Morning light streamed through the tall glass windows of Ruaan’s mansion, spilling warmth across the minimalist kitchen.

The air was calm, the kind of calm that comes before a storm—Ruaan Sharma just didn’t know his storm was wearing a silk saree and walking toward him with perfectly done hair.

He sat at the dining table, scrolling through his tablet while casually eating his breakfast. For once, life seemed... peaceful.

The media drama from the day before had finally settled down, and Arnika hadn’t stormed into his office to fight again.

Peace, indeed.

Until—

The sharp click of heels echoed through the hallway.

He looked up—and froze.

“Mom?” Ruaan blinked, almost choking on his coffee.

Mrs. Sharma stood there, suitcase in one hand, purse in the other, expression halfway between disbelief and drama.

‘Mom?’ so you remember you have a mon !?” she scolded, striding toward him with impressive grace for her age. “You—how dare you—”

Before he could stand, smack!

Her palm landed lightly on his shoulder. Not harsh, just full of motherly exasperation.

Ruaan rubbed the spot and tried not to laugh.

“What was that for?”

“That,” she said, pointing a finger at him, “was for making a public announcement about your fiancée without even telling your own mother!”

Ruaan blinked. “Oh… that.”

“Yes, that!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Do you know how I found out? I didn’t even get a call from my son. I got a call from Mrs. Khanna from Delhi! Mrs. Khanna!”

He tried to hide his smile. “Well, she’s always the first to know everything…”

“Ruaan!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Mom. I wanted to surprise you.”

Her glare softened just a little.

“Surprise? Oh, you definitely did. I nearly spilled my tea.”

Ruaan chuckled, reaching for her suitcase. “You didn’t have to fly all the way here for that, you know.”

“Oh, please. You think I’d stay back when my only son is secretly getting married?” she said, brushing him aside. “No, no, no. You don’t move, I’m taking over.”

“Taking over what?” he asked cautiously.

“The wedding, obviously,” she said, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “I have so much to do—guest lists, decorations, mehendi theme—oh, and I need to meet this Arnika girl. At least you picked a beautiful one, so I’ll pass this time.”

“Mom—”

“No arguments! I’ll start the preparations right away,” she said, waving her phone like a weapon. “I have so much to prepare for the wedding"

He stared at her, disbelief written all over his face.

"Prepare ? for what?”

“For your wedding, of course!” she said sweetly, and disappeared into the hallway with a determined stride.

Ruaan groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“This,” he muttered, “is going to be a disaster.”

Later that morning — Office

Arnika stood stiffly near the glass desk in Ruaan’s cabin, holding a file close to her chest.

She had barely slept the night before, and now every time she saw his face, she remembered his words — “Think of it as a contract marriage.”

She had no idea what was worse — the fake engagement, the media drama, or the fact that his name and hers were trending on social media under #RuArniCoupleGoals.

The world thought they were in love.

In reality, they could barely agree on who should speak first.

Ruaan walked in, looking unusually serious, followed by Vedh.

They began discussing the eco-luxury villa project near Pune — the one that had been on hold for weeks.

Arnika silently took notes while they talked numbers, architecture, and investors.

But the tension in the air wasn’t about business.

Every time Vedh looked at her, she could feel the weight of his gaze.

Every time Ruaan spoke, she could sense Vedh’s smirk growing sharper.

When the discussion ended, Vedh straightened his coat, pretending nonchalance.

“Well, I’d say we’ve got a promising plan,” he said. Then his tone shifted casually, “So, Ruaan… when’s the wedding?”

Arnika froze.

Ruaan didn’t even blink. “Soon,” he said curtly.

Vedh smiled slowly, eyes darting between the two of them.

“Good. I’ll look forward to it,” he said, and left the room, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble floor.

The door closed behind him.

Ruaan exhaled deeply, turning toward Arnika, who was still processing what just happened.

Her voice was quiet, wary. “What did he mean by that?”

Ruaan adjusted his tie and said in his usual calm tone, “We’re getting married. In three days.”

Arnika blinked. “What?”

Ruaan looked at her, expression unreadable. “My mother’s in town. She’s planning everything. We can’t back out now.”

Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me—what do you mean we can’t back out now?! I didn’t even agree to—”

He cut her off, walking past her to his desk.

“Relax, Arnika. It’s still just a contract. Nothing changes except for the ring and some rituals. Think of it as… damage control.”

She glared at him. “Damage control? You call a marriage damage control?!”

He met her glare with unnerving calm.

“If you don’t like it, then find another way to shut the media up and keep my company’s reputation clean,” he said, leaning slightly forward. “Because right now, you’re part of the story too.”

Arnika’s heart raced. Her voice shook. “You’re unbelievable.”

Ruaan gave a small, humorless smile.

“I’ve been told that before."

.

.

As the sun set over the glass towers of the Sharma Empire building, Arnika sat alone at her desk, staring at her reflection in the screen.

Three days.

Three days to pretend to be the fiancée of the man who drove her insane.

Three days before her fake wedding became the city’s next big event.

And three days before she might lose whatever little normalcy was left in her life.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Mrs. Sharma was finalizing the guest list and smiling to herself.

“I can already tell,” she said to the event planner on the phone, “my son’s bride is going to be perfect for him.”

Ruaan — that night

He stood on his balcony, phone in hand, staring at the news headlines again.

The photos from the announcement. The word “fiancée” printed next to his name.

He took a deep breath.

He didn’t know what he hated more — the lie itself or how natural it had begun to sound in his head.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Vedh.

“Congratulations again, Mr. Sharma.

You and Arnika look perfect together.

But be careful — perfect things have a way of breaking easily.”

Ruaan’s jaw tightened. He locked his phone and looked out at the city lights.

Somewhere deep down, a small, unwelcome feeling stirred — one he didn’t understand yet.

He wasn’t sure if it was anger… or something far more dangerous.

To be continued....