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Aarav Singh Rajput's POV
After I married her in a sudden burst of anger, I told myself it was the right thing to do—to punish her if this whole story she was telling me was nothing but a well-constructed lie for money or fame. The idea that she could deceive me with such a tale about our "marriage" made my blood boil. Liars deserve no place in my life, and I was determined to teach her a lesson. But as we sat in the car, and I looked over at her, my resolve wavered. Her eyes, wide and filled with a mix of uncertainty and raw innocence, made me pause. Could someone that young and naive truly concoct such a scheme?
When I asked her age and she quietly told me she was only 18, I was shocked. She was practically still a kid, and guilt immediately clouded my anger. "Hamne ek bacchi se shaadi kar li," I thought to myself, disbelieving. Marrying her had been rash, and now that it was done, the weight of it settled heavily. I realized that telling my family about this spontaneous marriage was out of the question, at least for now. My family held tightly to their traditions and values, and they’d always hoped for an arranged marriage. I could already imagine the reactions—the shock, the judgment—and knew this news would be a blow. So I decided then and there: this marriage would remain a secret, at least until I figured out what to do next.
Wanting to know more about her, I asked her for her address so I could take her home. It was the least I could do after dragging her into this whole mess. The silence in the car was thick as I thought over what had just happened, but when she finally spoke, it was to ask—almost pleadingly—if I would leave her. That word—“leave”—lit up something sharp inside me. I may have been conflicted about how this marriage began, but she was my wife now, and I would not let her go so easily. I told her firmly that I had accepted this marriage. Though I asked her to keep it a secret, I made it clear that it was not a decision I took lightly. To my relief, she simply nodded, and I could tell she was just as unsure about what to do as I was.
During the drive, I tried to get a sense of her background. She answered my questions hesitantly, but when she asked about my profession, I could see her eyes dart toward the gun I carried. It made me chuckle inwardly—she probably thought I was some kind of dangerous man just because of it. I assured her that I was a businessman, albeit one with certain responsibilities that required protection. She seemed slightly relieved, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t disappear completely.
The rest of the drive passed in silence until we finally reached her neighborhood. She pointed toward her house shyly, and the way she did it reminded me of a five-year-old pointing out her favorite candy store. Her nervous energy was both amusing and strangely endearing, and it only confirmed what I had started to believe: this was not some elaborate plot. She was simply an innocent girl caught in a whirlwind.
As she opened the car door to step out, I noticed her sindoor and mangalsutra—the unmistakable symbols of a married woman—were clearly visible. If anyone saw her now, it wouldn’t take long for them to understand what had happened. It would be an unnecessary complication, so I reached out and gently held her wrist, stopping her before she could get out. She looked at me, surprised, as I handed her one of my business cards.
“Keep this,” I said, watching as she took it cautiously. “And take a look at yourself in the mirror before going in.” She seemed momentarily confused but then glanced in the mirror and realized what I meant. She quickly began adjusting her hair and clothing, trying to hide the sindoor and mangalsutra, carefully covering up the fact that she was now Mrs. Aarav Singh Rajput. I couldn’t help the pang of possessiveness I felt at watching her hide her connection to me, even though it was necessary for both of us right now.
Once she’d adjusted everything, I asked for her phone number, expecting her to hand it over easily. But, to my surprise, she refused, saying, “I don’t give my number to strangers.” I raised an eyebrow, amused by her stubbornness, because she seemed to have already forgotten that I was her husband. “Are you serious?” I thought to myself. But she eventually relented and gave it to me, though she warned me not to call without texting first. She also explained that this wasn’t her regular number, as her actual phone had been snatched recently. I just nodded, amused by her precautions.
Finally, she stepped out of the car. Just before closing the door, she looked at me and hesitated, as if she had more to say. “Take care of yourself,” she said softly, her eyes warm with genuine concern. I nodded, feeling a strange sense of calm at her words, and then I gestured toward her house. “Go on,” I told her. She gave me one last look, then turned and walked toward her home, disappearing behind the door.
