Page 15 of Entangled Vows
“Mohit, please.” She rubbed her temples with a sigh. “This,” she gestured between herself and Vikram, “isn’t something you, or even God, can fix. Dad put us in this mess…”
“What the hell was he even thinking?” Mohit muttered, rubbing his hand down his face.
“Clearly, he wasn’t.”
Vikram’s gaze dropped to Mohit’s bloodied knuckles. If Mohit’s hands looked like that, then his own face must bea disaster. Mohit caught him staring and smirked with smug satisfaction.
Vikram didn’t blink. He held Mohit’s gaze, bloodied but steady.
“Listen to your sister,” he said. His voice was low and sharp. “This is private. Things between a husband and wife, you know?”
Mahika froze. “I’mnotyour wife.”
“Not yet.” His voice was like velvet, but with an edge. “But you’re going to be. Our fathers made sure of that.”
“Shut up, Grizzly,” she snapped.
Vikram almost laughed. Fuck, she was a firecracker. Every flicker of emotion on her face, the fire in her eyes, every inch of her was brimming with rage, and still, she was so damn beautiful. Breathtaking in a way that punched the air right out of his lungs.
He watched her take a steady breath before turning to Mohit.
“Mohit, please. Give me a few minutes. You check on Mom. Make sure she eats something before her nap. I’ll be out soon.”
Mohit exhaled sharply. “You worry too much about everyone, Mahi.” His voice softened. “Our parents never deserved a daughter like you.” At the door, he paused and gave one last murderous glare at Vikram. “I’m watching you, Vicky. If you’re both doing this, don’t screw it up.”
“Mohit!” Mahika’s voice rang out, final this time.
Mohit stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and a heavy silence settled between them. Mahika stared at the closed door, wishing it could somehow magically extract her from this mess.
But that miracle wasn’t going to happen. Her future was already signed, sealed, and delivered, and there was no way she could change it.
6
“Take a seat,” Mr. Rao’s calm voice cut through the silence. Vikram and Mahika both moved stiffly to the chairs by the table and took their seat.
Vikram leaned back, his fingers laced together, his eyes unreadable. “So, Mr. Rao. That’s it? We get married, play nice for a year, and then walk away? Clean exit?”
“Yes... and no.” Mr. Rao’s tone was measured. “It’s everything I told you. But your fathers wanted more than just a contractual alliance. They envisioned something real.”
Vikram’s brow lifted sceptically. “Real, how?”
“They wanted you to try. To be seen together. To present a marriage that looks and feels genuine. This mattered to both of them.”
Mahika spun in her chair, fury radiating off her like heat from a flame. “You’re joking. In addition to playing house-house, they want us to play a happy couple too?”
“Not play,” Mr. Rao said gently. “They hoped something real might come of it.”
A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her. “Unbelievable. They hijacked our lives for a fairytale no one asked for.”
Vikram didn’t flinch. “Mr. Rao, is that clause actually in writing? Thismake-it-look-realnonsense?”
Mr. Rao sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately, yes. I was getting to that before you and Mohit turned the room into a WWE ring. It’s in writing. Expectations, appearances, social interactions… your fathers made sure of it.”
“Fine,” Vikram said, his voice like steel. “Then we do what’s required.”
Mahika stormed towards him. “You’re agreeing to this without even asking me?”
“What’s there to ask?” he replied calmly. “We’re putting on a face for the world. One year. Then we’re done.”
