AYANIKA'S POV

"Just meet the boy once."

Maa had repeated that exact sentence seven times since morning.

SEVEN.

I sat at the dining table, stirring my tea with a spoon while Baba hid behind his newspaper, making a failed attempt to avoid the entire situation.

"Maa," I said in an exhausted tone, "I don't want to get married right now."

"It's not like the wedding is tomorrow," Maa instantly replied. "They're just coming to see you."

Ughh not again.

Classic Bengali mother trap.

"Just coming to see you."

After that, the entire family starts their emotional blackmail Olympics.

I leaned back dramatically against my chair.

"You say this every single time," I complained.

"Why are you taking so much tension?" Baba said casually. "Scare these people away too, just like you scared the others away."

I glared at him.

"You're the reason she dares to behave like this," Maa snapped angrily at Baba. "You've spoiled her completely."

Finally, I sighed. "Who are these people anyway?"

Baba finally folded his newspaper and answered calmly, "The Malhotra family."

I stared blankly.

"And I'm supposed to react to that?"

Maa immediately went into whisper-shout mode. "Arre, Advayansh Malhotra!"

Still nothing.

Baba calmly sipped his tea.

"Mumbai-based business family."

"Okay?" I replied without any reaction.

"Very rich." Still the same expression.

"Nice." I said in a not so interested tone.

"Very powerful." He said.

"Congratulations to them." I replied sarcastically.

Maa looked genuinely offended now.

"Anu!"

I stood up from the table while trying to control my laughter. "I don't like rich robotic businessman types."

"You haven't even met him yet," Maa said while following me.

"So what? I can already imagine him. Always in suits. No emotions. 'Business is priority.' Personality of a refrigerator."

Baba unexpectedly burst out laughing.

Maa gave him a deadly glare.

"They are visiting?" I asked mumma.

"Day after tomorrow." She replied.

Day after tomorrow. So the date is already decided.

AUTHOR'S POV

Unfortunately for Ayanika. Her description wasn't entirely wrong, because Advayansh Malhotra really did wear black suits like emotional armor.

And smiling?

That was a rare national event.

ADVAYANSH'S POV

"I'm not getting married." I stood inside my office cabin while Dad calmly sat on the sofa, sipping coffee.

"It's only a meeting," Dad said.

"That's how traps start," I replied.

Dad sighed dramatically.

"Advayansh. You're about to turn thirty."

"Yeah. Tragic," I answered sarcastically.

"You need stability." He added.

Annoying.

"I have stability." I said.

"You have a work obsession." He said again with the same tone.

"A successful work obsession." I replied, with the same not interested tone.

Dad quietly watched me for a few seconds before softly saying,

"You're lonely."

Silence.

My jaw tightened immediately.

"I'm busy." I said.

"Same thing." He replied.

No. Not the same thing.

Busy is temporary. Lonely feels permanent. And maybe that was exactly why the word irritated me so much.

I walked toward my desk and picked up some files, a clear sign that the conversation was over.

Dad obviously ignored it.

"She is nice."

"I don't care." I said unimpressed.

"She's from a Bengali family." He added.

"Hm." I replied.

"She's artistic." He said.

That made me pause slightly. Artistic?

Interesting. Dangerous. Creative people are complicated. Emotional, messy exactly opposite of me.

Dad smirked lightly.

"Scared?"

I immediately scoffed. "No.

"Then meet her." He said.

"Day?" I asked.

"In 2 days."

I hated when logic cornered me.

AYANIKA'S POV

"I'm not wearing a saree," I said to Mumma.

"Wear it," she replied angrily.

"No."

"Anu!." Mumma said.

"Mummaaaa." I replied in the same tone as her.

The living room had officially turned into a courtroom. Maa kept running behind me with a saree while I dodged her from the opposite side of the sofa.

Finally, Baba intervened.

"Let her wear whatever she wants."

I dramatically pointed at him.

"THANK YOU."

Maa muttered while walking away,

"Tomar meye puro pagol."

(Your daughter is completely crazy.)

"Puro tomar moton, dekhte hobe toh kar meye." Baba whispered and walked toward me with a quiet smile.

"Nervous?" He asked.

I was about to deny it instantly. But weirdly, I was a little nervous, not because of marriage excitement, but because the idea of strangers judging you over tea and snacks was horrifying.

"What if he's weird?" I asked.

Baba smiled softly. "What if both of you are weird?"

Fair point.

AUTHOR'S POV

Evening slowly descended over Kolkata.

The air carried the soft smell of rain.

And somewhere across the city, two people equally uninterested in arranged marriage were unknowingly getting ready to meet each other.

Neither of them knew...

Their lives were about to become beautifully complicated.

ADVAYANSH'S POV

"What should I wear?" The second those words left my mouth, my younger cousin Arjun nearly fell off the couch laughing.

"Bhai, are you going to meet a girl or attending fashion week?"