As I drove away, my mind was still spinning. This innocent girl, now my wife, was tied to me in ways neither of us could have imagined. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this marriage, though unplanned, was just the beginning of something much bigger.
.
.
Flashback
I came to Delhi for some business meeting and after finishing my work I was going back to hotel. I got call from Abhi Bhai (elder brother).
He told me that mom is very angry with me.(as Abhi bhai's wedding was next week and from past 2-3 weeks I was busy in some meetings and had to travel a lot because of which I was not in Lucknow.)
We talked for some time and when I ended the call I saw that a girl was standing on middle of the road and my car was about to hit her .
I quickly changed direction and my car collided with a tree and I felt sudden pain.
I was not able to open up my eyes as my head was paining badly.
Then I heard some sound and came to know that a girl was trying to open my car door.
.
.
Flashback ends
I returned to the hotel and changed into fresh clothes, though my head was throbbing from the injury, the pain sharp and unrelenting. I sank onto the bed, calling my assistant to send some painkillers up to my room. I tried to relax, but it was impossible; the day’s events kept spinning through my mind, filling me with a mix of regret, confusion, and frustration. Marrying her out of anger, not understanding the truth… it all weighed heavily on me. I thought about telling my parents, but only after Abhi bhai's wedding—I couldn’t add to their worries right now.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I assumed the medicine had arrived and got up to open the door. But there stood Avyaan, looking half-exasperated as he rushed past me into the room.
“Close the door, man!” he whispered sharply, as if we were hiding something.
“What the hell, Avyaan? This is my room!” I snapped, confused by his urgency.
Unfazed, he tossed a packet of painkillers onto the bed. “Here, thought you’d need these,” he muttered, a hint of softness in his tone.
I picked up the packet, feeling a twinge of relief as I swallowed one. “Thanks,” I said, though my voice came out softer than I intended.
Avyaan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “So… want to tell me what’s going on with her?” he asked, his gaze piercing.
I hesitated, searching for the right words. “I… I married her,” I finally admitted, unable to meet his eyes.
His eyes widened in shock, a look of disbelief crossing his face. “What?! You married her? Just like that?”
I shrugged, trying to keep my tone steady despite the chaos in my mind. “Yeah, I married her.”
“Please tell me this isn’t because you wanted revenge,” he said, his voice tense. “Because if it is—”
“That was the plan, alright?!” I snapped, feeling a surge of frustration. “But then… I realized she wasn’t lying. There was something different about her, something honest.”
A sly smile crept onto his face, breaking the tension. “Well, well, Hridya parivartan, huh? What’s this, love at first sight?......Not bad Mr Rajput” he teased, nudging me playfully.
I scoffed, though my defenses felt thin. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… she’s not like the others. She wasn’t interested in money or fame. She looked at me like…” I trailed off, unable to finish, lost in the memory of her eyes, her honesty.
Avyaan raised his eyebrows, a glint of understanding in his gaze. “Alright, so what’s the plan now? Are you going to tell your family?”
“Not yet,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’ll wait until after Abhi bhai’s wedding.”
He grew serious, his tone firm. “Just remember, she’s your wife now. She’s your responsibility. You can’t treat this like a game.”
I nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over me, realizing that this impulsive decision carried a gravity I hadn’t fully accepted until now.
After a moment, Avyaan’s gaze softened. “By the way, how’s your head?” he asked, his voice almost brotherly.
“It’s killing me, to be honest,” I admitted, feeling a bit of the tension slip away.
He shook his head, smirking. “Good, then I’ll stay here tonight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why? Don’t you have your own place?”
“Nope, I’m staying right here,” he replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. It was clear he wasn’t going anywhere, and though I sighed in mock frustration, deep down, I was grateful.
I took the medicine and lay down, closing my eyes, hoping sleep would come. But her face, her voice—they wouldn’t leave my mind. Despite my best efforts to push the thoughts away, she lingered, filling my heart with an ache I hadn’t felt before.
Hours passed, and finally, around 4 a.m., I surrendered to exhaustion, a strange mix of regret and hope following me into my dreams.
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WORD COUNT:- 1800+
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