Underlined terms will be explained at the end of the chapter for any non-desi readers. Feel free to ask me any questions if you are confused.

"You know, if anyone other than our family were to look at you now, they'd think one of two things: you're a grumpy asshole or you have severe constipation."

I snapped my head away from the car window, where I had been watching the city blur past, and turned towards Aditya. He was staring at me with a smug look on his face, clearly enjoying the effect of his words. "And if you weren't my brother, your head would be in either of two places: under the car tires or on a golden plate, separated from the rest of your body."

He rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat to face me more directly. "Seriously though. You'll never get married unless you change that resting bitch face of yours."

"Who said I wanted to?"

Aditya choked and coughed violently, and even the driver, Pinto uncle, faltered for a moment as he navigated through the traffic. I chuckled at their reaction. No one had expected that response, especially since I had agreed to meet the girl and her family without any fuss. Everyone assumed I was ready. I wasn't.

"What do you mean you don't want to? You do realize that everyone's serious about this whole situation, right? I mean, our mothers have practically planned everything up to the wedding. Hell, they've even matched their jewelry to their outfits for the wedding."

"You talk a lot." I turned my head back to the window, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky. Aditya huffed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes, clearly giving up on trying to get a rise out of me.

"And you don't talk at all," he mumbled under his breath, but I heard him. I laughed quietly at his dramatics.

"Are you going to reject the girl? Just so you remain single?" he asked, his eyes still closed. I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see me.

"No. I'll do whatever Mom and Dad want me to do." He nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed, his neck extended, head resting against the seat.

"Why are you so concerned about me getting married anyway?"

"Because the sooner you get married, the better for our sanity. Besides, you still have three brothers waiting in line who can't get married until you do. I'm not getting any younger, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"I mean, you are the oldest, hence you need to get married. And unless you get married, I can't get married. And unless I get married, Kunal can't get married. And until Kunal gets married, Harish can't get married." He took a deep breath after his unnecessary explanation.

"Not that, you bozo. I meant the sanity part." He opened his eyes to look at me.

"Oh that? It's just that you've been a pain in the ass in the office these days, you know, barking orders, short-tempered, and hot-headed. Maybe a wife would calm you down, keep you distracted." He shrugged. "Right, Pinto uncle?" He winked at our driver through the mirror, who chuckled at the question before nodding his head, catching my eyes in the reflection. Pinto uncle wasn't just a driver; he was practically family, having worked for us since my father took over from my grandfather.

I groaned inwardly. How long was this ride?

The car journey seemed endless, stretching on as Aditya's words echoed in my mind. Could marriage really change me? Would it be the antidote to my restlessness, my irritability? I wasn't convinced. But if it brought peace to my family, then perhaps it was a sacrifice worth making.

With a resigned sigh, I leaned back, closing my eyes, and let the hum of the engine lull my racing thoughts.

The silence in the car was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional honk of passing vehicles and the steady rhythm of the engine. I could feel Aditya's eyes on me again, but this time he said nothing. Perhaps he sensed that there was no point in pushing further, at least for now.

After what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived at our destination: a mansion surrounded by a meticulously manicured garden. The house loomed before us, a symbol of tradition and expectation. My heart pounded as Pinto uncle expertly maneuvered the car into the driveway and came to a smooth stop right behind two others.

"Here we are," he announced, his tone light, as if trying to ease the tension that hung in the air.

Aditya opened his door and stepped out, stretching his limbs. "Ready to meet your future in-laws?" he teased, flashing me a grin. I shot him a withering look but said nothing, instead focusing on steadying my breath.

We were greeted at the door by a servant who led us through the house to a spacious living room where the girl's family awaited us. The room was tastefully decorated, exuding an air of warmth and elegance. I noted the nervous energy in the room, the curious glances directed my way.

My mother and father were already there, engaged in animated conversation with the girl's parents. When they saw us, my mother's face lit up with a radiant smile. "There you are!" she exclaimed, coming over to give us both a hug. "Come, come, sit down. Everyone is eager to meet you."

I took a seat next to Aditya, my eyes scanning the room. The clinking of glasses and quiet murmur of conversations created a background hum, one that I would have normally found soothing, but today, it only heightened the tension pressing against my chest. I had barely settled into my seat when the vibration in my pocket shattered my concentration.

I retrieved my phone from the inside pocket of my suit jacket and saw the name flash on the screen—Priya. My assistant never called after hours unless it was urgent, but I wasn't in the mood to entertain her either.

"Speak," I muttered into the phone, my voice a mix of annoyance and impatience, already bracing for whatever mishap had unfolded this time.

"Mr. Nanda," Priya's voice came through, slightly breathless, "the meeting with the London party... it's scheduled for 1:30 p.m."

