Chapter 6:

2 June, Sunday, 2024

7:30 a.m.

Anika's POV

No one knew when the stone you hurled toward the sky would return, striking you harder than before. Nature’s own boomerang.

But my situation wasn’t simply about karma finding its way back. No — this was a past I thought I’d buried, clawing its way up to swallow me again. Those years of peace were nothing more than a cruel intermission — a pause before the next disaster.

How had I never known he was his brother?

In hindsight, it wasn’t that strange. The eldest son of the Rai Mehrotra family had gone to great lengths to avoid the media, and I’d spent most of my life outside India. Still, it didn’t make the revelation any less shocking.

Especially after the words he said that evening.

30 May

"Sign a contract with me for this baseless marriage."

His calm tone sent a ripple of unease down my spine.

For a moment, I didn’t even process the meaning.

"What do you mean, Mr. Rai Mehrotra?" My brows furrowed in disbelief.

He sighed, glancing at the table before lifting his head again.

The grey in his eyes had vanished, replaced by an abyssal black — the kind of moonless night where tears tasted like salt and the dark swallowed you whole. They were beautiful, yes… but fearsome. The kind of eyes that could erase your existence without lifting a finger. He hid far too much behind those shadows.

"I mean," he said, voice deep and steady, "A contractual marriage."

The words floored me.

This wasn’t some childhood game we’d once played. This was a vow meant to last a lifetime. To me, marriage wasn’t a piece of paper — it was sacred. Holy. Untouchable. And here he was, dragging it into the dirt with legal jargon.

His expression didn’t even flicker, but my shock must have been obvious. I was not the kind of person to wear my heart on my sleeve, yet even I couldn’t mask this.

"What the hell do you mean by contractual marriage? This isn’t a business deal, it’s a sacred thing," I bit out, my fists clenching under the table.

He chuckled lowly. "Do you think I’m desperate to marry you?"

"Then what makes you think I’m desperate to marry you?" I shot back instantly.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His silence said more than his words.

"I don’t like wasting time," he said at last. "So I’ll be direct — this marriage will end after one year. On our first anniversary, we divorce."

My lips curled into a bitter smile. How poetic — setting an expiry date before the union even began.

So lovely.

"How romantic," I scoffed. "So you want to fool your mother? I don't know about your other family members but as much as I know her, she believes she has raised a gentleman. That kind woman who wants nothing but your happiness?"

How could he stoop so low?

His silence stretched.

"Do you really think you’re a man of morals?" I pressed, knowing the jab would land. The flicker in his jaw confirmed it — but then came a smirk that unsettled me.

"Watch your mouth, sweetheart. You don’t know when you’ll invite trouble."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"It doesn’t matter. Come to my office right now and sign. It’ll be submitted to the High Court tomorrow morning."

He rose, fixing his coat before extending a hand. "Let’s leave."

I glared at it.

"Aakhon se marne ka irada hai kya?" he asked lightly, the Hindi slipping in, casual and infuriating.

(Do you have intentions to kill me with your eyes)

"Fuck off. I’m calling this marriage off. I’ll find someone better," I spat, pushing back from the table.

But before I could take two steps, a sharp tug on my wrist spun me around — straight into his chest. A low hiss vibrated on my tongue, impacted by the force on my forehead.

My palms pressed against the solid plane of his torso; his arms locked around my waist. Even at 5’8", I felt small against his 6’2" frame. His breath brushed my lips, warm and steady, but the fire in my chest didn’t let the moment linger.

I pushed him away and slapped him. Hard.

The sound cracked through the air. The room previously drones in our silent war of hatred, now remembered the sound of my slap on his skin. I felt the gut feeling that I didn't do right but he needed to be in his limits.

Served right. Regardless of the repercussions.

His head turned with the blow. When he looked back, tongue pressing against his cheek, his eyes burned. "Aren’t you too daring, sweetheart?"

"Aren't you a liar?"

"Don't question back when I ask." He pressed.

"Yes I'm daring. Daring enough to kick you between the legs if you touch me again," I said coldly.

He didn’t answer — just caught my wrist again as he strode past, dragging me with him.

I struggled, but his grip was unyielding. No one intervened. The elevator was open on the tenth floor; he shoved us inside, hitting the button for the ground floor.

The moment the doors closed, my back slammed against the wall. His hands pinned mine beside my head.

"Not. A. Word. Anika. Understood?"

His fury was palpable in he air around us. The heat between us from the previous clash was there too, but the sudden decrease in the space around me blurred his fury, my hatred and everything.

Something else took the upper hand.

Fear prickled along my skin, sharp and unwelcome. I nodded at his words, but my focus remained somewhere else.

I didn't avoid compact spaces when in fury for no reason.

When he stepped back, I stayed still, lungs tightening. Claustrophobia clawed up my throat, stealing my breath. I’d missed my medication, and the tension only worsened it.

Rubbing my chest, I took deep breaths and fortunately, soon the doors opened.

He was back facing me, thankfully. Keeping my ragged breaths low, o stood with my wobbly legs. He was going for hook and crook to get my weakness and if he saw me like this, he might not mercy me.

When the doors finally opened, I bolted out, barely noticing him at my side — until his arm snaked around my waist again.

"Smile," he murmured. "Unless you want tomorrow’s headlines to ruin you."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I complied. I wasn't a fool to splash mud on my hard-earned reputation and fame. I wasn't weak, but I wasn't in my strongest form either, at the moment.

My cold gaze looked at him as a response.

The media swarmed outside, cameras flashing. And in the chaos, he shielded my eyes from the glare.

I hated myself for noticing — but the side profile that met my gaze was unfairly beautiful.

Slipping away from the white flashes, we made our way into his car and wheeled away.

My body wasn't at all supporting me. My cold fingers fiddled with each other on my lap, while I gazed out silently. This evening was anything but expected. He was drowning me in his hatred, where I was already drowned in many things long named.

•

In his office, the air smelled faintly of smoke. He stood by the tinted glass wall, cigarette between his fingers.

When he finally sat beside me on the black leather sectional, his coat was gone.

"What do you want?" I questioned straight, unable to bear his presence when my nerves were burning under my skin. I wished to run away somewhere, for peace I'd borrow as temporary.

I had luxury in material — not in emotions.

Sitting beside me, he crushed the cigarette's butt on the ash plate on the glass coffee table in front of us.

"I don’t like beating around the bush," he said.

"And?", I further inquired. My hands were clasped on my lap.

Picking up a black file from the sofa, he kept it in my hands. "Read. Carefully."

Leaning back, he rested his back against the backrest landing his hands on his thighs.

I stared blankly at the black file.

Turning over the front cover, I read the first two words written in bold black letters.

A cold weight settled in my chest when I opened it.

Two words in bold stared back at me:

Marriage Contract.

The rest was a blur of legal lines and clauses — until the terms came into focus. And my blood boiled all over again.