Chapter 2: Hotel Whispers and Cold Realisations

To save for our shaadi, I worked part-time as a wedding planner at my best friend’s company.

Every morning, I’d iron my kurta, tie my hair back neatly, and stuff my tiffin—aloo paratha, sometimes poha—into my bag. Helping others plan their perfect day made me both hopeful and, at times, quietly jealous. My fingers would ache at night from stringing marigold garlands, but I’d still dream of my own wedding, imagining Arjun beside me, all nervous and proud.

Today, I was at a posh South Delhi hotel to meet an important client.

The lobby café had that unmistakable five-star scent—a sharp mix of filter coffee, lilies, and someone’s expensive perfume. I perched on the edge of a plush sofa, sipping overbrewed chai, my hands twisting my dupatta’s edge as I mentally rehearsed my pitch. The soft hum of a WhatsApp notification pinged from a nearby table, blending with the clink of cups.

While I waited, I overheard a man’s teasing voice:

“Arrey, Arjun bhai, you still haven’t ended your ‘Cinderella Upliftment Project’?”

“Your engagement to the Sharma family is set, and the wedding date is almost here.”

My head turned just a bit, almost involuntarily.

The way he said Arjun—so familiar, so Delhi—sent a chill through me. Arjun. It couldn’t be, I thought. My Arjun was just a medical equipment salesman.

But then, his unmistakable voice cut through the lobby.

“What's the hurry? There’s still a month left.”

“I’m a bit reluctant to let go of Priya.”

It felt as if someone had poured a jug of cold nimbu paani over my head, drenching me in shock.

My eyes stung, but I forced myself to blink rapidly, not wanting to draw attention. My grip tightened so much around my phone, my knuckles turned white. The ceiling fans spun lazily above, indifferent to my world collapsing. Priya—that was me.

The other man laughed, mocking.

“Is this true love?”

I heard Arjun take a slow sip of coffee, the spoon clinking against his cup. That easy confidence made my insides twist. “Not really. We’re just physically compatible.”

“And…”

Arjun lowered his voice.

“She’s nearsighted, can’t see clearly… so when I pull my tricks, she can’t react in time. She just silently accepts it.”

“Tch, never a boring moment.”

Laughter exploded between them.

“That girl was once chased by the Kapoor family’s son—he showered her with Audis and Sabyasachi lehengas, but he couldn’t win her over.”

“I heard she’s really pure. How did you manage to play your trump card from the start?”

Arjun smiled with that same secretive air.

“Conservative girls only give themselves to the man who truly wants to marry them.”

“I bought an old, rundown flat outright, and put only Priya’s name on the deed.”

“She was so touched, thinking I’d bet everything I had on her. How could she refuse me?”

“It’s like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey—you have to show them something real.”

“A car or a bag can’t prove you want to marry her, but buying a house outright, that’s the carrot.”

Arjun sounded impatient, turning to the family driver: “Where’s Miss Sharma? Wasn’t she supposed to meet the wedding planner with me?”

That casual ‘family driver’ made my stomach knot. My client today had the surname Sharma.

In a blink, Arjun threw his blazer over his shoulder.

“I’m busy, I’m leaving. Tell Riya Sharma to handle it—just listen to her.”

He turned to his driver: “Let’s go to that famous cake shop in South Delhi.”

His friend teased, “No time to meet your fiancée for wedding planning, but you’ll make a detour for cheap pastries for Cinderella?”

Arjun nudged him. “Chal nikal.”

Then, softer, “Honestly, if she weren’t nearsighted, I wouldn’t mind my son inheriting her genes.”

“Even if my parents disagreed, I’d be willing to fight for her.”

“What a pity…”