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Tonight feels like a test—one I'm not sure I want to pass.

Another week has passed, and the pressure is mounting. Every day, the same question from my mom: 'Have you made your decision yet?' As if constant calls weren't enough, now she's enlisted Mihir to pester me for an answer too. He's no better.

"For the love of God, Adhira," Mihir sighs on the phone. "Just say something—anything—to get Mom off our backs."

He's tired of playing mediator, and honestly, I don't blame him. But it's not that simple. Decisions like this? They're never simple.

For once, I'm actually glad I don't live with my parents anymore. Physical distance helps... a little. The emotional one? Not so much. Mom still shows up every evening with a Tupperware full of food and a side of guilt-laden questions. 'You need to give an answer, Adhira. This can't drag on forever.' she insists, as if I'm wasting precious time. It's almost as if she thinks I'm the one keeping the suspense alive.

It's been a week since I last spoke to Rishabh. And the truth? I'm more confused than I've ever been. I thought after he left my apartment, I'd have some clarity. Instead, it's like someone took a snow globe and shook it up inside my head. We have each other's numbers, sure, but the silence between us is... heavy. It's like we're both pretending we didn't just have the world's most heart felt - awkward, confusing, borderline life-changing conversation.

It's not a 'no,' not yet. But it's definitely not a 'yes' either. Is this what I want for the rest of my life? To step into a world that's not mine, to be with someone I barely know—a family that comes with expectations I'm not sure I can meet?

I stand in front of the mirror, smoothing down my dress for the hundredth time, wondering if Rishabh will even show up. Am I really doing this? I invited him. Me. Adhira Rathore. To my event. Why? To show him my world? To prove to myself that I don't need his? Maybe it's a bit of both.

I promised myself I'd have an answer by tonight. One way or another. The problem is, I still can't figure out what the right answer is.

I glance at my phone, still sitting there with an unsent message. And there it is—the decision I've been avoiding, taunting me like some evil little gremlin. All it would take is one text. One simple press of a button, and I could be done with the whole mess. But no. I'm caught in this limbo, unsure of what I want—what I really want. A prince? A kingdom? Or my life, the one I've built with my own hands? It's ridiculous that the answer isn't obvious.

With a sigh, I grab my clutch. I'm late. The party's already started, and I'm supposed to be the guest of honor. It's my night—the one where I get to bask in my success. I should be excited. And I am, but this other thing... this looming decision... it's taking up all the space in my mind. I can't escape it. Not even tonight.

I slip into my car and drive through the crowded streets of Mumbai, the city buzzing with life as usual. It should feel like home. But right now, everything feels... distant. Like I'm standing on the outside of my own life, looking in.

When I pull up to the office building, I spot Muskan waiting for me outside, her smile the only thing that feels real. Thank God for Muskan. She's my constant, the only person who knows how to keep me from completely losing it.

"You look—not you," she teases as she pulls me into a hug.

I laugh, but it's more out of nerves than anything. "That's exactly how I feel."

"Just smile," she says, looping her arm through mine. "You've got this. It's your night."

I don't correct her. I should be excited. I should be soaking in the moment, enjoying every second of it. But all I can think about is whether or not Rishabh is going to show up. It feels ridiculous. It's my night, and yet here I am, waiting on a man to make it feel real.

I haven't told anyone. This is my space, my life, and I've kept him separate from it for a reason. But tonight, I've invited him in. And I don't know what that means.

The party is already in full swing. Colleagues congratulate me, offer me drinks, and toast to my success. I smile and thank them, pretending to enjoy the moment, but I can't help glancing at the door every few minutes. Waiting. Wondering.

Muskan is chatting beside me, her words washing over me as I nod along, not really listening. My eyes keep darting to the entrance. It's ridiculous. I should be present, soaking in this night, but all I can think about is whether he's going to walk through that door.

There he is.

My stomach tightens the second I spot him—Rishabh Singh Devgarh, walking through the door like he's the world's best-kept secret. The room practically parts for him as he moves, his presence commanding attention without him even trying. And that suit. The man knows how to wear a suit, I'll give him that. Simple, yet somehow it makes him look like he should be in a museum somewhere—displayed as a work of art.

I feel it in my chest—nervousness, excitement, something more. My body betrays me again. Before I can even process it, his eyes find mine, and I freeze. I swear time slows down. This is it. The decision I've been running from, all wrapped up in a man I'm not sure I even know.

Rishabh starts making his way toward me, his expression calm, unreadable. He's always been good at that—hiding whatever storm might be brewing inside.

"Is it just me or is he walking in slow motion?" Muskan whispers beside me, her voice a mix of awe and mischief.

I force myself to look away from him, my heart still pounding. "It's probably your drink, Muskan."

She leans in closer, eyes wide with excitement. "Holy smokes, he's angelic."

I bite back a laugh, trying to maintain some composure, but it's impossible. I can feel this electricity building as Rishabh gets closer, like the room's shrinking around us. He doesn't even have to try—he just commands attention.

"You're embarrassing yourself," I mutter under my breath, hoping she'll tone it down.

