bakwaas ki bhi hadd hoti hai, aur tum woh hadd paar kar rahe ho. Maine tumse koi shaadi-vaadi nahi karni!"

(Stop right there! What marriage? If it were up to you, you'd probably have children right here! There is a limit to nonsense, and you've crossed every single one of them. I'm not marrying you!)"

I turned and started walking toward the door.

Suddenly—

He grabbed my wrist.

That was it.

The little patience I had left disappeared completely.

I spun around angrily, ready to blast him.

But before I could say anything, he gently pulled me toward him and immediately released my wrist.

The sudden movement left barely any distance between us.

His face was only inches away from mine.

I could feel his warm breath brushing against my face.

Only then did I realize how dangerously close we were.

Instinctively, I stepped backward.

He looked at me and spoke softly,

"Just... listen to me."

I took another step back.

"Look," I said while trying to remain calm, "I'll talk to you later. Right now only one percent of is left. I think I should leave."

I turned once again.

He stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

"Phone ki battery 1% hai toh tension kyun le rahi ho? Main drop kar dunga tumhe."

(If your phone battery is only 1%, then why are you worried? I'll drop you home.)

I closed my eyes.

Took a deep breath.

Then looked at him.

"Battery nahi... patience. Aur agar ab tumne mujhe roka, toh mera haath uth jayega. Phir mat kehna ki maine pehle warning nahi di. Aur tumhe bhi achha nahi lagega agar iss hotel ka staff tumhe pit-te hue dekhe. Filhaal ke liye... main chalti hoon."

(Not my battery... my patience. And if you stop me again, I might actually slap you. Then don't say I didn't warn you beforehand. It won't look good if the hotel staff sees you getting beaten up. For now... I'm leaving.)

I tried to walk past him again.

He stepped in front of me once more.

"Meri baat sun lo. Phir baat karenge."

(Just listen to me first. Then we'll talk.)

That was the final straw.

My patience snapped completely.

"Tumhe samajh nahi aa raha main kya keh rahi hoon? Aur kis bematlab ki baat ke liye tumhari baat sunu? Kuch bhi bole jaa rahe ho! Ek second... kitni ladkiyon ke saath yeh harkat ki hai tumne? Aur kise pagal bana rahe ho tum? Dekho, main un ladkiyon jaisi bilkul nahi hoon jo tumhe aur tumhare paise dekhkar tumhare saath chalne ko taiyaar ho jaayein. Aur agar ab mujhe dobara roka na... toh achha nahi hoga."

(Don't you understand what I'm saying? And why should I listen to such meaningless things? You're saying anything that comes to your mind! Tell me one thing... how many girls have you done this with? And who exactly are you trying to fool? Listen carefully—I am not one of those girls who will agree to be with you just because of your money and status. And if you stop me again... it won't end well.)

I turned around and started walking toward the door.

Just as my hand was about to reach the handle, his cold voice stopped me.

"Agar apne parivaar ko raste par dekhna nahi chahti, toh chup-chaap yahan aakar baitho."

(If you don't want to see your family on the streets, then quietly come back and sit down.)

I froze.

Family.

Slowly, I turned around.

He was already walking toward me with slow, measured steps.

There wasn't even a hint of hesitation on his face.

"Family of four..." he began calmly.

"Father—Ankush Shekhawat. Works in a small bank in Kasol."

He stopped just inches away from me.

His eyes remained locked onto mine, as though he genuinely believed he was doing the right thing.

My fingers curled into fists.

My jaw clenched so tightly that it almost hurt.

How dare he...?

How dare he threaten me like this?

I was about to speak when he leaned slightly closer.

I didn't move.

Instead, I stared right back into his eyes.

My jaw remained clenched.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said near my ear,

"How about your father loses his job... and your sister loses the contract she recently got? Or maybe that contract gets cancelled and is given to someone else."

My eyes widened.

Every word landed like a hammer.

Because if that happened...

Every financial burden would fall on me.

I was already struggling to manage my own expenses.

If Uncle lost his job and Riya lost her contract...

The first phone call would come from my so-called mother.

And then...

Those same cruel words.

The ones I never wanted to hear again.

All because I couldn't send them money.

I slowly looked back at him.

He was watching my reaction with a faint smirk on his face.

Aahhh...

How badly I want to punch this saand's face.

(Bull's face.)

But I swallowed my anger.

"What do you want?" I asked through gritted teeth.

His smirk widened.

"Ah... now can we sit and talk?"

He smiled.

God.

Those weren't teeth.

Those were weapons.

Should I punch him and run?

No... Dharini.

You can't.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh before walking back toward my chair and sitting down.

He calmly took his seat opposite me.

Then he simply stared at me.

As if we had entered some kind of staring competition.

I finally broke the silence.

"Now will you tell me?"

I asked while clenching my teeth.

Without changing his posture, he calmly replied,

"You have to marry me."

