“Nope,” I interrupt instantly. “No arranged marriage talk today.” She is silent for a moment and I assume a network issue. But gosh, I am so wrong.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she scolds, forcing on each word as if this isn't just a scolding but a speech she has to deliver. “Avoiding the topic, dodging the proposals—Aryan, you are my son. I know every trick in your book.”
I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Ma…”
“One of these days I am going to find you a girl myself,” she continues, full dramatic mode activated. “And if you don’t marry, I will force you. You are thirty-two now, Aryan. It’s not funny anymore!”
I sigh, long and heavy. “Ma, I’m not ready for marriage.”
“Oh, you’re never ready for anything except work! Work, work, work—”
If only she knew I came out of the womb tired.
“Ma—”
The door opens.
Ajay, my assistant, steps inside holding a stack of files. “Sir, it’s—”
Bless this man.
“Ma, I have an urgent meeting,” I say quickly. “Gotta go.”
“Aryan,” she fusses “don’t you dare hang u—” I end the call.
I wince a little at the guilt but hey… she’ll survive. The lecture will come back like an angry boomerang anyway.
I exhale and look at Ajay. “Thank you. You saved me.”
He chuckles, pushing his glasses up. “She’s not wrong, sir.”
I glare. “Not you too.”
He just laughs, absolutely unbothered, and places the files on my desk. “Mr. Goyal’s file. You might want to take a look at the accounts.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off. “I will. Thanks.”
Ajay nods and leaves.
I pull the file toward me and flip it open, trying to focus, but my brain is still half stuck on my mother’s words, the pressure pressing behind my ribs.
Marriage.
It’s not like I’m against the idea. I’m not. I like the idea of coming home to someone. Sharing stupid little moments. Watching Christmas movies together—okay, I should not admit that out loud. That is information Rudraksh and Siddhant would use to emotionally destroy me.
But marriage itself? Arranged marriage?
No. I wouldn’t survive it. Putting myself in a relationship with a stranger and hoping for compatibility feels like being tossed into deep water and told to “just swim.”
And as for finding someone on my own…that feels impossible. People assume girls are falling over themselves to date me—and yeah, some absolutely do.
But they’re not interested in me. They’re interested in the idea of me. The CEO. The bank balance. Sometimes the face—fine, yes, I’m decent to look at, not going to lie. But none of that has anything to do with the person I actually am.
They see the polish, not the person.
Sometimes being admired feels…lonely.
I close the file, leaning back, letting the silence settle. My gaze lands at the new building. It looks like a cracked eggshell—beautiful structure, hollow insides waiting to be shaped. Jayesh leaving means everything gets delayed. And I don’t trust myself with colors, textures, layouts. I never learned to see beyond numbers and strategy.
