The playlist in Aarini’s room hummed softly in the background, the delicate strums of an acoustic guitar blending perfectly with the light rustle of her pink umbrella suit as she twirled slightly in front of the mirror.

The room smelled faintly of rose talc and her favourite vanilla body mist. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, casting a warm golden glow across the floor and her half-made bed.

Aarini Mehta stood in front of the full-length mirror, inspecting her final look with narrowed eyes and a tilted head. The soft pink fabric of her cotton umbrella suit flowed down in graceful folds, the hem dancing just above her ankles.

It was embroidered lightly with white thread near the sleeves and the neckline, subtle yet elegant—just like her. The white chiffon dupatta with its delicate silver border sat draped over her left shoulder, trailing down the front like a soft cloud.

Her small silver jhumkas gleamed with every move, catching the light as they swung gently against her neck.

Her hair—thick, wavy, and rich brown—fell open over her shoulders, soft curls settling around her collarbone as though they had minds of their own.

She’d left her makeup minimal—a touch of kohl, a light blush, and a dash of tinted lip balm that matched the pink of her outfit.

With a small grin, she leaned closer to the mirror and puckered her lips dramatically.

“Looking gorgeous, Darling!,” she whispered to herself and blew herself a flying kiss.

“You're welcome, world.”

Of course, the sass was a mask. It always was. Because thirty minutes ago, this same girl had been lying face down on her bed, groaning into a pillow while on call her best friend Riya tried every trick in the book to drag her out of the house.

“Aarini, listen to me! You have to come today!”

“I don’t want to meet your fiance sahil, Riya. I just want to read, eat Maggi, and pretend people don’t exist.”

But Riya had not been having it. At all.

“Don’t be dramatic! Sahil’s my fiance, and I want you to meet him before engagement—and you promised you’d be less antisocial this year! Come on yaar, I’ll even gift you a new dark romance novel. Hardcover. Limited edition. Signed copy!”

Aarini had sat up like someone had just mentioned SRK in her living room.

“What book?”

“The one with that brooding mafia guy and the morally grey heroine you like so much.”

That had done it.

After another fifteen minutes of mock blackmail, emotional threats, and one final promise to buy her dessert on the way back, Aarini had caved.

“Fine!” she had huffed dramatically.

“Okay. Milte hain. Tu mujhe address send kar dena, main aa jaungi.”

("Okay. See you. Send me the address, I will come.")

But Riya being Riya had other plans.

“Arey no! Main tere ghar aa rahi hoon. Phir meri car se chalenge. Aaj Lucy ko rest de.”

("Oh no! I am coming to your house. Then we will go in my car. Give Lucy some rest today.")

Aarini had blinked, offended.

“Why? Why should my Lucy rest? What’s wrong with my scooter? She’s a warrior.”

“Please! I’ll drop you back myself. Pakka. But I’m coming to pick you up. Ready rehna. And don’t argue—bye!”

And just like that, she had cut the call.

Aarini had stared at her phone, narrowed her eyes, and muttered,

“This girl needs a warning label.”

Now, as she checked herself one final time in the mirror, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes fondly. Riya’s chaos was a part of her life she had grown used to—and lowkey couldn’t live without.

She slipped her feet into her white kolhapuri flats, adjusted the bangles on her right wrist, a bracelet on her left wrist and grabbed her sling bag. With one last glance at the mirror and a cheeky wink to herself, she turned toward the door.

.

.

.

The moment she stepped out of her room and started descending the stairs, familiar voices floated from the living room.

Her mother and Badi Maa were sitting with their tea, chatting softly, the corner of the living room filled with the calm comfort that only women of the house could create.

A steel plate of cut fruits rested on the table, half-eaten, and the afternoon light shimmered through the window, dancing off the glass center table.

“Maa, Badi Maa, I’m going out. Riya is coming to pick me up. She’ll drop me back home too, so don’t worry.”

Aarini said casually, reaching the last step and adjusting her dupatta.

Her mother looked up and smiled.

“Theek hai beta, dhyan se jana.”

(“Okay beta, go carefully.”)

But Badi Maa, ever the opportunist, tilted her head and gave her a mischievous smile.

“Waise Aarini, ab to Riya bhi engagement kar rahi hai...” she began sweetly, knowingly.

