Chapter 7: Transactional Love

Rohan and I are indeed in a "business marriage."

Six years ago, when my mom remarried that builder from Lucknow named Mr. Singh, his project’s funding ran into trouble and everything stalled.

My mom didn’t understand business.

Neither did I.

But for love, she was willing to let me try and make mistakes.

"Meera beta, your Uncle Singh has no children. He treats you as his own. Can you help him?"

"Mom checked—young President Rohan on the client side likes bright, lively girls like you."

"I heard he’s invited a bunch of people on a yacht tomorrow. Can you go too? Beg him to give Uncle Singh a little more time..."

She cried and begged me over and over.

That year, I was a senior in college, six months from graduation.

I wanted to refuse, but I didn’t.

Because I saw a photo of Rohan.

Saw that face—three or four tenths like Arjun.

And from then on, I couldn’t stop.

The Rohan family was rich and powerful.

As the only son, Rohan never lacked women.

But none of them were as persistent, as hard to get rid of, or as shameless as me.

In the world of deals, everyone wanted something—money, status, security. I just wanted a face that made my heart ache with old longing, and maybe, the quiet promise of a home I’d never had.

"Bootlicker."

He let his friends call me that.

Because if he asked me to block drinks, I’d obediently drink until I got a stomach ulcer.

If he called for supplies at midnight in a hotel, I’d bring them in the rain.

Even when his first, second, third, and fourth "female secretaries" mocked, splashed wine, and humiliated me, I didn’t care. For six years, I was always there at his beck and call.

So, when Uncle Singh’s business finally improved and his net worth soared this year—

Rohan condescended to agree to the "marriage."

Whether he was happy or not, I didn’t know.

My mom was very happy.

Yesterday, she threw a big engagement party.

She even told Rohan the password to my flat.

Even though he didn’t show up at the engagement party, she was still overjoyed.

She persuaded me, "Meera beta, we’ll have to rely on the Rohan family a lot in the future."

"Men have their tempers. You have to pacify him more..."

Before today, I was willing to pacify him.

But looking at the angry Arjun now, who wanted to twist his head off—

And then at Rohan, who was finally left speechless by me—

I realized, they weren’t alike at all.

As expected…

There’s only one Arjun in this world.

With a soft sigh, I lowered my eyes and stubbed out the cigarette.

Then I walked up to Rohan and pulled the photo from his hand.

"Wipe the lipstick off your neck. It’s dirty."

"You know, I never used you."

I said it softly, but the words felt heavy, as if I was finally letting go of something that had haunted me for years.

The words were final, the last coin tossed into a wishing well already dry.