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then, with heavy sarcasm dripping from every word, I said,

"Arre, mujhe yeh baat pichhle aadhe ghante se bata rahe hain. Kya main jaan sakti hoon ki mujhe kis khushi mein aapse yeh faltu rishta jodna hoga?"

(You've been repeating this for the last half an hour. May I know on what happy occasion I should agree to this useless relationship with you?)

He actually chuckled.

"As I told you," he began patiently, "my parents are forcing me to get married."

He leaned back in his chair.

"They had already chosen a girl for me."

"But she wasn't my type."

"So I refused."

He shrugged casually.

"Within half an hour, they found another girl and asked me to meet her."

I listened silently.

"So I realized that if I kept refusing, they would continue introducing me to one girl after another."

He sighed.

"Eventually, I'd end up meeting a hundred girls."

His eyes met mine.

"So, to stop all that chaos, I told them I already have a girlfriend."

He paused. "The only problem..."

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

"I don't actually have one." He folded his hands comfortably.

"So yes..."

He looked straight into my eyes. "You have to become that girlfriend."

"What? What? I have to become your girlfriend?" I exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief.

"Ek ek second... ab mujhe asli problem samajh aayi. Tumhe girlfriend chahiye, right? Toh tum mere peeche kyun pade ho?"

(Wait a second... now I understand the real problem. You want a girlfriend, right? Then why are you after me?)

I threw my hands dramatically into the air.

"Hazaaron ladkiyan hain tumhare aas-paas. Unmein se kisi ko select kar lo. Mera peecha chhod do!"

(There are thousands of girls around you. Pick one of them. Leave me alone!)

My voice had automatically become dramatic.

At this point, I was too mentally exhausted to control my expressions anymore.

Then suddenly...

I gasped.

"Oh!"

"Oh, I got it! I got it!"

His eyebrows knitted together as he looked at me as though I had suddenly transformed into an alien.

Not an alien...

I'm just sharp and intelligent.

Everyone knows that.

I mentally praised myself for exactly two seconds before returning to the actual conversation.

"I know what the real problem is."

He folded his arms.

"Oh?"

"You don't know whom to approach."

I nodded confidently.

"That's why you came to me."

Then I paused.

"But..."

I frowned.

"No..."

"I think I'm wrong."

I snapped my fingers.

"No! I've found the perfect choice for your girlfriend."

A huge smile spread across my face.

"Come here."

He looked at me suspiciously before leaning slightly closer.

I lowered my voice as though I was about to reveal the biggest secret in the world.

"Miss Rabya has a huge crush on you."

I nodded seriously.

"If you ask her, she'll agree within minutes."

Leaning back proudly, I looked at him as if I had just solved the biggest problem of his life.

Instead...

He looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind.

"What?" I frowned.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm serious."

"She genuinely has a crush on you."

A small chuckle escaped him.

Then he leaned forward slightly.

"Do you really think I don't know that?"

I blinked.

"First listen to everything."

"Then react."

I folded my lips together and remained quiet.

He continued calmly,

"As I said..."

"I want a wife."

"Not a girlfriend."

"But..." I interrupted.

"You just said you wanted a girlfriend—"

"Let me finish, Dhani."

His interruption immediately shut me up.

I crossed my arms and silently gestured for him to continue.

"If I introduce you as my girlfriend, my parents will insist on a grand wedding."

He spoke as though he had already planned every detail.

"Our wedding will become public."

"Your face will be on magazine covers, newspapers, and every social media platform."

"I don't want that."

"So..."

"I want a simple marriage."

He looked directly into my eyes.

"Tomorrow we'll go shopping."

"And the day after tomorrow..."

"We'll have a registered marriage."

He paused briefly.

"And as my wife..."

"I want you."

"Not some random girl who might end up bringing shame to my family."

For a moment...

I simply stared at him.

Then I slowly rubbed my forehead.

"Mujhe lag raha hai tum pagal ho gaye ho."

(I seriously think you've gone mad.)

Taking a deep breath, I looked at him firmly.

"Dekhiye... shaadi har kisi ki zindagi ka bahut bada decision hota hai, sir. Aur main apni zindagi tumhare jaise kisi insaan par barbaad nahi karungi."

(Look... marriage is one of the biggest decisions in anyone's life, sir. And I'm not going to ruin my life by marrying someone like you.)

The atmosphere instantly changed.

His relaxed expression disappeared.

He slowly leaned forward.

His eyes darkened.

"Tumhare jaise... matlab?"

(Someone like me... what exactly do you mean by that?)

His voice had become dangerously calm.

Oh no...

Dharini...

Couldn't you control your tongue for just one minute?

Now think carefully before speaking.

"A... I... I didn't mean..."

I looked everywhere except at him.

He suddenly placed his hand over mine, which was resting on the table.

My body instantly stiffened.

"Mere jaise matlab...? Idhar dekho... aur batao."

(What do you mean by 'someone like me'? Look at me... and answer.)

His voice was cold.

Steady.

Unyielding.

I wanted to tell him the truth.

Someone rude.

Arrogant.

