Chapter 1: The Matchmaker’s Game

Kabir and I—brought together by Ananya’s matchmaking!

She had secured her own perfect husband and couldn’t bear to see me left behind. All this fuss, she claimed, was to repay me for feeding her a single meal back in the day.

Ananya declared with that trademark confidence, "Kabir is really a good man! Don’t let his thanda attitude fool you—he treats me like royalty, and he’ll treat you just as well, you’ll see!"

I simply smiled, letting her words pass by like the breeze. After all, why would Kabir ever want to marry me?

But love does strange things to people—so strange that Kabir would do anything Ananya wished, no matter the cost.

Ananya had us meet alone, just once. Gulmohar trees arched over us, the air heavy with mist, moonlight dancing through the branches, and secluded paths winding away into the night—

A more filmi spot for a secret rendezvous, I couldn’t imagine. If anyone caught us, my name would be mud!

I could already picture the aunties peering over their balconies, WhatsApping the news before I even reached home: Meera Sharma, caught alone with a boy at night—haye Ram!

Ananya gave Kabir a little nudge toward me, then covered her mouth, giggling, and disappeared into the shadows.

As soon as Ananya was gone, the soft, caring look vanished from Kabir’s face. In its place was a stern, unreadable mask. He stood tall—broad-shouldered, slim-waisted—

Bathed in moonlight, he looked like a hero straight out of a Doordarshan serial—impossibly distant, all sharp lines and shadows.

He was, I had to admit, the most handsome man I’d ever seen—except, perhaps, for Prince Yashvardhan of Lucknow.

Even then, in the dim light, I couldn’t help but compare Kabir’s stubborn, chiseled profile to Yashvardhan’s regal, easy charm. Like the difference between a rocky mountain and a flowing river—total filmi drama!

Kabir kept his distance, as if I carried some contagious disease.

I didn’t bother with conversation either.

We stood there, silent, while somewhere a distant chaiwala’s call floated through the night. The whir of the ceiling fan from a nearby house and the soft metallic clink of my own bangles as I fidgeted made the silence even heavier.

Finally, without a word, we walked out of the gulmohar grove together.

A gust of wind sent red petals swirling around our feet, sticking to the hem of my dupatta. The dry leaves crackled under my new juttis—now definitely ruined by this tamasha.

Kabir strode ahead, his steps long and purposeful. I followed half a pace behind, my heart thudding with every step.

He stopped suddenly and I almost crashed into him. I looked up and saw what had caught his attention—

Ananya stood waiting, her head bowed, idly kicking at a stone. Her eyes flashed with surprise when she saw us emerge so soon.

Her gaze darted between Kabir and me, eyebrows raised. She pouted, "Kabir, didn’t you get along with Meera? She’s my best friend, haan! If you ever hurt her, I’ll come after you myself."

A flicker of something crossed Kabir’s eyes—a flash of longing, quickly smothered under a bitter, disappointed smile.

And just like that—

The next day, Kabir arrived at the Sharma household with a marriage proposal.

A commoner princess is still a princess, after all.

Ananya did a quick round of the city, and my marriage was fixed before I could blink.

When the official match was announced, my father was bursting with pride. I stood there, dazed, the world spinning.

Somewhere in my mind, I muttered, "I am unwilling," but my words were lost in the noise.

Even on the wedding night, everything felt like a fever dream.

Until Kabir’s voice, cold as the Himalayan wind, snapped me awake: "I won’t touch you."

Only then did I realize this was no wild fantasy. This was my real life now.

That night, Kabir drank glass after glass, his eyes fixed on Ananya. He stared so intently, Yashvardhan’s jaw tightened with jealousy.

The candlelight flickered; Kabir’s cheeks flushed for once, a rare, striking shade on his normally pale face.

Somewhere, a relative tittered, mistaking his embarrassment for newlywed shyness. I wanted to laugh at their naivete.

Suddenly, I understood why Ananya had been so insistent I marry Kabir—

As long as I was Kabir’s wife, he could never marry anyone else.

I was even a little curious—

If I took advantage of his drunkenness and seduced him, what would Ananya’s expression be when she found out?

The idea was so outrageous, I nearly slapped myself for thinking like a character from a late-night serial. Real life, Meera, real life!