Ishita stared at the folder like it might bite her.
The words Marriage Agreement burned into her vision, each letter heavier than the last. Her fingers hovered above the paper, not daring to touch it.
"This—this is a joke," she said finally, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears. "You're joking, right?"
Aarav Malhotra didn't laugh.
He stood near the window now, hands in his pockets, the city stretched beneath him like something he owned. The sunlight hit the sharp planes of his face, but it didn't soften him. Nothing ever did.
"Does this look like a joke to you?" he asked calmly.
She swallowed. "You can't just—marriage isn't a business deal."
He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto her.
"Everything is a business deal," he said. "People just like to pretend otherwise."
Her chest tightened. "Why me?"
That question finally seemed to interest him.
Aarav walked toward her, each step unhurried, deliberate. Ishita's back pressed into the chair as he stopped in front of her desk. Too close. She could smell his cologne, sharp and expensive, something that didn't belong in her world.
"Because you're invisible," he said. "No powerful family. No media attention. No expectations."
That hurt more than she expected.
"And because," he continued, lowering his voice, "you have something I can control."
Her hands clenched in her lap. "My father?"
"Yes."
The word was simple. Final.
Tears welled up again, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn't cry in front of him. She wouldn't give him that.
"You're blackmailing me," she said.
Aarav tilted his head slightly. "I'm offering you security."
She laughed bitterly. "At what cost?"
"One year of your life," he replied. "Publicly, you'll be my wife. Privately, you'll follow my rules."
"And after one year?"
"You walk away with enough money to start over," he said. "Your father gets the best doctors. No debts. No threats."
Her heart pounded. This was insane. This was wrong.
"And if I say no?" she asked quietly.
For the first time, something cold and dangerous flickered openly in his eyes.
"Then the hospital stops returning your calls," he said. "And life teaches you how unfair it really is."
Silence crashed between them.
Ishita looked down at the contract again. Her future reduced to pages and clauses.
She was trapped.
Her voice broke. "Do I get… any choice at all?"
Aarav considered her for a moment.
"Yes," he said. "You can choose how difficult you make this for yourself."
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pen.
She signed.
---
The Malhotra mansion was nothing like Ishita had imagined.
She expected something cold, maybe even empty. Instead, it was massive, elegant, and suffocating in its perfection. Chandeliers glowed softly above marble floors. The walls were lined with art she didn't recognize but knew was expensive.
"This will be your room," the housekeeper said gently, opening a door.
Ishita stepped inside and froze.
The room was beautiful. King-sized bed. Balcony overlooking a garden. A dressing room larger than her entire rented flat.
"This is… too much," she whispered.
"It's temporary," the woman replied kindly. "Dinner will be served at eight. Mr. Malhotra prefers punctuality."
Of course he did.
The door closed, leaving Ishita alone.
She sat on the edge of the bed, hugging herself.
This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
She was married—to a stranger who looked at her like a problem to be managed.
A soft knock broke her thoughts.
The door opened without waiting for permission.
Aarav walked in.
Her heart jumped.
"You live here now," he said simply. "Get used to it."
She stood up quickly. "You can't just walk into my room."
His eyebrow arched. "This is my house."
"That doesn't mean—"
"It means exactly that," he interrupted. "There are cameras in the common areas, staff everywhere. We'll be seen together. That's non-negotiable."
She clenched her jaw. "And at night?"
His gaze dropped, slow and deliberate.
"At night," he said, "you'll sleep in my room."
Her breath caught. "You said this marriage was only on paper."
"It is," he replied. "But forced proximity is part of the deal."
Her face flushed. "I'm not comfortable with that."
Aarav stepped closer, his presence filling the space.
"Comfort was never promised," he said quietly. "Obedience was."
Anger flared in her chest. "I'm not your servant."
"No," he agreed. "You're my wife."
The word hit her harder than she expected.
"I won't touch you," he said after a pause. "Unless you give me a reason to."
That didn't comfort her. Somehow, it made everything worse.
---
That night, Ishita lay stiff on one side of the massive bed, her hands folded tightly over her chest. The room was dark, the air heavy with tension.
Aarav lay on the other side, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
Neither of them slept.
Every small movement felt magnified. The rustle of sheets. The sound of breathing.
She was painfully aware of how close he was.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
"Why are you really doing this?" Ishita asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aarav didn't answer immediately.
"Power," he said finally.
She turned her head slightly. "That's it?"
"No," he admitted. "Control."
Something about his honesty sent a shiver through her.
"And control over me makes you feel powerful?" she asked.
His jaw tightened.
"It makes me feel," he said slowly, "less alone."
The admission hung in the air, raw and unexpected.
Before she could respond, he turned away.
"Sleep," he said. "Tomorrow, the world starts watching."
---
The days that followed were a blur of forced smiles and silent battles.
At breakfast, Aarav corrected how she held her fork.
At events, his hand rested possessively on her waist, fingers pressing just enough to remind her he was there.
To the world, they looked perfect.
Behind closed doors, they barely spoke.
But Aarav watched her.
He watched the way she flinched when he raised his voice at staff. The way she apologized too much. The way she smiled softly at people who didn't deserve it.
He told himself it didn't matter.
Yet one night, when he came home late and found her asleep on the couch, a book slipping from her fingers, something twisted painfully in his chest.
He covered her with a blanket.
She stirred slightly, murmuring his name in her sleep.
Aarav froze.
He stood there longer than he should have, staring down at the woman he had trapped.
For the first time in years, control felt… fragile.
And that scared him