Shameless.

Completely impossible to deal with.

A tyrant.

But...

Common sense won.

I forced a polite smile instead.

Slowly, I tried pulling my hand out from beneath his.

Unfortunately...

His grip tightened.

I looked into his eyes before answering carefully,

"Tumhare jaise... matlab... tumhare jaise ameer aur highly influential insaan se shaadi nahi karni."

(By 'someone like you,' I mean someone who is rich and highly influential. I don't want to marry someone like that.)

I continued honestly,

"Tumse shaadi karne ka matlab hamesha limelight mein rehna hoga, aur mujhe yeh sab bilkul pasand nahi hai."

(Marrying you means living in the spotlight forever, and I don't like that at all.)

"And then..."

I sighed.

"Tumhari family kya sochegi? Ki tum ek gareeb ladki ko shaadi karke ghar le aaye?"

(What will your family think? That you brought home a poor girl as your wife?)

I looked straight at him.

"Khud socho... roz tumhe saas-bahu ka drama dekhne ko milega."

(Just think about it... every day you'll have to watch family drama between your mother and wife.)

I shook my head.

"Tumhari family shayad yahi soch rahi hogi ki tum unke standard ki bahu laoge. Isliye, please sir... aap waisi hi ladki dhoondh lijiye aur mera peecha chhod dijiye."

(Your family is probably expecting you to bring home a daughter-in-law who matches their social status. So please, sir... find someone like that and leave me alone.)

He listened to everything patiently.

Not once did he interrupt me.

When I finally finished, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Bas... yehi wajah hai?"

(That's it? These are your only reasons?)

I immediately shook my head.

"Nahi, nahi... aur bhi kai saari wajah hain."

(No, no... there are many more reasons.)

He nodded calmly.

"Jaise?"

(Like?)

I took a deep breath.

"Jaise... mere parents kabhi nahi maanenge."

(For example... my parents will never agree.)

I pointed toward myself.

"Aur upar se main bhi nahi maanungi."

(And on top of that, I won't agree either.)

I folded my arms.

"Mera career abhi-abhi toh shuru hua hai. Mujhe iss shaadi-vaadi ke chakkar mein bilkul nahi padna."

(My career has only just begun. I don't want to get trapped in this marriage business.)

The more I spoke, the more confident I became.

"Mujhe abhi job karni hai... ghoomna hai... girna hai... seekhna hai... aur sabse zaroori... dher saare paise kamaane hain."

(Right now I want to work... travel... make mistakes... learn... and most importantly... earn lots and lots of money.)

I nodded seriously, completely agreeing with my own life goals.

"Tumhare saath shaadi ki toh..."

(If I marry you then...)

I stopped mid-sentence.

My brain immediately screamed at me.

Dharini! Watch your words!

I quickly changed the sentence.

"Ah... I-I don't mean only you."

I awkwardly laughed.

"Mera matlab... agar maine abhi shaadi ki, toh ghar, sansaar aur uske saare chochle sambhalte hi reh jaungi."

(I mean... if I get married now, I'll get stuck managing a household and everything that comes with it.)

I sighed deeply.

"Aur sach bolun toh... main abhi itni badi zimmedaari lene ke liye taiyaar bhi nahi hoon. Toh please... mujhe baksh do."

(And honestly... I'm not even ready to take such a huge responsibility yet. So please... spare me.)

I finished speaking and looked at him hopefully.

Now he'll definitely understand.

He has to.

He quietly thought for a moment before nodding.

"Hmm..."

"Yeh toh waqai bahut badi problem hai. Aur koi problem?"

(Hmm... that is indeed a very big problem. Any other problems?)

I nodded immediately.

"Yes."

"The biggest one."

I looked down for a brief second before speaking softly.

"Mujhe apne parents ko proud bhi toh feel karwana hai."

(I want to make my parents feel proud of me too.)

For the first time, my voice lacked sarcasm.

That sentence...

It came straight from my heart.

I silently hoped that after hearing all these reasons, he'd finally realize I was right.

He remained thoughtful for a few moments.

Then...

To my surprise...

His fingers gently tightened around my hand.

He hadn't let go of it even once during our conversation.

I instinctively tried pulling my hand back again.

No use.

His grip remained firm.

Completely ignoring my struggle, he calmly stood up.

"Let's go."

I blinked.

"It's already seven."

Then he looked directly into my eyes.

He slowly stood up, his fingers still firmly wrapped around my hand.

"Let's go," he said calmly.

"It's already seven."

Then he looked straight into my eyes and said,

"We should go to your home."

For a moment...

I simply stared at him.

My... home?

Before I could even process what he meant, I immediately stood up and tried to pull my hand out of his grip.

Once.

Twice.

I even used a little more force this time.

But...

He didn't let go.

His grip only tightened slightly, making my frustration rise even more.

I looked up and glared at him.

"Leave my hand."

I said through clenched teeth, trying my best to stay calm, while he simply stood there, looking at me as if he had all the time in the world.