“To ab humein teri ya Divya ki shaadi ki bhi tayyariyan sochni chahiye, hai na?”

(“By the way, Arini, now even Riya is getting engaged...”
“So now we should think about preparations for your or Divya's wedding too, right?”)

Aarini’s eyes widened, her expression turning into that of a betrayed protagonist in a soap opera.

“Aap log mujhe maar kyun nahi dete?”

(“Why don’t you guys kill me?”)

Her mom laughed, and Badi Maa raised a brow in mock seriousness.

“Kya? Ab kya galat bol diya maine? Larki badi ho gyi hai... achi bhi hai... ab waqt aa gaya hai.”

("What? What wrong did I say? The girl has grown up... she is good too... now the time has come.")

Aarini folded her arms.

“Divya ka toh mujhe nahi pata, par main? No way. Mujhe simple shaadi nahi chahiye. Mujhe toh kuch... alag karna hai.”

("I don't know about Divya, but me? No way. I don't want a simple wedding. I want to do something... different.")

“Alag matlab?” her mother asked, amused.

(“Different means?”)

“Matlab,” Aarini declared proudly,

("Means")

“main toh kisi aise se shaadi karungi! Jo mere liye kuch b kr skta ho, mere bina khe hi meri saari baatein jaan le or mujhe ekdum princess treatment de, jo mere liye gundo ki pitayi krde just because wo mujhe dekh rhe ho, hyee— Simple banda nahi chahiye mujhe. Aur waise bhi... abhi toh meri reading list bhi khatam nahi hui.”

(“I will marry someone like this! Who can do anything for me, who can know all my things without me saying anything and give me the princess treatment, who can beat up goons for me just because they are looking at me, hyee- I don’t want a simple guy. And anyway… my reading list is not over yet.”)

They both laughed at that, shaking their heads.

“Tumhari duniya hi alag hai,” her Badi Maa said, sipping her tea.

(“Your world is different.”)

“Exactly!” Aarini smirked.

“So please, apne gande khyaal mere dimag mein laana band karo.”

(“So please, stop bringing your dirty thoughts into my mind.”)

At that exact moment, a car horn blared outside.

“Woh aa gayi!” Aarini exclaimed with relief, grabbing her phone and heading to the door.

(“She's here!”)

“Okay bye! Don’t wait up. Love you!”

“Love you too!” her mom called.

“Aur apni Riya ko bhi bolna congratulations!”

(“And tell your Riya also congratulations!”)
.

.

.

.

Outside, Riya’s white car stood parked at the gate. Riya, the chaos queen herself, leaned against the driver’s door wearing oversized sunglasses and an attitude that could silence storms.

Her long hair was braided stylishly to one side, and she looked like the walking definition of a Pinterest board for brides-to-be who were also Instagram influencers.

Aarini walked up with an eye-roll and a grin.

“Hello, soon-to-be-bride.”

Riya gasped in mock offense.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is! You’re abandoning me. Who’ll come café-hopping with me now?”

“Your dark romance mafia hero?” Riya smirked, unlocking the car.

“Maybe he’ll finally crash into your life now that you’re stepping out for once.”

They both laughed as Aarini climbed into the passenger seat.

As the car pulled out of the gate and merged onto the main road, Aarini looked out the window, smile still playing on her lips. For all her sarcasm and bookworm tendencies, she couldn’t deny it—this day had already started better than she expected.

What she didn’t know...

Was that her destination held more than just a casual introduction.

.

.

.

.

The engine purred softly as the car began to roll through the buzzing streets, slipping between traffic like a secret whispered in chaos. Aarini stared out of the window for a moment, lips pursed, expression unreadable.

Riya was humming something under her breath—an old Arijit song, probably, judging by her dreamy eyes and silly smile.

Aarini glanced sideways.

"Ary yaar, main Sahil se mil kar kya karungi? Tum dono ke beech mein kabab mein haddi banungi. Mujhe kyun bulaya tune?"

("Dude, what will I even do meeting Sahil? I'll be the third wheel between you two lovebirds. Why did you even call me?")

Riya chuckled, eyes still on the road, but amusement flickered on her face.

"Aree nahi! Sirf main aur Sahil nahi hain. Usne apne kisi friend ko bulaya hai. Actually, hum dono chaahte the ki hum ek dusre ke best friends se milen."

