Chapter 6 - Part 1 Bridal Shopping
After few days after engagement
Today they went to shopping for bridal lehanga.
The bustling streets of Mumbai were alive with the evening rush, the city lights shimmering as Ira nervously stepped out of the car. She clutched her dupatta tightly, glancing at the grand bridal boutique before her. The golden letters spelling out "Royale Couture" gleamed under the soft glow of fairy lights.
Aarav Malhotra stood beside her, every bit the intimidating businessman in his perfectly tailored black three-piece suit. His sharp jawline and cold eyes made him look like he was here for a high-stakes meeting rather than a bridal shopping trip.
Ira swallowed hard. Shopping for her wedding attire should have been a dream. But how could she feel like a bride when she wasn’t one? This was a contract, a deal—one where love had no place.
Yet, as she stepped inside, the luxurious interior of the boutique almost made her forget the weight of her situation. Rows of designer lehengas, sarees, and bridal jewelry sparkled under the chandeliers. Mannequins adorned in regal red and pastel shades stood like silent witnesses to her turmoil.
“Good evening, Mr. Malhotra,” the store manager greeted Aarav, visibly flustered by his presence. “It’s an honor to have you here.”
Aarav gave a curt nod. “We need a wedding wardrobe for her.”
Her. Not his fiancée. Not Ira. Just her.
Ira’s fingers curled around the fabric of her dupatta. Of course, he wouldn’t address her with warmth. Why was she expecting anything different?
The attendants led them to a private section of the boutique, where the latest bridal collections were displayed.
Sunita Malhotra, Aarav’s mother, had given Ira the freedom to choose whatever she wanted. But freedom felt like a strange concept when the man beside her had shackled her into a six-month-long agreement.
Ira hesitated before running her fingers over the intricate embroidery of a maroon and gold lehenga. It was beautiful—traditional yet elegant.
The store manager beamed. “Excellent choice, ma’am! Would you like to try it?”
Before she could respond, Aarav spoke, his voice cold yet decisive. “She’ll try a few more options.”
Ira frowned. “I like this one.”
Aarav turned to her, his piercing gaze locking with hers. “You’re marrying a Malhotra, Ira. You need something grander.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Marrying a Malhotra? As if this was real.
The attendants quickly brought out a few more lehengas—one in deep red, another in ivory, and one in an unconventional midnight blue. Aarav observed each with the same critical gaze he used in business meetings.
Ira, growing irritated by his interference, huffed. “Mr. Malhotra, I believe I should be the one picking my wedding lehenga.”
Aarav arched a brow at her sudden boldness. He stepped closer, his voice low yet firm. “You can pick, but not without trying them on.”
Ira exhaled sharply and grabbed the red lehenga, walking toward the trial room. If he wanted her to try them on, fine. But she wasn’t going to let him dictate her choice.
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Moments Later
Ira stood in front of the mirror, the heavy red lehenga flowing around her like a regal dream. The gold embellishments shimmered under the soft lighting, and the matching dupatta draped gracefully over her shoulder.
She looked… like a bride.
A knock on the door startled her. “Come out,” Aarav’s voice commanded.
Ira sighed, opening the door and stepping out.
The second she did, silence filled the boutique. The attendants gasped softly, exchanging knowing glances. But the only reaction she cared about was his.
Aarav’s gaze slowly traveled from her head to toe, his usually unreadable eyes darkening with something unreadable. He didn’t blink, didn’t speak. He just… stared.
The intensity of his scrutiny sent a shiver down Ira’s spine. She cleared her throat. “So? What do you think?”
Aarav blinked, his expression immediately turning impassive again. He crossed his arms. “It’s fine.”
Fine? That was it?
Ira scowled, turning to the mirror. She thought she looked breathtaking, but apparently, it was just fine to him.
Determined to get a reaction out of him, she walked back into the trial room and tried the next lehenga—a pastel ivory one, delicate and ethereal. She stepped out once again.
Aarav’s jaw tightened.
Still no words.
She turned away and went back inside, trying the last one—the midnight blue lehenga, embroidered with silver details that made her look almost celestial.
When she stepped out this time, Aarav didn’t just stare. He clenched his fists.
Ira smirked inwardly. So, this one got to him.
“Is it ‘fine’ again?” she teased, tilting her head.
Aarav exhaled sharply. “No.”
Ira raised an eyebrow, surprised. “No?”
His jaw tensed as he spoke, his voice clipped. “We’re taking the red one.”
Ira blinked. “But I thought—”
“I don’t care what you thought,” he cut her off. “You’ll wear the red lehenga. A Malhotra bride wears red.”
Something about the way he said it—so firm, so final—sent a wave of warmth through Ira’s chest.
She opened her mouth to protest, but then she caught the way he was looking at her. Not with cold detachment. Not with indifference. But with something… possessive.
Like she already belonged to him.
Ira’s breath hitched. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt real.
But the moment shattered when he turned away and pulled out his phone, his voice returning to its usual cold tone. “We’re done here.”
And just like that, the warmth disappeared, and Ira was reminded of the truth. This wasn’t a fairytale.
This was a deal.
And in this deal, emotions had no place.