Chapter 4 - The Decision
Ira Sharma sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers clenching the worn-out fabric of her dupatta. The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, mirroring the storm raging within her.
A marriage proposal.
No. A contract marriage proposal.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the overwhelming thoughts. The past few hours had been nothing short of a whirlwind, leaving her mind in chaos.
Aarav Malhotra’s words echoed in her ears.
"You have two options… walk away and struggle, or marry me and solve all your problems."
She hated how easily he had unraveled her reality, how effortlessly he had offered a solution wrapped in chains.
Her gaze fell on the single wooden cupboard in the corner of the room. Inside it—bills, hospital receipts, unpaid loans.
Her father lay on the bed behind her, his weak breaths a painful reminder of why she couldn’t afford to be selfish.
She needed this.
She had spent the past few hours running every possible scenario in her head, trying to find another way. But there wasn’t one.
The weight of helplessness pressed down on her.
Could she really do this?
Could she marry a man she barely knew—a man who didn’t believe in love?
Her phone buzzed, breaking the suffocating silence.
Aarav Malhotra.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the call.
“Time’s up, Miss Sharma.” His voice was deep, calm—as if he already knew her answer.
Ira swallowed. “I—” She closed her eyes, inhaling shakily. “I need to see the contract first.”
A small pause. Then, “Come to my office. Now.”
The line went dead.
Ira stared at the screen, her heart hammering in her chest. There was no going back now.
---
Malhotra Industries – 10:00 PM
Ira stepped out of the cab, staring up at the towering skyscraper. The world of the rich and powerful. A world she was about to enter, not as an employee—but as a temporary wife.
She forced her legs to move, stepping inside. The usual bustling lobby was empty now, except for a few security guards. The receptionist nodded at her, as if already expecting her.
“The boss is waiting.”
Ira’s pulse quickened as she stepped into the private elevator. The ride to the top floor felt eternal, the weight of her decision pressing down on her.
As the doors slid open, her gaze met his.
Aarav Malhotra stood near the glass window, hands in his pockets, the city lights casting a shadow over his sharp features. He turned slightly, his dark eyes unreadable.
“You came.”
Ira stepped forward, her throat dry. “I need to see the contract.”
Aarav walked to his desk, picking up a folder. He handed it to her, his fingers brushing against hers for a fleeting second—cold, calculated.
She hesitated before flipping it open.
Terms and Conditions:
1. The marriage will last six months.
2. No emotional involvement.
3. Public appearances will be mandatory.
4. She will live with him for the duration of the contract.
5. Divorce will be filed exactly after six months, with no claims from either party.
6. In return, he will pay for her father’s medical expenses and settle her financial burdens.
Her fingers tightened around the paper. Everything was laid out like a business deal.
She looked up at him. “And what happens if I refuse?”
Aarav leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. “Then you walk out of this office, and this conversation never happened.”
Ira swallowed hard. He was serious.
Her mind screamed at her to leave. To run. To not become a pawn in his game.
But then—her father’s weak voice echoed in her mind. The hospital visits. The medicines. The unbearable burden of debt.
Her chest ached.
She had no choice.
With a deep breath, she picked up the pen. Her fingers trembled as she signed her name on the contract, sealing her fate.
When she looked up, Aarav was watching her with an unreadable expression.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Malhotra.” His voice was quiet but firm. Possessive.
Ira’s heart pounded.
She wasn’t ready for this.
But it was too late to turn back now.
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