Abhijay's POV

I couldn't wrap my head around it; how could she do that? This was my life, my decisions.

Frustration boiled over as I stood abruptly as soon as she hung up. Grabbing my car keys, I barely glanced at the mess of papers and belongings strewn across the desk. There was no time. Storming out of the office, I slammed the door shut behind me, the sharp sound echoing through the hall and drawing startled glances from the nearby employees. Their looks barely registered; I didn't care.

I gave the guard a quick nod as I strode toward my car, my mind racing. Once inside, I jammed the key into the ignition and hit redial, calling the one person I knew could handle this—my sister. The most beloved in the family, after all.

"Nandu, you have to talk to Mom," I said through clenched teeth, glaring at the sea of traffic that refused to move. I slammed the horn, knowing it wouldn't make a difference but doing it anyway, my patience already worn thin.

"Bhai, calm down. What happened?" Her voice, soft with concern, hinted at the panic I was feeling.

"Mom's gone and arranged my marriage, with someone I didn't even know!" I said, frustration dripping from every word.

"Well, why don't you just ask her for the name? Problem solved," Nandu replied, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, her tone far too casual for my current state of mind.

"Nandu—" I started, my voice low, trying to reel in my anger. But the words died in my throat. I couldn't yell at her, not then, not when I was already a wreck.

"Okay, sorry! But seriously? She didn't even ask you? That's... a whole new level of desperation," she said, finally starting to grasp the situation.

"Nandu, just talk to her. I couldn't handle this. I couldn't get married, but I couldn't go against her either," I said, weaving through the now-clearing traffic with a level of patience I barely had.

"What about Dad?" she suggested, hopeful.

"He's under her thumb," I scoffed, shaking my head at the thought.

"Right. Okay, I'll talk to her," she conceded, realizing there was no safer route than tackling Mom head-on. She hung up, leaving me alone in the car as it picked up speed.

Then my phone rang again.

I glanced at the screen, and my hardened expression softened. It was Suha. I picked up instantly, setting the phone in the cup holder as the call connected to the car's Bluetooth.

"Hey, Suha," I said, my tone much calmer, masking the storm inside. She didn't need to see this side of me. She was too innocent for that, and my anger would only scare her.

"Everything okay? You sound rushed," her gentle voice came through, always so caring, always so perceptive.

"Yeah, just in a hurry. Got a meeting," I lied smoothly.

"Are you sure? You sound... upset," she said, as if she could see right through me, like always.

"I'm fine, just a little stressed about the meeting," I lied again. Sorry, Suha.

"Alright. Don't stress too much. Good luck with the meeting; I'll call you later," she said, her sweetness never failing to soften my mood.

I hummed in response, and she hung up. By the time the call ended, I had already pulled into the driveway.

I parked next to my Mercedes, stepped out, and walked toward the house, ringing the doorbell repeatedly in my impatience.

Mom answered, beaming with happiness. Of course, she was.

I didn't bother with pleasantries, brushing past her as I entered the house. "What was this, Mom?" I demanded, stomping into the living room, barely keeping my voice in check.

She rolled her eyes as if my frustration was a minor inconvenience. "You weren't doing anything good for yourself, so I took matters into my own hands. You should have seen the girl!" she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement and pride, as if this was the best gift she could offer.

"Did you forget what I said yesterday? I was not ready for marriage. How many times did I have to say it?" I snapped, trying to keep my tone respectful. She was still my mother, after all.

"Nandu told me the same thing, but trust me, you'd love it once you settled down. You'll see," she said, with an infuriating certainty, as if this was some guaranteed path to happiness. But I knew better. I was too caught up in my career, too used to being seen as the arrogant, driven man who had no time for such things.

"I didn't want to love it!" My voice raised involuntarily, fists clenched at my sides.

"Oh dear, someone was really mad," she said, approaching me and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "We were getting older. I needed to see Nandu married, but before that, you needed to settle down too. I wasn't budging on this. At least see the girl."

She removed her hand and picked up her tablet from the coffee table, her fingers swiftly scrolling through something. I was about to protest when she turned the screen toward me.

My scowl faltered. My breath caught.

