The marriage contract lay silently on the glass table, its crisp white pages glowing under the chandelier light.
Anaya's eyes remained fixed on the bold heading at the top of the paper.
MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.
Her fingers trembled as she clasped them together on her lap. The room was too quiet, too large, too cold. Every second felt heavier than the last.
This was not how she had imagined her wedding.
Not once in her life.
She had dreamed of soft music, gentle smiles, and promises whispered with warmth. She had imagined nervous excitement, maybe even love.
But instead, she was sitting in a luxurious penthouse living room, surrounded by glass walls and city lights, facing a man whose expression held no emotion at all.
"Sign it."
The words were calm. Flat. Almost bored.
Anaya slowly lifted her gaze.
He sat across from her, relaxed, his long legs crossed casually. His black suit looked as flawless as his reputation. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. A face that had appeared on business magazines more times than she could count.
Aarav Malhotra.
One of the most powerful businessmen in the city.
To the outside world, he was admired. Respected. Feared.
To her, at this moment, he was the man who held her future in his hands.
"What happens if I don't?" Anaya asked quietly.
Her voice sounded weaker than she wanted it to be.
Aarav's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.
"You don't have that option."
The words hit her harder than she expected.
She swallowed, her throat dry. "You said this marriage would protect my family."
"And it will," he replied. "As long as you follow the agreement."
He pushed the contract slightly toward her. The movement was slow, deliberate—as if he knew she had nowhere to go.
Anaya glanced down again.
The clauses were clear. Too clear.
This marriage was not about love. Not even companionship.
It was a deal.
A legal arrangement that benefited both sides.
She would become Aarav Malhotra's wife in name.
In return, he would clear her father's debts and protect her family from ruin.
No emotions.
No expectations.
No questions.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Just a few hours ago, she had been a normal girl with simple worries. Now, she was about to sign her life away to a man she barely knew.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay calm.
Aarav leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp.
"Because you need me," he said. "And I need a wife."
"That's it?" she whispered. "Just like that?"
"Yes."
No explanation. No apology.
She felt something crack inside her.
Anaya looked away, her eyes drifting toward the glass window. The city below looked beautiful, glowing with endless possibilities.
Yet she felt trapped.
Her father's tired face flashed in her mind. The hospital bills. The collectors. The fear in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.
She closed her eyes.
If she walked away now, everything would fall apart.
Her family would suffer.
She would regret it for the rest of her life.
Slowly, she reached for the pen lying beside the contract.
Aarav watched her silently.
The pen felt heavy in her fingers.
This one signature would bind her to him.
Forever… or at least, as long as the contract said.
Her hand hovered above the paper.
"Read the last clause," Aarav said suddenly.
She froze. "Why?"
"Because most people don't," he replied. "And I don't like misunderstandings."
Anaya hesitated, then flipped to the final page.
Her breath caught.
Clause 17:
This marriage shall remain strictly contractual. Emotional involvement is prohibited. Violation of this clause will result in immediate termination of the agreement.
Her heart sank.
No emotions allowed.
As if feelings were a switch she could simply turn off.
She looked up at him, searching his face. "Do you really think emotions work like rules on paper?"
His eyes darkened for a brief second—so brief she almost missed it.
"That's not your concern," he said coldly. "Sign it."
The silence returned.
Anaya's hands shook as she lowered the pen.
Her name stared back at her from the blank line.
This was the point of no return.
She took a deep breath.
For Baba, she told herself.
For Ma.
And then—
She signed.
The sound of the pen scratching against the paper echoed loudly in the room.
Aarav picked up the contract immediately, his eyes scanning her signature with satisfaction.
"It's done," he said.
Just two words.
Yet they felt like chains closing around her.
"When is the wedding?" she asked softly.
"Tomorrow."
Her head snapped up. "Tomorrow?!"
"You agreed to the terms," he replied calmly. "This was mentioned."
"I—I thought I'd have some time."
"You don't need time," he said. "Everything is arranged."
Her heart pounded wildly.
Tomorrow, she would become his wife.
A stranger.
A contract wife.
Aarav stood up, adjusting his cuffs. "You'll stay here tonight. The guest room is ready."
"And after the wedding?" she asked.
He paused, looking down at her.
"You'll move into my house."
Her breath hitched.
His house.
His rules.
His world.
As he turned to leave, Anaya gathered the courage to ask one last question.
"Do you ever regret making deals like this?"
Aarav stopped.
For a moment, his back remained turned.
Then he said, "Regret is a luxury I can't afford."
And with that, he walked away.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Anaya remained seated, staring at the signed contract on the table.
She had crossed a line she could never erase.
Tomorrow, she would wear a bridal dress.
Smile for the cameras.
Become Mrs. Aarav Malhotra.
But deep inside, a question echoed painfully in her heart.
Was this marriage going to save her life…
Or destroy it completely?