The Professor's Bride

The weight of Rajeev Raichand's words settled over the crowd like an unshakable storm.

"She will be married today. In the same mandap."

The murmurs of the villagers grew louder, some in shock, others in satisfaction. The humiliation of one of the most powerful families in their village had been settled in the only way they deemed fit.

Ananya felt like the ground beneath her was slipping away. This couldn't be happening.

Her father turned to Virat. "Get ready. The wedding will take place before sunset."

Virat gave a short, silent nod before walking away, his shoulders stiff with unspoken words.

Ananya's chest tightened. He was really going to do this. Marry her. Without love, without emotion—just like it was a business deal.

And her own father had sold her into it.

The moment they entered the privacy of the haveli, Ananya turned on her father, her anger boiling over.

"How could you do this?" she yelled, her voice shaking. "How could you throw me away like some bargaining chip?"

Rajeev didn't flinch. He stood with his back straight, his face hard.

"This is not a discussion," he said coldly.

Ananya laughed bitterly, tears stinging her eyes. "You're ruining my life, and you don't even care, do you?"

Her mother, Poonam Raichand, placed a trembling hand on her husband's arm. "Rajeev, maybe we should think this through—"

"There's nothing to think about," Rajeev snapped, his voice carrying years of authority. He turned back to Ananya, his expression now pained. "Do you know what they were saying about you out there?"

Ananya clenched her fists. "I don't care—"

"But I do!" he shouted, for the first time in his life losing control.

Ananya stumbled back at the force of his voice.

Rajeev exhaled, running a tired hand down his face. "I have built this family name with everything I had. I already told you, I won't bear any nonsense in Raigad, but you- you know what your grandfather did for us- he did so much and what do we give in return- a ruined family name- NO! I will not let my daughter ruin it."

Her stomach twisted. "Dad— is your name more important to you than me?"

"You are getting married," he said quietly but firmly. "Today. This discussion is over."

Her lips trembled. "What about what I want?"

Her father looked at her, his eyes hollow, defeated.

"This is bigger than what you want, Ananya."

And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there—shattered, powerless, and lost.

Ananya just recalled all those moment she spent in USA with her boyfriend, Richard, they way he proposed her when they were in college, the memories they built together, for a second she thought to run, but she cannot hurt her father again, she felt stuck.

Ananya sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of everything crashing down on her.

This wasn't supposed to be her life.

She was supposed to be back in New York.

With him.

Her fingers clenched the fabric of her lehenga as her mind drifted back to the past.

To Richard Warren.

Tall. Charming. With sharp blue eyes and a dangerous smirk, Richard was everything her father hated.

But he was everything she had ever wanted.

Sneaking out to rooftop parties. Stolen kisses in the back of his sports car. Whispered dreams of running away together.

"Let's leave all of this, Ana," he had told her once, tracing lazy patterns on her wrist. "Just you and me. Screw your father's money. We'll build our own empire."

She had believed him.

She had loved him.

And now, she was about to marry a man who barely looked at her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Her life wasn't just ruined—it was over.

She sobbed into her hands, knowing there was no escape now.

Outside, the drums of the wedding procession began to beat.

Her fate was sealed.

Only then she thought of better option than running.

The wedding drums echoed through the haveli, the scent of burning incense and fresh roses filling the air.

Ananya stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself in the heavy red bridal lehenga. The gold embroidery shimmered, the veil framed her face, but all she saw was a woman trapped in someone else's fate.

Her father's words still echoed in her mind.
"This is bigger than what you want, Ananya."

Her throat tightened. She wouldn't let this ruin her life.

If she was going to marry Virat, she would do it on her own terms.

She found him standing near the courtyard's entrance, away from the crowd. He was already dressed in a crisp sherwani, his posture straight, his face unreadable.

For a moment, she hesitated.

But then she stepped forward.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice firm.

Virat turned slightly, his dark eyes calm, unreadable. "What is there left to say?"

She inhaled sharply, gripping her dupatta. "I want a contract marriage."

A flicker of something crossed his face. "A contract?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "This isn't a real marriage. This is just damage control for my father's name. I'll stay for a few months, and once everything has settled, we'll get divorced."

Silence.

The flickering light from the brass lamps cast shadows across his face, highlighting his sharp features.

Then, he let out a short, humorless chuckle. "You think this is a business deal?"

"It is," she said stubbornly. "Here, in your village, my father's name is everything. But in New York, no one cares. This scandal won't follow me forever."

She crossed her arms, her gaze defiant. "You have nothing to lose."

His jaw clenched. "And you? What do you gain?"

She exhaled sharply. "My freedom."

Virat didn't speak for a long moment. Then—he nodded.

"Fine," he said quietly. "A contract marriage it is."

Ananya should have felt relieved.

But then he stepped closer, his voice lower, steadier.

"But let me make one thing clear," he said, his gaze locked onto hers. "You might walk away from this marriage in a few months. But until then—you will be my wife."

Something heavy settled in her chest.

She wanted to believe this was just an agreement. Just a deal.

But the way he looked at her—like he was sealing something unspoken between them—made her heart pound just a little too fast.

And for the first time that night, she wondered if she had just made a mistake.