("No, silly! It’s not just Sahil and me. He’s bringing one of his friends too. We both wanted to meet each other’s best friends.")

Aarini’s brow arched dramatically. Her voice took on a teasing note.

"Ohhh! Toh yeh sab planning chal rahi thi. Matlab engagement se pehle hi love quadrangle ki tayari ho rahi hai!"

("Ohhh! So that’s what’s cooking. You're planning a love quadrangle even before the engagement!")

Riya laughed.

"Shut up, Aarini. Tu toh waise hi overly dramatic hai."

("Shut up, Aarini. You’re too dramatic already.")

Aarini flipped her hair like a diva and smirked.

“Dramatic hona meri hobby hai. Aur tum dono ki age mein kitna difference hai, hmm?”

("Being dramatic is my hobby. And by the way, what’s the age gap between you two?")

Riya paused. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, just a fraction.

“Not much….”

Aarini’s eyes widened. “Not much?”

She gasped like Riya had just confessed to marrying a mafia don.

“Matlab kahi yeh ‘novel wala’ age gap toh nahi?! 10–12 saal bada, mature CEO type, emotional damage, sharp jawline… But in Nobel, no matter how much difference there is in their age, they are hot and handsome, but in real life, even with a little age gap, the boy looks old.”

("Don’t tell me it’s one of those ‘novel type’ age gaps. Like 10–12 years older, mature CEO type, emotionally scarred, sharp jawline…But in Nobel, no matter how much difference there is in their age, they are hot and handsome, but in real life, even with a little age gap, the boy looks old. ")

She paused, clutched her chest with mock passion.

“But novel man is My type, in short.”

Riya burst out laughing, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep the car steady.

“Pagal hai kya? Bas 7 saal. Aur haan, he’s not old, okay? He’s charming and smart and mature. Budha nahi lagta!”

("Are you mad? It’s just 7 years. And no, he doesn’t look old! He’s charming, smart, mature. Not some oldie!")

Aarini made a fake skeptical face.

“Chalo theek hai… par agar usne salt-pepper hair dye se chhupa rakhi ho toh?”

("Okay fine… but what if he’s hiding salt-and-pepper hair with dye?")

Riya gave her a side-eye.

“Aarini…”

Aarini raised both hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine! But I swear, koi bhi mere book boyfriend se zyada handsome nahi ho sakta!”

"No one can beat my book boyfriend in looks, okay!"

And with that, she turned dramatically in her seat, sighing as if Romeo himself was lost in the pages of her Kindle.

“Tall, dark, sharp jawline, abs that could slice bread, those mysterious grey eyes… hyeee…”

she placed her palm over her chest like a heroine from an Ekta Kapoor show.

Riya rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out.

“You need therapy. For real.”

Aarini grinned.

“I have books. Who needs therapy when you’ve got emotionally unavailable fictional men who call you ‘mine’ in Chapter 17?”

Riya burst out laughing again, this time wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Tujhse zyada pagal ladki nahi dekhi maine.”

("I’ve never met a girl crazier than you.")

Aarini raised an eyebrow.

“Phir bhi best friend rakh liya. Dekha? Tumhari choice bhi mere jaisi hi dramatic hai.”

("Yet you kept me as your best friend. See? Even your choices are dramatic like me.")

Riya smiled. It was the kind of smile that came from years of shared secrets, birthday surprises, and late-night phone calls.

“Kya karein? Tumhare bina meri zindagi boring hoti.”

("What can I do? Life would be boring without you.")

The mood softened for a moment. Aarini smiled back.

“Waise yaad rakhna… wapas aate hue tujhse meri dark romance novel leni hai. Promise yaad hai na?”

("By the way, remember your promise… you owe me a dark romance novel on our way back. You haven’t forgotten, right?")

Riya nodded like a soldier accepting a life-or-death mission.

“Yaad hai, baba! Pakka dilaungi. Agar nahi dilaayi toh tu mujhe chhod degi kya shi salamat?”

("I remember, Baba! I will definitely get it for you. If I don't get it for you, will you leave me safe?")

Aarini gave a playful gasp.

“HA! That’s emotional blackmail!”

Riya winked.

“Exactly like I did with you half an hour ago.”

Both girls erupted in laughter again.

Aarini leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes for a second. The sun filtered through the glass, painting gold streaks on her skin. Her thoughts wandered.

