Author's POV,
"Hey, Prachi," Sarthak greeted warmly. "Shall we go?"
Prachi nodded, her expression neutral. Her scooty was still in the shop, so she had taken a rickshaw to work that morning. Now, she found herself climbing into Sarthak's car once again, the quiet tension between them palpable.
They drove to one of the hotels Sarthak managed. It was an elegant place, with lush greenery and a serene atmosphere. The restaurant inside was equally refined, with soft lighting and modern decor. Sarthak led Prachi to a table in a private corner, away from the crowd.
After placing their orders, Prachi couldn't wait any longer. She needed to know why they were here.
"What is it you wanted to talk about, Sarthak?" Prachi asked, her tone direct.
Sarthak leaned back in his chair, giving Prachi a reassuring smile, though there was an intensity behind his eyes. The dim lighting of the restaurant cast soft shadows over his face, making his expression harder to read. Prachi watched him closely, waiting for his answer. Her nerves were on edge, and she needed to know what he was thinking—what he wanted from her.
Sarthak took a deep breath before speaking. "Prachi, I wanted to talk to you about the marriage proposal."
Prachi stiffened. Her fingers clenched around her water glass. Of course, it was about that. She had hoped he might be different, that he wouldn't push her the way her mother had, but maybe that was too much to hope for.
Sarthak noticed her reaction and raised a hand, signaling her to wait. "Please, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not ready for marriage either."
Prachi blinked, startled by his confession. "You're not?"
"No," Sarthak said with a sigh, his voice dropping to a more genuine tone. "In fact, I completely understand how you feel. I know you're not ready. And to be honest, neither am I."
Prachi's eyes widened. "Then... why are we even talking about this?"
Sarthak leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked onto hers. "Because if we don't do something about it, our mothers won't stop. You know how persistent they are, Prachi. They'll keep bringing it up, pushing us to do something we're not ready for."
Prachi bit her lip. He wasn't wrong. Her mother, especially, wouldn't let this go. Even if she stopped for a while, she'd bring it up again in a few months, maybe less. The pressure would be constant, a never-ending burden on her already overwhelmed mind.
"And that's why I've been thinking," Sarthak continued, his voice growing softer, more persuasive. "What if we just... agree to the marriage? Not for real, of course. Just on paper. That way, they'll stop pushing us, and we'll have some peace."
Prachi's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Sarthak held up a hand.
"Just hear me out," he said gently. "I'm not talking about a real marriage. I know this sounds crazy, but it's a solution. We get married—on paper. That way, our mothers will stop pushing us. We can keep things simple, no obligations, no real expectations to each other. In two years, when things have settled down and our parents have accepted the situation, we can decide on the next steps when we're ready. There's no pressure."
Prachi's breath caught in her throat. A fake marriage? She stared at him, trying to process the idea. "So, you're suggesting that we... pretend to be married? Just to get our mothers off our backs?"
Sarthak nodded. "Exactly. This way, we can control the situation. By then, our mothers would have accepted the reality, and we can move on with our lives, free from their constant interference."
