Author’s POV, 

"Hey, Prachi," Sarthak greeted warmly. "Shall we go?"

Prachi nodded, her expression neutral. Her scooty was still in the shop, so she had taken a rickshaw to work that morning. Now, she found herself climbing into Sarthak’s car once again, the quiet tension between them palpable.

They drove to one of the hotels Sarthak managed. It was an elegant place, with lush greenery and a serene atmosphere. The restaurant inside was equally refined, with soft lighting and modern decor. Sarthak led Prachi to a table in a private corner, away from the crowd.

After placing their orders, Prachi couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to know why they were here.

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Sarthak?" Prachi asked, her tone direct.

Sarthak leaned back in his chair, giving Prachi a reassuring smile, though there was an intensity behind his eyes. The dim lighting of the restaurant cast soft shadows over his face, making his expression harder to read. Prachi watched him closely, waiting for his answer. Her nerves were on edge, and she needed to know what he was thinking—what he wanted from her.

Sarthak took a deep breath before speaking. “Prachi, I wanted to talk to you about the marriage proposal.”

Prachi stiffened. Her fingers clenched around her water glass. Of course, it was about that. She had hoped he might be different, that he wouldn’t push her the way her mother had, but maybe that was too much to hope for. 

Sarthak noticed her reaction and raised a hand, signaling her to wait. “Please, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not ready for marriage either.” 

Prachi blinked, startled by his confession. “You’re not?” 

“No,” Sarthak said with a sigh, his voice dropping to a more genuine tone. “In fact, I completely understand how you feel. I know you’re not ready. And to be honest, neither am I.” 

Prachi’s eyes widened. “Then... why are we even talking about this?” 

Sarthak leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked onto hers. “Because if we don’t do something about it, our mothers won’t stop. You know how persistent they are, Prachi. They’ll keep bringing it up, pushing us to do something we’re not ready for.” 

Prachi bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong. Her mother, especially, wouldn’t let this go. Even if she stopped for a while, she’d bring it up again in a few months, maybe less. The pressure would be constant, a never-ending burden on her already overwhelmed mind. 

“And that’s why I’ve been thinking,” Sarthak continued, his voice growing softer, more persuasive. “What if we just... agree to the marriage? Not for real, of course. Just on paper. That way, they’ll stop pushing us, and we’ll have some peace.” 

Prachi’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Sarthak held up a hand. 

“Just hear me out,” he said gently. “I’m not talking about a real marriage. I know this sounds crazy, but it’s a solution. We get married—on paper. That way, our mothers will stop pushing us. We can keep things simple, no obligations, no real expectations to each other. In two years, when things have settled down and our parents have accepted the situation, we can decide on the next steps when we’re ready. There’s no pressure.” 

Prachi’s breath caught in her throat. A fake marriage? She stared at him, trying to process the idea. “So, you’re suggesting that we... pretend to be married? Just to get our mothers off our backs?” 

Sarthak nodded. “Exactly. This way, we can control the situation. By then, our mothers would have accepted the reality, and we can move on with our lives, free from their constant interference.” 

Prachi sat back in her chair, stunned. Her thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of what he was saying. On the one hand, it was absurd—marrying just to avoid marrying? But on the other hand… it made sense. Both of their mothers were relentless, and she could already see her mother starting the same cycle again in a few months. She had been dreading this ongoing battle, knowing it would never really end unless she made some kind of move. 

She looked down at her hands, her thoughts swirling. Could I really do this? 

Sarthak, sensing her hesitation, leaned forward, his voice gentle but insistent. “Prachi, I know this sounds crazy. But think about it. This way, we can both have some peace, some time to focus on ourselves without being constantly nagged by our families. You won’t have to keep fighting with your mother. Isn’t that worth considering?” 

Prachi bit her lip, doubt gnawing at her. He was right about one thing—she couldn’t handle another argument with her mother. But what if this fake marriage turned into something more complicated? What if it made things worse? 

Prachi frowned, still unsure. “And you think this will work? They won’t ask questions about why we’re getting married all of a sudden?” 

Sarthak’s lips curled into a small smile, though his eyes remained calculating. “I’ve thought of that. We’ll tell them I proposed to you, and after talking, I made you see reason. We’ll say you’ve agreed to give it a chance. Simple.” 

Prachi’s heart pounded in her chest, her intuition screaming at her that this was a huge decision. Her mind replayed her mother’s persistent words, the guilt-trips, the pressure, the endless expectations. A part of her longed for a break from it all, for some control over her life. And maybe, just maybe, Sarthak’s proposal was a way out. 

But deep down, something didn’t feel right. 

