Sunlight streamed through the velvet curtains, casting gold across the white marble floor. Birds chirped outside the window, but inside, the Raichand estate remained frozen in silence—like time dared not move unless given permission.
Anaya stirred, groggy and disoriented. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. But the silky sheets, the luxurious bed, the mangalsutra still resting heavily on her chest—all reminded her.
She was no longer Anaya Verma, florist from the lanes of Byculla.
She was Mrs. Aarav Raichand.
At least on paper.
A knock sounded at the door. "Madam, breakfast is served. Mr. Raichand has requested your presence."
Anaya blinked in surprise. Requested? That was the last thing she expected after last night's warning.
She got up and changed into a soft peach kurta she found in the closet. No makeup. Just kajal and a touch of lip balm. She tied her hair into a neat braid, took a breath, and stepped into the hall.
The walk to the dining room felt longer than necessary—like the corridors themselves were watching.
When she entered, her eyes widened.
The dining hall looked like it belonged in a palace. A long teakwood table stretched across the room, with thirteen high-backed chairs. Chandeliers sparkled above, and golden cutlery glinted against the porcelain.
Seated at the head of the table, sipping black coffee, was Aarav Raichand.
He didn't even look up when she entered.
Three other people were already seated—each of them elegantly dressed, with sharp eyes and colder smiles.
The first to rise was a woman in her forties, dressed in a maroon chiffon sari and diamonds that sparkled like frost. Her posture was perfect. Regal.
"You must be the... new Mrs. Raichand," she said, drawing out the word new like a blade.
"I'm Anaya," she said quietly.
"I'm Ritika Raichand, Aarav's aunt," the woman replied, eyeing her up and down. "This is my daughter, Tanisha, and my son, Viraj."
Tanisha gave her a barely-there smile. Viraj, however, smirked with open amusement.
"So this is the girl," Viraj said, leaning back in his chair. "No last name, no pedigree, and yet, the nameplate says 'Raichand.' How convenient."
Anaya stiffened, but said nothing.
Ritika clicked her tongue. "Aarav, darling, you married without even a press release? The tabloids are starving."
"No need for drama," Aarav said flatly, finally glancing at Anaya. "The marriage is private. It stays that way."
Ritika raised a brow. "You expect people to believe you married this girl out of love?"
"I don't expect them to believe anything," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "They'll believe what I want them to."
Anaya took a seat quietly at the far end of the table. A maid served her idli, chutney, and fruit juice.
Viraj chuckled. "You know, bhai, you could've at least pretended to fall for someone believable. Not… her."
"Viraj." Aarav's voice was calm, but deadly. "Leave the table if you're going to talk like a fool."
Viraj grinned but didn't push further.
Anaya stared at her plate, unsure if she should eat or run.
Ritika leaned toward her slightly. "My dear, you'll find that this family doesn't accept outsiders easily. But try not to embarrass Aarav. Especially in public."
"I didn't come here to impress anyone," Anaya said quietly. "Just to fulfill my side of the deal."
For a second, the table fell silent.
Then Aarav's lips twitched—just slightly. A trace of approval? Or surprise?
"Good," he said. "Because this marriage has nothing to do with emotions. We keep things… efficient."
Tanisha finally spoke. "How romantic. A marriage built on spreadsheets and silence."
---
After breakfast, Aarav stood.
"I'll be out most of the day. There are files in the study for you to sign. Legal ones."
"Alright," Anaya said, rising too.
"Remember what I said last night," he added, voice lower. "Stay in your space. Don't wander."
"I heard you the first time," she replied.
Their eyes met. Cold against cautious.
And then he walked out, leaving her in the middle of chandeliers and stares.
---
Later, as Anaya wandered the east wing, trying to familiarize herself with her new prison, she heard a whisper of voices down the hallway.
She paused by a door that was slightly ajar.
"…one year. That's all she has," Ritika's voice said. "After that, we'll ensure she's gone."
"She's not even a threat," Tanisha added. "But she's in the way."
Viraj laughed. "Let the girl dream. She'll crack on her own. No one survives this house."
Anaya stepped away silently.
They weren't just rich.
They were dangerous.
And she wasn't just a contract.
She was a target.