Chapter 2: Terms & Conditions

"No touching before 9 AM? Are you writing a contract or a hostage negotiation?"

Diya sat across from Parth in his ridiculously expensive office (again), staring at the document in front of her like it was a death sentence.

She had signed many things in her life—credit card bills, rent agreements, even an online petition to make 'extra cheese' mandatory on pizzas. But this?

A marriage contract?

Parth, ever the emotionless corporate overlord, tapped his pen against the desk impatiently. "If you're done staring at it like it's cursed, we should discuss the terms."

Diya exhaled sharply, grabbing the document. "Fine. Let's see what kind of madness you've put in here."

The first few lines were pretty standard:

The marriage would last for exactly one year.

They must act like a real couple in public—holding hands, attending events together, the usual romantic nonsense.

Absolutely no emotional involvement. (Diya snorted at this. The man had the emotional range of a brick wall—this was hardly a risk.)

But then, as she kept reading, her eyes widened.

"Wait. Wait. Wait. What the hell is this?"

Parth, ever calm, adjusted his sleeves. "Which part?"

Diya jabbed her finger at a particular line. "'No touching before 9 AM?!' What are you, a vampire?"

He didn't even blink. "I don't like physical contact in the mornings."

Diya gaped at him. "You don't like— What, do you turn into a gremlin before sunrise?"

Parth remained infuriatingly unaffected. "It's a simple boundary."

Diya crossed her arms. "Fine. Then I want one too. No business talk after 8 PM. I refuse to discuss spreadsheets over dinner."

He frowned slightly. "8:30."

"8:15."

"8:20."

"Deal."

She smirked in victory but kept reading.

Then she saw another clause and nearly fell off her chair.

"You want me to do WHAT?!"

Parth calmly sipped his coffee. "Attend three family dinners a month. My grandfather needs to believe this is real."

Diya groaned, slumping against the chair. "Ughhh, three? Can we do two? What if your family hates me?"

Parth raised an eyebrow. "Unlikely. They don't feel strongly about much, except maintaining their reputation."

She muttered, "Wow. Sounds like a super fun bunch."

"And what about your family?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

Diya froze.

Oh no.

Her family.

She had been so focused on her suffering that she hadn't even thought about the hell that awaited Parth.

Her mother, who would ask a thousand questions.
Her grandmother, who would probably bless him with a coconut and expect grandchildren by next year.
Her brother, who would 100% threaten Parth with a kitchen knife.

She looked at him, almost pitying him. "Parth. Listen. I don't think you're prepared for this."

His gaze remained steady. "I can handle it."

She shook her head, genuinely concerned. "No, no, you don't understand. My family is... a lot."

He gave a slight smirk. "I deal with billion-dollar negotiations and hostile takeovers daily. I think I can handle dinner with your family."

Diya sighed. "Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She grabbed a pen. "Fine. I agree to your weird marriage contract."

Parth extended his hand.

They shook on it.

And just like that—Diya Roy was now "engaged" to Parth Malhotra.

--

Later that evening, Diya sat in her family home, mentally preparing herself for war.

Her mother, Sunita Roy, was setting the table, humming happily, completely unaware of the bomb Diya was about to drop.

Her grandmother sat nearby, knitting something suspiciously baby-sized.

Her younger brother, Aryan, was scrolling through his phone, completely uninterested in family drama.

Diya took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"Ma... Dadi... I have something to tell you."

Sunita turned, bright-eyed with excitement. "Oh? Is it about that nice boy Kabir from next door? He's always—"

"No, Ma!" Diya groaned. "It's about me! I... I'm engaged."

Silence.

Then, like a storm gathering in the distance, her grandmother perked up.

"Engaged?"

Diya forced a smile. "Uh... yeah."

Her mother gasped. "To WHO?"

"...Parth Malhotra."

Her brother snorted. "The rich dude from the news? Yeah, sure. And I'm secretly a Bollywood actor."

Diya glared at him. "I'm serious!"

Sunita looked suspicious. "But you've never mentioned him before."

Diya waved her hands dramatically. "It was... a whirlwind romance!"

Her grandmother clapped her hands. "Aha! Just like in the serials!"

Sunita's suspicion didn't fade. "I want to meet him."

Diya paled. "Uh. Now?"

Sunita crossed her arms. "Yes. Call him."

Diya grabbed her phone, praying Parth wouldn't kill her for this.

---

Thirty minutes later, Parth arrived at the Kapoor household.

Dressed in his usual expensive suit, he looked completely out of place in their cozy, chaotic home.

Sunita examined him like a detective.

Her grandmother, meanwhile, poked his arm. "So strong! Good for carrying grandchildren!"

Parth blinked.

Diya wanted to die.

"DADI!"

Her grandmother ignored her. "Tell me, Parth beta, do you like aloo paratha?"

He hesitated. "...Yes?"

She beamed. "Then we will get along just fine!"

Meanwhile, Aryan leaned toward Diya, whispering. "I don't trust him."

"Why?" she whispered back.

Aryan narrowed his eyes. "He hasn't checked his phone once. That's unnatural."

Diya resisted the urge to strangle her brother.

Sunita finally spoke. "How did you two meet?"

Parth, ever the liar, answered smoothly, "Fate."

Diya nearly choked.

Sunita narrowed her eyes. "Fate?"

"Yes," Parth continued. "The moment I saw Diya, I knew she was special."

Diya kicked him under the table.

He didn't even flinch.

Sunita sighed. "Alright. You have my blessing."

Diya gasped. "Wait, just like that?"

Her mother shrugged. "You need all the help you can get, beta."

Parth smirked. "I agree."

Diya kicked him again.

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