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Aaravika
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The soft knock on the door, followed by Parth’s voice, drags me back from my spiraling thoughts. “Didi, neeche bula rahe hain,” he calls out, his words a cruel reminder that the nightmare is about to unfold. I nod, my chest tightening with a mixture of dread and—dare I say it—anticipation. I can feel the butterflies, but they’re not the romantic kind. These are the butterflies that feel like they’re made of acid and desperation, fluttering wildly in my stomach.

Shruti catches my eye, her hand squeezing mine like she’s trying to tether me to reality. I almost laugh at how we both know this is all going to crash and burn, but I’m not quite in the mood for humor. Not today. Not when I’m about to face a man I barely know, a man who’s going to be tied to my life for the next ten months—if I survive that long.

We make our way down the stairs, the air thick with tension. My bua’s voice cuts through the silence before I can even breathe. “Wahan kya kar rahi ho? Jaldi jao aur guests ke liye chai aur coffee banao.”

(“What are you doing there? Go quickly and make tea and coffee for the guests.”)

I exchange a look with Shruti, whose eyebrows shoot up in that classic “Oh, this again” way. “Kitne cups banane hain?” I ask, trying to sound normal, but my voice cracks like a cracked pot.

(“How many cups should we make?”)

Bua rolls her eyes like she’s tolerating an idiot. “Teen chai, do coffee. Aur jaldi karo. Guests ko wait mat karvao.”

(“Three teas, two coffees. And hurry. Don’t keep the guests waiting.”)

Shruti smirks as we head into the kitchen, and I can almost hear her thinking, Can she ever just say ‘please’ for once? “Woh kabhi gentle ho sakti hain kya?” I mutter under my breath, pouring boiling water into teacups.

(“Can she ever be gentle?”)

“Lagta toh nahi hai,” Shruti answers, not missing a beat. “Aur aaj ke din toh aur bhi… sab kuch ajeeb lag raha hai.”

(“Doesn’t seem like it. And today, of all days… everything feels off.”)

“I swear, this feels like a bad Bollywood movie,” I mutter, shaking my hands slightly as I try to steady myself. My thoughts are a mess, a cacophony of worries, but right now? Right now, I have to pretend everything is fine. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll survive without burning the kitchen down.

Shruti nudges me as I pour the last bit of coffee into a cup. “Relax, hum ye kar lenge.”

(“Relax, we’ll get it done.”)

I hope she’s right, because I’m one breath away from launching myself into a full-blown panic attack. I glance at her and force a smile that feels as fake as a cheap sari. “Haan… bas aaj ka din nikal jaye.”

(“Yeah… I just need to get through today.”)

As we head back to the sitting area with the tray, my heart is a drum in my chest, pounding so hard I think the whole house can hear it. When we step into the room, my father’s gaze lands on me with the precision of a hawk. He’s standing at the doorway, his posture stiff, his eyes cold, as always. “Ah, Vayran ko coffee bhi do,” he orders, looking directly at me.

(“And serve Vayran coffee as well.”)

There he is, the man who’s about to ruin whatever fragile semblance of control I had left. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what feels like an execution.

I step forward, tray in hand, my hands shaking so violently I’m surprised nothing spills. The moment I look up at him, though, the world seems to blur around me.

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Hi! Aasha hai ki iss shabnam🌸 ka yeh bhi chapter pasandh aaya hoga😁🤌 I know it's short but still. Also, don't forget to like and follow🥰 Also, don't forget to comment too😘
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