CHAPTER 3
ANIKA
The room falls into stunned silence. My eyes widen. Thud-thud-thud. My heart slams against my ribs. Did I hear that right? Silence engulfs me, and his words shoot straight through my head.
“I’ll marry her,” he says again, his voice steady, unwavering. The words echo in the stillness like a slap. I stare at him, wide-eyed. Why? He didn’t care to contact me all these years, and now, suddenly, he wants to marry me? It must be out of pity.
“What?” my mother stammers, disbelief written all over her face. Her hands tremble slightly as she grips the edge of the couch for support.
“I said I’ll marry her.” His voice doesn’t shake. Doesn’t falter.
I stare at him, trying to make sense of what’s happening. “Are you insane?” The words barely leave my lips, coming out as a breathless murmur.
His eyes snap to mine, sharp and furious. For a second, I see something flicker there—anger, maybe? Pain? I can't tell. But just as quickly, it vanishes, and his face returns to that calm, unreadable mask.
“I know what I’m doing,” he says coolly.
“You… you can’t be serious,” I breathe, completely thrown off.
But he doesn’t even flinch. “I am.” And then, without waiting for anyone’s response—typical him—he mutters, “I need to talk to you,” and walks away.
Of course he does. Still the same arrogant jerk. Always doing things on his own terms. Never waiting. Never explaining.
Except… once, he used to wait for me. He used to care. That part of him is definitely gone now.
I don’t want to follow him, but my mother gives me a gentle nod, urging me to go after him.
I don’t want to. Despite the thundering in my chest, I follow him anyway.
Something nasty churns in my gut. Maybe it’s curiosity.
Maybe it’s anger. Maybe it’s the years of unresolved pain bubbling to the surface.
His broad shoulders are slightly tense as he walks ahead, cutting through the crowd like he owns the place. I hate that he looks better than ever—stronger, taller, more put together. His back is straight, his walk confident. The definition of someone who knows exactly who he is.
He’s no longer the boy I once loved. That boy is gone.
In his place stands a man—handsome, distant, and infuriating.
And no matter how much I try to tell myself I’m over it, over the one-sided love I had for him, the ache in my chest tells me otherwise.
Even from behind, he draws attention effortlessly—there’s something about the way he moves, the quiet confidence, the raw masculinity.
He leads me to a quiet corner, away from the noise and people.
He meant so much to me once. I cared deeply—maybe too deeply. But now I see it clearly: he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he never did. I was na?ve to believe he’d always be there when I needed him. That he’d choose me.
How foolish of me. I shake my head, more disappointed in myself than in him. God, I was so stupid. So incredibly stupid. Lost in thought, I suddenly crash into something solid. A wall. No—wait. Not a wall.
Aarav.
He’s standing there, arms crossed, eyes burning into mine. “Still don’t know how to walk properly?” His voice is sharp, but there’s no teasing in it like before. Just tension. And anger.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, annoyed at myself for following him in the first place.
He turns away, eyes scanning the sky like it holds the answers. “Do you love him?”
His voice is low. Quiet. Dangerous. It takes me a second to process the question. Vikram?
My stomach turns just thinking about him.
No. God, no. I close my eyes for a beat, memories flashing—Vikram’s smirk, the way he used to accidentally brush against me, the way his words always made me feel small.
Uncomfortable. That disgusting night when I walked in to find him sitting next to my mother, pretending to care while feeding her lies.
Telling her that I loved him. That I wanted to marry him but didn’t because of her health.
Manipulative bastard. He made it look like my mother was a burden to me. And somehow, she believed him. No matter what I said after that, it didn’t matter. She was convinced. He’d twisted everything so perfectly.
And then one night, she came to me crying—begging me to say yes. I couldn’t take it anymore. Her helpless cries for me to not end up like her pushed me to marry him. Just for her happiness, I said I would. But love him? Not even close.
“I asked a question,” Aarav says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“No. It was an arranged marriage,” I reply flatly.
Aarav lets out a breath.
“Good.”
“Do you have any issues marrying me?” he asks next, as casually as if he’s asking me to pass the salt.
A scoff escapes me. “Of course I do! Don’t do this out of guilt. And don’t listen to my mother. I don’t want to marry you. Or anyone else.”
I step back. The words slip out too fast. Why? Why now? “This isn’t a solution, Anika.” My name on his lips feels wrong. It’s been so long. He used to call me Anu. Hearing Anika from him still feels strange.
“What even makes you think I should marry you?” I snap, anger rising again.
He turns to face me fully now. Calm. Seriously?
“Because your mother’s health isn’t good. She needs to see you settled,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.
I clench my fists. “You think you can just show up after twelve years and fix everything with a marriage proposal? What are you even trying to do?”
“I’m not trying to fix anything,” he says calmly, but there’s an edge in his voice. “There’s nothing left to fix.”
His words hit me in the gut like a punch. He’s right. But that still hurts. “Then what are you trying to do?” I yell, my voice cracking. My body shakes with vulnerable anger.
“Protect you.” I freeze. Protect me? I fold my arms across my chest.
“How exactly are you protecting me?” I laugh. But it’s a painful one. “I don’t need your protection now.” I clench my jaw. Who gives him the right to barge into my life after all these years and say, Oh, I am protecting you?
“Vikram,” he replies, rubbing his fingers across his forehead like I’m giving him a headache.
You know what, dude? Same.
“You know he’ll come back for you.” He sighs. “He’s not a good man. You should stay away from him,” he says.
I know every word is true. But marrying Aarav means chaos. In my life. In my heart.
“Just six months, Anika,” he says, his voice softer this time.
Confusion clouds my gaze. He continues before I can respond. “I’ll leave after that.”
And just like that, he punches the air out of my lungs. Again.
Six months? Six. Months. I stare at him, completely thrown off.
“You… you can’t be serious.” A marriage proposal and a divorce proposal—together? Wow. How lucky I must be.
Tears blur my vision. His figure blurs before my eyes. I quickly blink them away, and my vision clears.
He raises an eyebrow, unbothered. How cruel he’s become. “Why? Is six months too much of a commitment for you?”
My jaw tightens. Commitment? He’s really going to talk about commitment? This man—this man who promised to always be there, who used to say I was his forever, who disappeared without a word? He doesn’t get to say that word.
My blood boils at his audacity. He dares talk about commitment when he was the one who abandoned me.
I kept sending him letters. I kept writing to him for years. But I never got a response. It was as if I was never part of his life, as if he had forgotten about me. As if it was easy for him.
“You’ve got some nerve,” I whisper.
I laugh. It’s hollow. Bitter.Nothing’s funny, but I can’t help it. An ache blooms in my chest. The weight of the lehenga wears me down. I nearly stumble.
“You were going to marry a stranger, but you have issues marrying me?” he snaps, jaw clenched.
Because you were never a stranger! I want to scream. But I don’t. Instead, I just glare at him.
“Just do it for six months,” he says again, his voice full of nonchalance. “For your mother’s sake.” He pauses. Voice drops lower. “For your safety.”
And that’s the thing. I know he’s right. My mother’s hanging by a thread. Vikram is dangerous.
And I’m so tired. So tired of fighting this alone. A tear slips down my cheek, but I quickly lower my gaze. I don’t want him to see me cry. Not anymore. Not again.
“Fine,” I whisper, swallowing everything inside me.
“Just six months.”
He nods once. “Just six months.”