“Okay,” Prachi whispered, almost to herself, still unsure but unable to see any other way out of this mess. “I agree.” 

Sarthak’s expression didn’t change much, but Prachi noticed a flicker of something behind his eyes—relief, maybe, or something darker. His smile remained small and controlled, but inside, he was dancing. This was it—the first step in his plan. She had agreed. 

“Great,” Sarthak said, keeping his voice calm. “Now, we just need to tell our parents. Don’t worry, I’ll handle most of it. We’ll say that I convinced you, and that you’re open to giving this a chance. They’ll accept it. Trust me.” 

Prachi nodded, though her heart raced with anxiety. “But what if they start asking more questions? What if they want to know why I agreed so quickly?” 

Sarthak leaned back in his chair, his voice soothing. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. You just have to say you thought about it, and that I made sense. They’ll be so happy that you agreed, they won’t dig too deep. I promise.” 

Prachi tried to swallow the growing doubt in her chest. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that this could be the solution to her problems, that she could get through this without more pressure. But a voice in the back of her mind warned her that this decision was about to change everything. 

Sarthak, meanwhile, was thrilled. He had crossed the first hurdle—getting her to agree. And now, he was that much closer to making her his. He held himself back from showing too much emotion, but inside, he wanted nothing more than to hug her, to kiss her, to finally tell her how deeply he loved her. But he knew he had to wait. He had to play this smart. 

“I’ll tell my mother tonight,” Sarthak said, breaking the silence. “We can tell your mother tomorrow, and then start planning the wedding. It doesn’t have to be big, just something small, to keep things simple.” 

Prachi nodded, her mind still spinning. “Okay.” 

Then, they eat there lunch in silence with their own racing thoughts.  Prachi stood up, ready to leave, feeling drained and unsure about everything. Sarthak stood too, walking her to the exit of the restaurant. “Don’t worry, Prachi. Everything will be fine. We’re just helping each other out. That’s all.” 

“Right,” Prachi whispered, her heart heavy. 

As she walked away, Sarthak watched her go, his mind already calculating the next step. She might think this was just a practical arrangement, but for him, it was far more. Prachi was his, and soon, she would be his in every sense of the word. 

For now, he just had to wait. He had time. And patience was one of his strongest qualities. 

As Prachi walked towards the street, her mind was in turmoil. Her intuition nagged at her, warning her that something about this decision was going to change her life in ways she couldn’t foresee. She just hoped she hadn’t made a mistake. 

But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning. 

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As Prachi walked away, her form disappearing into the distance, Sarthak’s gaze lingered, his mind already spinning with thoughts of the future. He had been patient—he had always been patient. But now, with Prachi agreeing to the fake marriage, he was one step closer to what he had wanted for so long. She might think this was just a temporary solution, but to him, it was something far more permanent. 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he turned and walked to his car, memories swirling in his mind, pulling him back to when it all began. The memory was vivid, as if it had happened yesterday. 

Flashback  

Sarthak was only nine years old when his life had turned upside down. His mother, Srestha, had packed up their lives and moved them away from his father, Vikram. The reasons were too complex for his young mind to fully understand at the time, but he knew enough—his father had been cruel, distant, and had caused him and his mother endless pain.  

The shift to their new house had felt strange. There was a void in his heart, one that Srestha couldn’t fill because she was overwhelmed herself. His grandfather’s health was deteriorating rapidly, and Srestha was left managing the remains of her father almost bankrupt hotel business while also caring for her father. That meant little time for Sarthak, and though she tried her best and he understood her mother, however, he felt more alone every day. 

As the days passed, Sarthak grew cold, distant. He didn't talk much, didn't smile. He missed having a family—one that felt whole, even if his father’s presence had never truly felt like love. But in his young heart, he still craved that sense of normalcy and wish that he have normal family like other childrens. 

One evening, while Sarthak sat in the living room, struggling with homework he couldn’t concentrate on, the doorbell rang. It was a quiet evening. Sarthak barely looked up as his mother went to answer the door. 

"Srestha, hello!" came a cheerful voice. It was Preeti, their neighbor, who had moved into the colony a few years ago. She was holding the hand of a tiny girl wearing a white frock. Her face was round, her cheeks rosy, and her eyes wide with innocence. Sarthak glanced up, barely interested, as Preeti and his mother began talking. 

“Srestha, I’ve brought Prachi over to invite you both to her fifth birthday party today’s evening. It’s nothing big, just a small gathering at our house, but we’d love to have you and Sarthak come,” Preeti said warmly. 

Srestha smiled, nodding gratefully. “That’s so kind of you, Preeti. We’ll definitely try to make it. Sarthak could also enjoy there.” 