"Shut up," I muttered.

"Please don't wear black."

"I wear black."

"You wear black at funerals, meetings, festivals, birthdays-"

"It's an efficient color," I interrupted.

Arjun dramatically shook his head.

"Poor girl."

I glared at him.

"I'm only going because of family pressure."

"Haan haan." He replied.

"I don't want to get married." I said in the same not interested tone.

"Haan haan."

Same annoying tone again.

"I don't like emotional complications."

"Haa-"

"One more 'haan haan' and I'll throw you out of the house."

Arjun grinned and raised his hands innocently. "Relax. By the way, I saw the her picture."

I looked up briefly. "And?"

"She's pretty." Arjun said.

I immediately returned to my uninterested expression.

"Not relevant."

Arjun smirked suspiciously.

"Bhai, if you ever fall in love, you'll be a dangerous man."

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

AUTHOR'S POV

Kolkata.

City of yellow taxis, old tram lines, rain-soaked evenings, and emotions hidden behind polite smiles. It was evening. The monsoon season had officially begun.

In the old lanes, the smell of rain-soaked earth had dissolved into the air. Under the streetlights, the water shimmered as if someone had poured melted gold over the entire city.

And on the second-floor balcony of an old Bengali house in this very city stood,

Ayanika Sengupta.

White cotton kurti. Wet hair. Tired eyes.

A coffee mug rested in her hands, though the coffee had gone cold long ago.

Down on the street, people were running to escape the rain, but Ayanika had always loved it, because rain is strange, sometimes it washes everything away, sometimes it makes everything even messier, and right now, her life was exactly that.

Messy.

"Ayanika!" Her mother's voice echoed from downstairs.

"The guests are here!"

Ayanika closed her eyes.

Guests.

She had officially started hating that word. In the last two months, so many "guests" had visited that their drawing room had begun to resemble a matrimonial interview hall.

Some engineer.

Some businessman.

Some NRI.

They would look at her. Smile. Drink tea. Ask questions.

"Do you know cooking?"

"Will you continue your job after marriage?"

"You look very quiet... are you shy?"

And then they would leave, as if she wasn't a human being, but a showroom display piece.

Ayanika gripped the balcony railing tightly. She didn't have a problem with marriage, she had a problem with forced marriage, she hated the idea of dissolving into some stranger's surname. She had dreams.

A career in interior designing.

Moving to Mumbai.

Making a name for herself.

But in middle-class families, dreams and marriage sometimes behave like enemy countries. If one arrives, the other has to be sacrificed.

"Anu!" her mother shouted again. "Come downstairs quickly!"

"Coming!"

Ayanika took a deep breath and walked downstairs.

The drawing room was brightly lit.

Traditional Bengali decor, wooden furniture, brass lamps, fresh flowers and seated on the sofa were.

The Malhotras.

Ayanika's steps literally froze. This didn't feel like a normal arranged-marriage family. Their aura itself looked expensive, an elegant middle-aged woman sat gracefully in a silk saree, beside her was an elderly man whose face carried authority naturally.

And in front of them.

Sat Advayansh Malhotra, dressed in a black suit.

Ayanika looked at him for barely a second. And immediately looked away.

Dangerously handsome.

She had read that phrase in novels before. Today, she finally understood it.

Sharp features. Cold eyes. An expensive watch. Calm posture. He sat perfectly still as if even unnecessary movement annoyed him.

But his eyes.

There was a strange exhaustion in them.

As if he was physically present here, but mentally somewhere else.

"Ayanika beta, come here," her mother said with a smile.

Quietly, she walked over and sat down.

Formal conversations began filling the room. Parents talking. Business talking.

Family background talking. And amidst all of it, Ayanika secretly observed Advayansh. He looked completely uninterested, he barely spoke. Only occasional short replies.

"Yes."

"No."

"Hm."

A walking corporate email. Finally, Advayansh's mother smiled.

AYANIKA'S POV

"Maa, please behave normally," I whispered.

"You behave normally first."

Fair.

Very fair.

I was quietly observing the living room from the corner of the staircase.The Malhotra family had already entered.

Sophisticated.

Elegant.

Very rich-rich vibes.

And then, my eyes automatically stopped on him. Oh.

OH.

Black suit. Of course.

Mr. Refrigerator Personality himself.

Tall. Sharp features. Calm expression and annoyingly handsome. Very annoyingly handsome.

It was unfair.

Why are people who look like that usually emotionally unavailable too?

He looked composed. Controlled.

Like he had come for a board meeting.

Not a marriage alliance. Then suddenly...

His eyes lifted directly toward my direction. And for one tiny second...

We both froze.

Weird.

Very weird.

Because his eyes were far more intense than I expected. Not rude. Not arrogant.

Just deep. Like he quietly observed everything around him.

I immediately side-stepped and activated hiding mode. My heart was beating unnecessarily fast.