My eyes widened in disbelief.

"Her?" I tried to keep my face neutral, though my mind was reeling. Mom probably didn't know that Suhana was my friend; well, she never cared enough to find out. The photo on her tablet confirmed it was Suhana.

"Yes," she nodded, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

Before I could respond, my phone rang. It was her.

Perfect timing. I should have just discussed this fiasco with her directly.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," I muttered, excusing myself as I dashed up the stairs to my room. I locked the door behind me. The call had already cut off.

Just as I was about to call her back, my phone rang again. It was Suhana, calling me this time. Maybe she was about to tell me the same thing I was about to tell her.

I answered immediately. "I have something to tell you. Listen carefully," she said, her voice laced with urgency.

"Me too. But you go first," I replied, already knowing what was coming.

"My dad... he arranged my marriage to some stranger, and I had to say yes..." she confessed in a small, unsure voice.

A chuckle escaped me, but before I could say anything, she cut me off.

"Jay, my dad is sick. You know that. I'm not ready for this, but I couldn't say no. He looked so relieved, and I couldn't break his heart," her voice trembled between contentment at her father's happiness and uncertainty about her own.

My heart sank. I had been planning to refuse this marriage. How could I tell her now? She would find out eventually, but when she did, she wouldn't marry me. Yet, I wanted her to marry me. So why had I even thought of saying no?

A whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind. My heart and brain were at odds, completely out of sync. It felt as if they belonged to two different people.

Should I not tell her? What harm could it do?

She came from an orthodox Rajasthani family. Her father, a modest CA, had always been her world. She was from a not-so-affluent background, and since her mother had left when she was a toddler, she had lived solely with her dad. That's why she was so attached to him, so eager to please him, especially now that his health was failing.

"Jay?!" Suhana's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Huh? Sorry..." I muttered, realizing I had missed part of what she said.

"I thought you died for a second!" she teased, probably rolling her eyes. She loved doing that, something I hated because it reminded me of my mother, who acted like she had a right over me but never truly loved me.

"Still here. Do you know anything about the guy?" I asked, trying to sound curious.

"No, Dad wouldn't tell me. He said girls met their husbands after the wedding and that he would choose the right one for me..." she trailed off, sounding disappointed yet resigned. Her trust in her father was unwavering, which both surprised and pained me.

"He'll pick the best for you," I said, instantly regretting the words. Praising myself hadn't been part of the plan.

"How do you know, Mister?" she asked, genuinely curious. I could almost see her raising an eyebrow, as she often did during our video calls.

"Stop with those expressions, Suha. Makes me want to come over and pull your cheeks," I chuckled, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"How do you know?!" she gasped again, ignoring my attempt to dodge.

"I just do," I shrugged it off, trying to stay casual.

Anyway, since Dad wasn’t doing well, he suggested a court marriage. The groom’s side would get back to us soon," she sighed. Her voice was heavy, not the joyful tone she deserved when talking about her wedding.

"And your dream of a grand Indian wedding?" I asked, settling back onto my bed, surrounded by pillows.

"It’s okay..." she replied, but her voice quivered.

"Are you sure?"

"Hmm."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions. After what felt like forever, she broke it.

"I liked this silence. It felt like an escape from the chaos here."

"Did you need anything?" I asked gently, trying to be the supportive friend I had always been.

"You," she said immediately, and my heart skipped a beat. My eyes widened in shock.

"What?" I blurted out, standing up from the bed in surprise. Maybe her dramatic side was rubbing off on me.

"I meant, I wanted you to leave your busy Mumbai for two days next month and come to Jaipur. I wanted to introduce you to my dad. And of course, you had to be at my wedding. I couldn’t do it with just my dad there, right?"

Her voice shook, and I knew she was holding back tears. She was strong, too strong, but I could hear her heart breaking. I wanted to tell her it was okay to cry, to let it out, but she never cried in front of me.

"Of course," I said softly, my chest tightening with emotion. What was I even thinking?

She hummed in response, but she wasn’t the same. There was a change in her voice, a sadness that hadn’t been there before.

"By the way, weren’t you going to the meeting?" Her voice picked up again, and I bit my lips, trying to think of an excuse.