Muskan, of course, snorts, totally unbothered. "I'd embarrass myself a thousand times for a chance to be in his orbit. How are you even breathing around him?"

I'm pretty sure people nearby are starting to take bets on who's going to faint first.

It's me. I'm going to faint first.

"Seriously, Adhira, where did you find him? Oh, wait—I know. You didn't. Your parents did." She grins, nudging me again. "Does he have a twin? Asking for a friend."

"Muskan!" I hiss, feeling my cheeks heat up. I can sense Rishabh getting closer, and the last thing I need is for her to make me blush even more before the prince says a word.

But Muskan just keeps going. "Oh no, I can't let this go. Look at him! That jawline? Those eyes? Adhira, this is next level." She fans herself dramatically, and I catch a few amused glances from people nearby.

I press my lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. Then Rishabh is standing in front of us, and I can barely keep it together.

"Adhira," he says, his voice low and smooth, and—great, now I'm definitely going to pass out. "Good evening."

There it is. That knowing smile. Like this isn't just a casual hello—this is the start of a whole other emotional rollercoaster.

He looks at Muskan, his gaze polite, curious, and—oh my god, Muskan's eyes practically bug out, and for a second, I think she might actually explode from excitement.

I could practically hear her thoughts -
He looked at me.
Adhira, he looked at me.

"Hi, I'm Muskan. The best friend," she says with a grin, sticking out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Your Highness."

I barely hold back an eye-roll as she practically curtsies while shaking his hand. But Rishabh, of course, handles it like a pro, smiling and shaking her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Muskan."

"The pleasure's all mine," she replies, giving me a wink that almost makes me want to sink into the floor.

As much as I want her gone right now, I'm kind of thankful she's doing all the talking.

"Well, if you two need to talk—" Muskan raises her eyebrows dramatically—"I'll just be over there. Keeping an eye on things. Like a very responsible friend."

And just like that, she's off, leaving me alone with... him. The man who seems to have mastered the art of making me lose all sense of normal human behavior.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The noise of the room fades, and I can't think of anything except the intensity of his gaze. It's like he's waiting for me to say something, but my brain refuses to cooperate.

"You actually made it," I finally manage, my voice steadier than I feel.

"I did say I wouldn't miss it," he replies, that subtle confidence in his tone making it hard to tell if he's teasing or being completely sincere.

I glance over at Muskan, who's standing off to the side, motioning wildly for me to drink something. Rishabh catches it too, and a quiet chuckle escapes him.

"You've got quite the entourage," he says, amusement still lingering in his voice as he nods in her direction.

I laugh despite myself. "Muskan is... well, she's a lot. No filter whatsoever. But I wouldn't survive without her."

His smile softens, and for a brief moment, his eyes hold mine with something warmer, gentler. "Congratulations, Adhira Rathore."

Stop saying my name like it's some poetic Urdu word.

"Thank you, Your Highness," I say, trying to match his teasing tone, though the gratitude in my words is real.

I can feel people around us sneaking glances, probably wondering who this mysterious man is talking to me.

Rishabh chuckles. "I've told you before, Adhira, you don't need to address me that way."

"I have to," I reply lightly, though there's an edge to my words. "I haven't said yes to the marriage yet, have I? Until then, I'm still just a commoner."

His smile falters for just a second, and guilt rushes through me. I didn't mean to bring up the marriage proposal. Not here. Not like this.

Before I can say anything more, the click of heels interrupts, pulling us both back to the moment.

"Oh—who is the handsome man we have with you, Adhira?"

My heart practically leaps out of my chest as I spot one of my senior colleagues approaching, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. Great. Just great. I stiffen, trying desperately to keep my composure, while Rishabh, of course, gives her that perfect, polite smile.

"Ma'am, this is Rishabh. A friend."

I manage to say, though the word friend feels completely foreign on my tongue. Like a pair of shoes that don't fit. I can't call him the prince or mention the messy, confusing situation between us, so 'friend' will have to do for now. Barely.

My senior's eyebrow shoots up, skepticism written all over her face. She glances between us with a look that says she knows something's up. "A friend, hmm? You've never brought anyone to the office before. He must be special."

Rishabh shifts slightly beside me, the corner of his mouth lifting into that subtle, infuriatingly charming smirk. I can already feel the blood rushing to my face. He stays silent, of course, just letting the moment unfold like some spectator at an opera.

"Oh, I remember her saying, on multiple occasions, that she'd only date a tall, masculine, lovey-dovey man who couldn't breathe when she ignored his existence." Her voice is practically dripping with mischief. "You look exactly the type. So, when are the wedding bells ringing?"

I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Did she seriously just say that? In front of him? My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, but no words come out.

Who gave her the right to speak?

And Rishabh—oh, of course—chuckles. He's clearly enjoying my mortification.

"Well, I'm flattered to fit the description," he says smoothly, voice as calm and controlled as ever. "But as of now, we're just enjoying each other's company."

Just enjoying each other's company? My mind spirals for a second, grasping at what that even means. The embarrassment, the tension—it's too much. I want to crawl under a rock. Right now.