I blinked. "Yes, tomorrow afternoon. I'm aware, Priya. I don't think I need reminding every two hours." I was about to pull the phone from my ear when her frantic voice interrupted.

"No, sir! It's actually today. I mean, right now! The time—it's GMT, not IST."

I froze. My heart dropped, and I glanced at my watch in disbelief. There were only five minutes left until the meeting time.

"Are you kidding me?" I muttered under my breath, my pulse quickening. The weight of the situation hit me all at once, a sense of urgency spreading through me like wildfire. I had no choice but to act fast.

"You better pray this deal goes well, Priya, or you'll be hearing from me," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, though I could feel the irritation creeping into my tone. I didn't wait for her response. There was no time.

I turned to Aditya, my frustration evident. "Adi, car keys," I snapped, already moving toward the door.

Aditya, ever perceptive, wasted no time. He signaled to Pinto Uncle, who threw me the keys with a practiced flick of his wrist. I caught them midair, barely acknowledging my mother's protests. I could explain later. Right now, I needed to focus.

I scanned the backseat of the car as I slid into the driver's seat. There it was, the file I'd taken from the office earlier. We had come directly from work to this house, but there was no time to waste. I grabbed the file, slipping it under my arm before heading back inside.

As I entered the room, I muted the phone and gave the room a quick scan. All eyes were on me, confused, but I couldn't afford an explanation right now.

"I know this is very absurd and upsetting to all of you, but I don't mean any disrespect," I said, trying to keep my tone apologetic, though my voice betrayed my urgency. "I have a little work issue I need to sort out right now."

My family and our hosts exchanged glances, some looking disappointed, others understanding. Eventually, the realization settled in, and they nodded. It was only then that I breathed a little easier.

The man I assumed to be the girl's father stepped forward, a soft smile on his face. "It's very windy today," he said, gesturing to the stairs. "You can go upstairs. There's better signal there. Karan, take him upstairs, please."

Karan, the son, looked at me with a polite nod and motioned for me to follow him. I didn't argue. The last thing I wanted was to get caught in a maze of awkward questions.

"I appreciate it," I said, offering the man a brief nod of thanks before following Karan upstairs.

"You'll have all the privacy you need here," Karan assured me, opening the door to what appeared to be a study. I entered, and as the door clicked shut behind me, I quickly resumed my work, grateful for the solitude.

It didn't take long before Priya's voice came through the line again. I updated her on the situation, and after a few tense minutes, the client on the other end of the call assured me he would be happy to proceed with the deal. The weight in my chest lifted just a little, and I let out a soft, relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Priya," I said, cutting the call.

As I gathered myself, still gripped by the urgency of the moment, I stepped back into the corridor, still clutching the file. That's when I noticed one of the workers struggling to balance a decorative item on a chair, trying to attach it to the doorframe. A strong gust of wind blew through the open balcony, knocking him off balance. Without thinking, I threw the file and my phone onto a nearby chair and rushed forward.

I caught the man just before he hit the ground, steadying him with a firm grip on his arm. The chair crashed to the floor with a sharp thud, its legs scraping against the wood, sending a jolt through the quiet room. The door stopper, knocked off its hinge in the chaos, clattered to the ground. It broke apart into splintered fragments, scattering in every direction as they slid across the floor like a trail of broken promises. The air grew tense, heavy with the echoes of the fall.

"Thank you, sir," he gasped, clearly shaken.

"Don't mention it, Uncle," I said, offering him a smile. "I hope you didn't hurt yourself."

"Bless you, son," he muttered, picking up the chair and heading toward the stairs. I watched him go, making sure he was steady on his feet before straightening my suit.

But then, just as I turned to head back toward the stairs, another gust of wind slammed the door shut with a deafening bang.

I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound. I placed a hand on my chest, trying to steady my racing heart.

"Damn it," I muttered, walking toward the door. I grabbed the handle, expecting to step out to join the rest, but the door wouldn't budge.

I tried again. And again.

It was jammed.

I cursed under my breath. This was not the time. My phone was outside, lying on a random chair, and I had no way of calling anyone. The workers were probably too far away to hear me.

"Sir! The door is jammed," a voice called out from the other side, barely audible.

"I know." I said in frustration, pulling on the door as if it would open magically. The only thing I was successful in doing was knocking off the door knob. I gasped in shock as the sphere came into hands from the force.

Great.

"I'll get help, don't worry," the worker called back, his footsteps fading as he sprinted down the stairs.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the stubborn door, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I could hear the laughter and chatter from below, unaware of the chaos unfolding just above them. A small part of me found the absurdity of it all amusing, but it didn't change the fact that I was trapped, with no phone, no way to contact anyone.

~

2152 words

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