Prachi, who had been holding onto her mother’s hand quietly, suddenly let go and began walking toward Sarthak with her tiny, determined steps. Sarthak looked up, mildly surprised at the little girl’s approach. She stopped in front of him, her big brown eyes staring at him with a mix of curiosity and shyness. 

“Hello,” she said softly, her voice like a tiny bell. 

Sarthak, who hadn’t been in the mood for conversation, barely glanced up. “Hello,” he muttered back before returning his attention to his homework. 

Prachi’s face fell, her tiny hands wringing together as she stood there, unsure of what to do. Her lip quivered slightly, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She had hoped to make a new friend, and Sarthak’s indifferent response had disappointed her deeply. As she thought he also didn't like her and not want to befriend her like her classmates in her school. 

Srestha noticed the exchange from the corner of her eye and stepped in, gently nudging her son. “Sarthak, this is Prachi. It’s her birthday today. Why don’t you talk to her? Maybe even play for a bit.” 

Sarthak looked up at his mother, then back at the tiny girl whose face had fallen. He noticed the tears brimming in her eyes, and something in his heart shifted. He doesn’t like seeing this cute little girl sad. She seemed so young, so innocent—like an angel who had no place in the cold world he had become accustomed to. 

Sighing, he set down his pencil and looked at Prachi. “Happy birthday, Angel.” 

Prachi blinked, confusion crossing her face. “But my name is Prachi, not Angel.” 

Sarthak chuckled, the sound surprising even him. It had been so long since he’d laughed. “I know,” he said, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. “You just look like an angel.” 

Prachi pouted, her brows knitting together as she crossed her arms. “Why are you laughing?” 

Sarthak couldn’t help but grin at her adorable, indignant expression. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached down, scooping her up and placing her on the sofa beside him. “I’m not laughing at you,” he said, squeezing her cheek gently. “You’re just so cute. You make me happy.” 

Prachi’s face brightened at his words, her previous disappointment forgotten in an instant. “So, you like me?” she asked excitedly. “You’ll be my friend?” 

Sarthak felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time spread through him. “I will.” 

With that, Prachi’s joy bubbled over. She started bouncing on the sofa, standing up on the cushion as she shouted over to her mother. “Mama! Bhaiya is my friend now! He likes me!” 

Preeti smiled warmly at the sight of her daughter’s excitement, but Sarthak’s expression shifted slightly at the word bhaiya. For some reason, it didn’t sit right with him, though he couldn’t quite explain why. 

He turned to his mother, and told, “Mom, I’m taking Prachi to my room to show her my toys and play with her.” 

Srestha nodded with a smile, watching as her son took Prachi’s tiny hand and led her to his room. The weight that had been pressing on Sarthak’s young heart for so long seemed to lift, if only just a little. 

In his room, Sarthak opened his toy box and pulled out his prized possession—a remote-control car. He set it on the floor, watching as Prachi’s eyes lit up with awe. 

“Wow, Bhaiya!” Prachi exclaimed. “Can I use it too?” 

Sarthak nodded, but her again calling him bhaiya doesn’t set right with him. “But don’t call me bhaiya,” he said softly. “Call me Sarthak. I don’t like being called bhaiya.” 

Prachi blinked up at him, confused. “But you’re older than me. Mama will scold me if I don’t call you bhaiya.” 

Sarthak knelt beside her, his eyes soft. “You’re my friend, right?” 

Prachi nodded, her eyes wide with understanding. 

“Friends call each other by their names,” Sarthak said with a smile. “So call me Sarthak. And don’t worry, I’ll tell your mama not to scold you.” 

Prachi tried her best to say his name, her little tongue twisting as she struggled to pronounce the syllables. “Sar... Sar-thak? SS..AR.T...AK..ARTH.AK?” 

Sarthak laughed, shaking his head. “Close enough. But if that’s too hard, you can call me... Arth.” 

Prachi’s face lit up at the suggestion. “Arth!” she exclaimed, her small voice filled with triumph. “Okay, Arth! We’re friends!” 

And from that moment on, the two became inseparable. Prachi’s laughter filled the once-empty halls of Sarthak’s home, and her innocent joy brought light back into his life. She had unknowingly become the glue that held him together when everything else felt like it was falling apart. 

End of Flashback 

Sarthak sat in his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel as the memories faded. He could still see the little girl with the round cheeks, the one who had brought him back to life all those years ago. And now, she was his—his angel, his Prachi. 

A slow, calculated smile spread across his face. He had waited so long for this moment, and now it was finally within his grasp. Prachi might think this marriage was temporary, but Sarthak knew differently. He had no intention of letting her go. 

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TBC......