Traitor heart.

ADVAYANSH'S POV

I noticed her instantly, before introductions, before formalities. White kurti. Loose hair. Curious eyes.

And her expression?

Like she was already judging me.

Interesting. Very interesting. Then she disappeared behind the staircase corner.

A tiny smile almost appeared.

Almost.

If Dad had noticed, it would've become lifetime embarrassment material. The families were busy with formal conversation.

Business.

Culture.

Polite smiling.

Meanwhile, my attention kept drifting annoyingly toward the staircase.

Then finally...

She walked downstairs properly.

And the room strangely felt quieter for a second, not because of some dramatic movie effect, because she carried her presence differently.

Alive.

Expressive.

Completely opposite to my controlled world.

"This is my daughter, Ayanika" her mother said with a smile.

She politely greeted everyone with a namaste.

I gave a slight nod. Then finally, the first proper eye contact and honestly?

Unexpected.

Because instead of shy awkwardness. There was challenge in her eyes, like she was silently saying, 'I already know your type.'

Dangerous girl.

AUTHOR'S POV

Tea cups softly clinked against the table.

The parents continued their polite conversations, but both Advayansh and Ayanika were barely listening, because first impressions had already begun forming.

And unfortunately.

Both of them were curious now, even if neither wanted to admit it.

AYANIKA'S POV

Maa suddenly smiled and said,

"If you two want, you can go talk on the terrace."

There it was.

The classic line.

I internally screamed, calmly stood up.

Of course he did, professional meeting mode activated.

I followed him toward the terrace.

On the terrace, light rain drizzled softly.

Awkward silence.

Cool evening wind, distant traffic sounds and the two of us.

Strangers.

Potentially dangerous strangers.

Finally, I broke the silence. "So."

"So." He replied.

I blinked. "That's it? Just 'so'?"

Advayansh calmly stood near the railing. "You can start."

Excuse me?

"Did you come here to conduct an interview or something?" I asked.

Unexpectedly. A tiny smile, barely visible, but there.

"No." He replied.

"Umm hmm."

Silence again.

God, this man talks in downloadable content. I folded my arms. "Were you forced to come here?"

"Hm." He said.

"Same." I said.

For the first time properly. He looked at me and somehow the atmosphere became slightly lighter. Niceeeee.

"Good," he said quietly.

"Why?" I asked.

"I thought you were interested." He said.

What? Ami? Abar ei lomba lamp-post'er proti interest? Not my cup of tea.

"Absolutely not." I replied.

Tiny pause. Then I added honestly,

"Arranged marriage scares me."

Advayansh stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then he said softly, "Me too."

That answer was unexpected.

Because somehow, I thought he'd be the emotionally robotic type, but there was something tired in his voice.

Real.

Human.

And suddenly..

Mr. Refrigerator Personality seemed a little less refrigerator-like.

AUTHOR'S POV

From downstairs, the sound of wedding shehnais drifted in from a neighbor's house.

And here, amidst the soft rain, Ayanika and Advayansh were tangled in their own private storm of confusion.

Five minutes later, Ayanika and Advayansh came downstairs and sat with everyone else.

"Alright then, we should get going now," Advayansh's father said as he stood up.

"It felt really nice meeting you all after so many years," Ayanika's father said with a warm smile.

"She's such a sweet girl," Advayansh's mother said before pulling Ayanika into a hug.

Before leaving, everyone was busy talking to one another. Everyone except one person.

Advayansh.

His eyes kept drifting toward his watch again and again, something his father clearly did not appreciate. But what he failed to notice was that Advayansh's gaze kept wandering back to Ayanika too.

And just like that, the Malhotras had left.

The moment they were gone, Ayanika threw herself onto the sofa, stretching her legs dramatically.

"So? What did you think?" her mother asked, sitting beside her.

"Terrible. Absolutely terrible," Ayanika said with an exaggerated frown.

"Anu!"her mother scolded.

Ayanika sat up in frustration and said, "What? How can someone be that silent? He literally felt like a giant lamp post."

"You shouldn't speak like that, Anu," her mother replied.

"Didn't you see him? It felt like the download of his vocabulary got stuck at 3%, always 'yes' 'no' 'hmm' I mean, Dadu, aunty, uncle... they were all so sweet, and then there was him. One tall, black, arrogant lamppost." Ayanika said everything exactly as she felt it.

"For how long did you even talk to him? You only spoke for five minutes on the terrace," her mother said.

"Five minutes were more than enough to judge him," Ayanika replied.

"Enough, both of you. They just left, come on. Advayansh is a decent person. Quiet. Composed. Calm." Ayanika's father said calmly.

Without another word, Ayanika quietly walked to her room. Sitting beside the window, she stared outside.

Heavy rain poured endlessly, while thunder rumbled through the clouds above. But inside Ayanika, there was a strange kind of silence.