"I was, but it got cancelled just after our call ended, so I decided to head home." A nervous chuckle left my lips, and I prayed mentally for her to accept this lame excuse of mine.

She didn’t say anything, just a small hum, which put me at a little ease.

"Mom’s calling. I have to go, okay?" I said.

"Hmm," she replied.

That was all she said before the line went dead. I tossed my phone onto the bed and collapsed back against the pillows, closing my eyes as a wave of nervousness surged through me.

"Mahadev, guide me," I whispered, desperation lacing my words as I prayed for a way out.

I remembered the first time I met her. She was cleaning her glasses while walking, dressed in a light blue kurti. She bumped into me, and her glasses shattered on the ground. We were both in our first year of BBM at IIM-A, still learning to navigate life and adulthood.

That moment changed everything.

Her smile was infectious, and her voice was sweet like honey. I walked her to class, insisting it was my fault her glasses broke. Later, I even bought her a new pair and took her out for lunch as an apology. She was so innocent, so pure.

We grew closer after that. She became the person I could confide in, and she never stopped reminding me that she felt safest around me. I was her comfort, her rock, and I was proud of that.

But deep down, I wanted more. I wanted her to love me, to see me the way I saw her.

She was my best friend, or at least that’s what my mind kept telling me. But deep down, my heart knew she was something more.

Three years passed by like a gust of wind, and suddenly, we had to go our separate ways. It stung more than I cared to admit, especially when I thought about how lonely she would be back home.

I moved to Mumbai from Gujarat, while she headed to Jaipur. Despite the distance, we stayed in touch, though I never told anyone about our friendship. Well, except for Anandita, my sister and the one person in the family who truly understood me. My parents never really cared about my personal life. My father, as expected, soon made me the CEO of Malhotra and Sons. Meanwhile, my long-distance friendship with her persisted. It wasn’t easy; it was exhausting and emotionally draining. We hadn’t physically met in seven years, and now, the next time we would see each other would be at her wedding.

Fate, as always, has a cruel sense of humour. Her father probably had no clue about our connection.

I was lost in my thoughts when Anandita banged on the door.

"Yes, Nandu?" I asked, opening it halfway.

"What were you doing in there? I had been knocking for two minutes!" she scolded, pushing her way into my room with an annoyed frown.

I sighed, closing the door behind her.

"Did you see the picture of the girl?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I sat on the edge of my bed, tugging her hand gently to make her sit beside me.

She stumbled for a moment from my pull but steadied herself.

"No, not yet. But you were against this marriage, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful. She knew how indecisive I could be when it came to life-altering decisions.

I shook my head. "I’m not against it. I want to marry her."

Her face was a picture of shock. "But why?"

I took a deep breath, gathering the words that had been weighing on me for years. I explained everything, our friendship, our separation, the unspoken feelings. Her eyes widened with disbelief, just as I’d expected.

"Tell her, bhai. Right now." Her voice was firm, yet laced with care. Even though she was four years younger than me, Anandita had always been the one to push me towards what I felt.

"I can't," I admitted, my voice betraying the helplessness I was trying to hide. "She seemed so happy."

Anandita's expression softened, but her determination didn't waver. "Bhai, she'd be heartbroken."

She was trying so hard to make me see sense, but a part of me was already set on the decision. Going through with the wedding seemed easier. Simpler, for both Suhana and me.

I was about to respond when a knock interrupted us. With great effort, I dragged myself to the door and opened it to reveal my mother. She stepped inside, her expression unreadable.

"I've decided to marry her," I said plainly.

She didn't blink. "Okay," she replied, turning on her heel and walking out without another word.

The anger simmered beneath the surface, but I knew better than to expect anything more from her.

I turned back to Anandita, seeking reassurance. "Okay?" I asked, unsure of myself for the first time in a long while.

She gave me a slow, hesitant nod, her lips forming a slight pout.

"Good girl. Now go and get some sleep. It's late."

"Good night, bhai," she murmured, disappointment clear in her voice as she shuffled out of the room, closing the door with a sharp thud.

And just like that, I was alone again—with nothing but the sound of my thoughts echoing in the empty room.

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