"Enjoying each other's company?" My colleague raises an eyebrow, her tone both amused and a little probing. "That sounds like a diplomatic way to say something else. Are we sure it's just that?"

People can't mind their own business for five seconds.

I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. This is exactly why I hate mixing personal and professional lives. Nothing good comes from it.

Rishabh, however, is unbothered by the scrutiny, a faint smile still playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, I like to think we're keeping things low-key. No need to rush into labels, right?"

He turns to me as if we are in on some inside joke, though I'm pretty sure I'm the only one scrambling to make sense of the situation.

I swallow hard, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I'm caught between the desperate urge to laugh it off and the overwhelming need to bury myself in a hole somewhere.

Low-key?
Nothing about this situation, our situation - is low-key.
I am practically standing on a throne - one decision away from being his partner, the Princess of Rajsharan.
This is anything but low-key. My life in one second might turn into a Disney movie for teenage girls to drool over.

"Well, whatever the case may be, he's a catch, Adhira. Don't let him slip away." And with that, she walks off, leaving me standing there like an idiot, my heart pounding in my chest.

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding, my thoughts spinning in a hundred directions. I glance around the room—too many people, too much noise, too many eyes on us.

I need air. I need space. I need—

"Can we go somewhere quieter?" I ask, turning to Rishabh before my brain even catches up with my mouth.

He nods, understanding immediately, and follows me out of the crowded room. We walk down the hallway to my office—my little sanctuary—and as we step inside, the quiet envelops us. Finally. Peace.

Rishabh looks around, his eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail. Everything on my desk is perfectly organized, of course. My space is neat, controlled—exactly how I like it. His gaze lingers on the photo frames—one of my family and another of me and Muskan. I can see the flicker of something on his face as he takes it all in.

"This is my life, Rishabh," I say, my voice barely a whisper, but I know he hears me. Somehow, he always does.

"I wanted you to see this," I continue, a bit louder now. "I wanted you to understand what I'm leaving behind if I say yes."

He doesn't say anything, but I can see his expression softening, his eyes taking in everything, not just the room, but what it represents. There's no judgment—just calm acceptance. Almost too calm. I watch as he moves closer, his fingers brushing against the frame with the picture of my family. There's a flicker of something—regret?—in his eyes before it vanishes, like it was never there.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts racing. "I'm at a stage in my career," I say, more resolutely now. "Where I hardly think about myself, let alone about a boy or marriage. I'm focused, driven. And then...you come into my life. The Prince. An unexpected twist—a marriage proposal." I pause, my eyes locking onto his with a sharp intensity I don't even know where I found. "You tell me, Rishabh. What am I supposed to do with all of this?"

He doesn't flinch, doesn't look away. He understands more than I give him credit for. But that only makes this harder.

I let out a frustrated breath, the question that's been gnawing at me for weeks finally spilling out. "Tell me something, Rishabh. Be honest. Do you even want this marriage?"

The silence between us feels heavy, like the air is thick with unsaid things. Then, finally, he says it. Quietly. Calmly.

"No."

One word. And yet it feels like a punch to the gut.

I wasn't expecting him to say it out loud. Not like this. Hearing it spoken, with such finality, leaves me momentarily stunned. I stare at him, searching his face for... what? Regret? Guilt? Anything that makes sense of why we're both standing here, pretending to consider a future that neither of us wants.

"Then why are we even here?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intended. "Why go through all of this—the meetings, the formalities—if neither of us wants this?"

His jaw clenches slightly, but his eyes remain steady, firm. "Because this isn't just about what I want, Adhira. My family has expectations. Your family has expectations. We didn't come here to choose for ourselves—we came here because everyone else has already made the choice for us."

His words hit me like a cold, hard slap of reality. Of course. Expectations. Family. Duty. The same old story, told over and over.

I feel the frustration bubbling up inside me, hot and uncontrollable.

"Correction—I was thrown into this," I snap, my voice shaking slightly. "You already had the idea. Maybe you were born to be obligated to your family, to the royal crown, or whatever traditions you're supposed to uphold. But I am not." I take a breath, steadying myself. "You had a lifetime to prepare for this! I barely had weeks."

His expression darkens, and I can see the frustration in his eyes now. But it's not directed at me. It's directed at something else—at the same invisible chain that's been pulling both of us around.

"You think I haven't tried?" His voice is quieter now, almost a growl. "You think I haven't wanted to say 'no' to all of this? But there's no way out."

The words hit me like ice water. I don't even know why I'm so pissed off about it..

"That's exactly the problem! There's no way out for you in this. But I can't be in a marriage where my husband stays with me because of some obligation. Every step he takes with me is watched. It will suffocate me, and before you know it, it'll kill me. I refuse to let that be my reality!"

And then—God help me—he shifts.

He steps into my space. Close. Too close. So close I can feel his breath on my cheek, the heat radiating off him like he's some kind of furnace. I freeze, but I can't back away. His presence is suffocating, but I can't escape it.

"Just say the word, Adhira," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, like a storm about to break. "Just say no."

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Oh no.
What is wrong with them.
Did you guys think Adhira would say yes?
What will happen next?