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Rajveer Singh Rathore was supposed to marry my sister, but now we are bound in a marriage.
He never wanted me and I also don't want him. I love someone else, and he loves my sister.
A marriage tangled...
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In shadows, truths lie veiled, unseen, Masks adorn, emotions weave a screen. Amidst the crowd, whose love sustains? In life's dance, who truly remains?
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"Are you really getting married?" My best friend, Arhaan Chauhan asked for the thousandth time.
"Do I need to shout it from the rooftops?" I snapped, my patience wearing thin."
"Great, then have a baby really quick so that my Agastya can play with him," he remarked casually, oblivious to my irritation.
"What am I to you? A child producing machine. And my child is not going to be a little toy with whom your kid can play." I shot back, my frustration boiling over.
"You sounded like a wife who is tortured by her husband to produce kids. And if my Agastya wants to treat your kid like a little toy then he definitely will. And stop being a snappy bitch," He said in a calm and unemotional tone.
That's why we are best friends, we don't let emotions overpower us. And because of that we always get what we want. My sights are already set on a girl with honey brown eyes. Her face appears in front of me whenever I close my eyes. And the way she ignored me only fueled my desire for her further.
"Find yourself a wife. You're sounding desperate. And have as many kids as you want," I said with a smirk, his jaw clenched.
It's his weak point.
"Dad," a sweet voice interrupted, and Arhaan's expression softened instantly.
We both turned to see Agastya, a spitting image of his father, but only in appearance. It's a relief that he is neither like her father nor like me in emotions.
"Yes, little champ," Arhaan replied warmly, and Agastya beamed as he approached us.
"I'm starving, Dad," Agastya whined, his pout drawing a chuckle from Arhaan.