“Shaadi, engagement, ye sab kaafi filmy chal raha hai. Par… kya mere liye koi aisa hoga? Jo mujhe mere hi jaisa pagal, dreamy aur thoda emotional samjhe?”

("Marriage, engagement… everything seems so filmy these days. But… will there ever be someone for me? Someone as crazy, dreamy, and emotional as I am?")

Riya’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Abe tu sach mein book world mein hi rehti hai kya?”

("Do you actually live inside your book world?")

Aarini grinned.

“Better than reality. Kam se kam waha betrayal ke baad banda redemption arc leke lautta toh hai. Real life mein toh ‘seen-zoned’ ho jaate hain ya jhute logo se paala pdta hai.”

("Better than reality. At least in books, the guy returns after betrayal with a redemption arc. In real life, you just get scene-zoned. or you have to deal with liars.")

Riya shook her head, lips twitching.

“Tu na ek din kisi aise ladke se milegi jo tujhe bhi ‘mine’ kahega, but in real life. Tab dekhungi tere reactions.”

("One day, you’ll meet a guy who’ll actually call you ‘mine’ in real life. Then I’ll see your real reactions.")

Aarini smirked.

“Tab tak toh main apne fictional husbands ke saath hi khush hoon.”

("Till then, I’m perfectly happy with my fictional husbands.")

Their laughter danced in the small space of the car, echoing off the glass and vinyl. Outside, the city blurred into a moving painting, but inside that little car, two best friends sat cocooned in their own world—one about to step into the unknown of commitment, and the other still living between the pages of dark romance.

And somehow, both felt exactly where they were meant to be.

.

.

.

The car rolled to a smooth halt just outside the chic, glass-fronted café, the air outside humming with low murmurs and the faint clink of crockery.

“Tu chal, main aati hoon. Car thik se park karti hoon, warna later issue ho jayega,” Riya said, already shifting gears with practiced ease.

(“You go ahead, I’ll come. I’ll park the car properly, or it’ll be a problem later.”)

Aarini popped open the door and glanced at her.

“Okay okay, come fast. Mujhe bhook lagi h!” she groaned, rubbing her stomach.

(“Okay okay, come fast. I’m starving!”)

Riya chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Drama queen.”

Aarini stepped out, stretching like a cat finally freed from a cage. She adjusted her sling bag, pushed her hair behind one ear, and started walking towards the café entrance, her eyes scanning the stylish little place through the glass windows.

A soft breeze rustled past her face, bringing with it the comforting aroma of roasted coffee beans.

But fate had other plans.

Just as her foot moved forward, her chappal scraped against a small stone—almost invisible on the tiled pavement. Her balance faltered.

“Shit—” she gasped.

Time slowed.

She wobbled, one foot off the ground, her arms instinctively flailing in the air like some weird modern dance. Her heart raced, breath caught halfway up her throat. Panic surged. Her eyes clenched shut.

Oh god, yeh toh public mein gir jaungi. Saara style gaya tel lene.

(Oh god, I’m about to fall in public. All my style—gone to hell.)

She braced for the impact, already imagining the awkward scene—falling flat on her face, people staring, maybe even someone recording it for Instagram.

This is it.

My tragic heroine moment.

But before gravity could complete its betrayal—

A strong hand gripped her left wrist.

Firm.

Certain.

Unshaking.

In one swift tug, she was yanked away from the fall and straight into someone’s chest.

Thud.

Her palms landed directly on a hard, broad surface—fabric-clad, warm, and radiating something almost electric. For a moment, she just stood there, plastered against him, her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and her pride.

She could feel his heartbeat under her palm.

Steady.

Deep.

Strong.

The scent of his cologne hit her nose—dark, woody, with a teasing edge of spice. Masculine. Alluring.

Aarini's eyes flew open.

And what she saw made her forget to blink and eyes widened in shock.

He was tall. Devastatingly tall. Dusky skin glowing under the soft sunlight, his black hair tousled like he’d just walked out of a slow-mo scene. Sharp jawline that could’ve been sculpted with a Greek god’s precision. His lips slightly parted in surprise, and eyes—those eyes—deep, sharp, like they were reading her entire soul.

And right now, those eyes were… looking at her.

Just.

Her.

“Careful, wild cat."