04
SHIVANI
“If that’s your list of reasons not to marry you, Shivani, it doesn’t scare me.” He pauses and stares in my eyes.
“I am going to marry you,” he then announces gruffly, not breaking eye contact.
I’ve never felt this intimidated—not even by my father. There’s a moment of silence, yet he doesn’t look away. Not even for a second. He’s made up his mind—he really wants to marry me.
“Will you marry me, Shivani?” he asks calmly, gently taking my hand and rubbing his thumb across the back of my palm.
This is the second time he has touched me in the span of one hour—his touch doesn't make me feel uncomfortable, surprisingly. I can’t believe this man has asked me five times if I want this marriage—when my own parents never asked even once. They just imposed their decision on me.
I nod slowly, giving him my answer. I barely know him, but from this encounter—especially the way he handled my outburst—I know he’s already better than my parents.
Still, I regret my emotional breakdown. Because if my mother finds out—and she always does—I’ll be dead.
To my parents, this is just another business deal.
And they hate losing. I remember as a child, whenever my father failed to close a deal.
He’d come home, pour himself a drink or two, light a cigarette, and call me in.
A slap for every investor who walked away.
I screamed. Called out for help. No one came.
Eventually, I learned it was easier to stay quiet and endure it.
If Rudraksh hadn’t agreed to marry me, I don’t even want to think about what they would’ve done to me. But I still told him the truth. I needed to say it because I don’t want to ruin someone else’s life for my benefit. That’s not who I am.
I warned him. I told him about me. If he still wants to marry me, I won’t stop him.
“I need words, darling,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts. The word slips out unexpectedly, and we both notice it—but neither of us says anything.
Darling? My breath catches in my throat. Did he just call me darling? Was that... on purpose? Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue.
“Can I ask you something first?” I ask carefully, and he nods, signaling me to move forward with my words.
“Do you have anyone you like? Like... a girlfriend or something?” I don’t expect anything from him, and I won’t stand in his way if he does. I just want him to keep her out of his house so I can ignore it.
“I think you didn’t hear me properly,” he says, his tone sharper now, his eyes assessing mine as if searching for something.
“Once we’re married, I’m yours. And you’re mine, Shivani.” His voice is rough, but there’s a surprising gentleness to it. His jaw tightens. Then he exhales and softens, as if reminding himself not to scare me.
“I don’t enjoy repeating myself. So answer the question, Shivani.
Will you marry me?” I can’t wrap my head around the fact that he wants to know my answer.
That he said he’d treat me with respect.
That he promised loyalty. That he is still willing to marry me even after knowing about my flaws. I won’t find that anywhere else.
Should I really trust him? A question ceases my breathing, and my eyes flicker to his face. He is already staring at me. Will he be worth my decision? But I already have so little left to lose, and maybe it's because I don't really have another choice, but right now... this feels right.
This feels safe.
“Yes, Rudraksh. I will marry you,” I say, gathering every bit of courage, and stare back into his dark brown eyes.
“Good.” He nods, reaching into his coat pocket and placing a sleek black card in front of me.
“I’m not good at this stuff, so Ma will handle all the wedding arrangements. This is my credit card. Use it however you want. Don’t worry about the price. That won’t be a problem. Got it?”
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's tall , 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. He remembered . 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.