The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the corridors of Rathore & Associates, mingling with the usual Monday chaos. Associates scurried from cubicle to cubicle, files tucked under their arms, and the sharp click of heels echoed across polished floors. But Naina Kapoor moved like a tornado with too many files and not enough grace.

She burst into her best friend Sana’s cabin, her hair slightly windblown, and coffee in one hand, “Why is every Monday a personally directed attack?”

Sana, a junior associate with the sass of a queen and the instincts of a bloodhound, barely looked up from her screen. “Because you’re still in love with Mr. Broody-Boss and refuse to confess. That's karmic punishment.”

Naina narrowed her eyes. “It’s not love. It’s... complicated admiration.”

“For three years?” Sana quirked an eyebrow.

Naina huffed, straightened her blazer, and marched toward Aarav Singh Rathore’s office — her boss, her secret crush, and the walking embodiment of professionalism and ice.

The door to his cabin was slightly ajar. Aarav sat at his desk, crisp in a black suit, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and expression buried in case files. His perfectly sharp jaw ticked once as he glanced at the time.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up.

“I’m early for tomorrow,” Naina offered with a sheepish grin, placing his usual black coffee on the desk. “Two sugars, no cream, and definitely no joy.”

His eyes finally met hers, those unreadable storm-grey depths that always made her forget entire law lectures. “Sit. I need to talk to you.”

That was new. Naina blinked, her heartbeat skipping erratically. She slid into the chair across from him, trying to remain composed.

“It’s not about work,” Aarav said, voice lower than usual. “It’s… personal.”

The universe paused. Sana would have fainted on the spot. Naina swallowed.

“I’m listening.”

He leaned back, his fingers lacing together. “I’m applying for sole custody of my niece, Mishti. My late sister’s daughter.”

Naina’s chest tightened. “I didn’t know… I’m sorry.”

“She’s five. Bright, curious. And currently with my parents who are… not the most stable guardians,” he said with uncharacteristic softness. “The court needs to see she’ll have a loving, stable home. They want emotional support. Marriage. A family unit.”

The penny dropped. Naina’s eyes widened.

“I need a fiancée,” he said bluntly. “Just until the hearing is over.”

“Wait, are you asking me to—?”

“Yes. You’re the only one Mishti trusts. And I trust you.”

The words felt heavier than the moment allowed. He trusted her. That shouldn’t have made her heart flutter — but it did.

“This is highly unethical,” she said, more to fill the silence than out of protest.

“I’m not asking for forever,” Aarav replied. “Just pretend. Help me win custody.”

She stared at him. The Aarav Rathore — cold, brilliant, untouchable — was asking her to play his fiancée. A fake relationship with the man she’d dreamed of secretly loving, in late-night thoughts she never dared voice.

“How long will I have to live with you?” she asked slowly.

“A month. Two, at most. Until the hearing’s final.”

Naina inhaled deeply and stood, pretending to think, though she knew her answer.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “But on one condition.”

Aarav’s brow lifted. “What?”

“Don’t fall in love with me, sir.”

His lips quirked — a half-smile, barely there — but his eyes lingered on her longer than they should have.

“I won’t,” he said. “And don’t expect me to believe you won’t either.”

Later that evening, Naina stood at the doorstep of Aarav’s upscale apartment, suitcase in hand, heart thudding in her chest. Before she could knock, the door swung open, and a small figure crashed into her legs.

“Nainaaaa!” squealed Mishti, latching onto her. “Uncle said you’re coming to stay! Are you really gonna be my fake Mummy?”

Naina knelt to hug her, laughing. “Only if you promise to be my real princess.”

Mishti’s eyes lit up. “Deal!”

Aarav appeared behind her, watching the scene quietly, his features softer than she’d ever seen them.

“She’s been waiting at the door for an hour,” he said.

“She’s adorable,” Naina replied, standing. “How do you survive her cuteness every day?”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “She wins every argument.”

As Naina stepped inside, her world shifted. Everything felt surreal — the soft lighting, the scent of warm vanilla and coffee, and the quiet hum of something domestic. Something… almost like a family.

She unpacked in the guest room, smiling to herself as Mishti peeked in every five minutes to offer stuffed toys for “decoration.” Aarav leaned in from the hallway, arms crossed.

“She’s already attached to you,” he said.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Their eyes met. Something unspoken passed between them — a pulse of connection, fragile but real. Neither spoke it aloud, but for the first time, the line between pretending and possibility… blurred.

End of Episode 1

💌 Emotional Note:

Sometimes, the most powerful beginnings are hidden in the softest agreements. 💍

The waiting area outside Family Court Room 3B buzzed with soft murmurs, rustling papers, and anxious parents. Naina sat beside Aarav on the stiff wooden bench, knees locked, palms cold, heart racing.

Her fingers fiddled with the fake engagement ring he’d handed her in the car — simple, elegant, and just tight enough to remind her this wasn’t real. Yet it gleamed too comfortably on her finger. Like it belonged.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Aarav didn’t look at her. “I don’t do nervous.”

“Of course not,” she mumbled, “You're Aarav Singh Rathore. You probably intimidate the judge in her own courtroom.”

That earned her a faint side-glance. Not a smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely.

Before either could say more, a court officer appeared at the door. “Case 418B. Custody Hearing — Aarav Rathore on behalf of Mishti Sharma. You may enter.”

Aarav stood. Naina rose beside him, smoothing her pastel kurti and adjusting her dupatta. She felt his hand briefly touch the small of her back — a silent cue — as they stepped into the courtroom as a couple.

Fake.

Pretend.

Yet her heart didn’t get the memo.

The judge was a woman in her late fifties, sharp-eyed and steady-voiced — Justice Meera Rao. She adjusted her glasses as her gaze fell on the couple before her.

“I’ve gone through the initial application,” she said, flipping a few pages. “Mr. Rathore, you’ve petitioned for full custody of your niece after your sister’s unfortunate demise. You’ve also requested expedited consideration based on the child’s mental well-being?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Aarav said clearly. “Mishti is struggling with the constant shifts in guardianship. I want to provide her with the most stable environment possible.”

The judge’s eyes flicked to Naina. “And you are?”

Naina straightened her shoulders, voice calm. “Naina Kapoor, Your Honor. I’m Aarav’s… fiancée.”

There was a pause. A brief flicker of curiosity passed over the judge’s face.

“I see. And how long have you been together?”

“Three years,” Naina answered instantly.

Aarav glanced sideways, startled by her smooth delivery. She didn’t even blink.

“We met at the firm. It started as mutual respect,” she added, smiling softly, “and turned into something deeper. Especially after Mishti came into our lives.”

The judge tilted her head. “Interesting. You live together currently?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Aarav replied this time. “We moved in last week. For Mishti’s sake, we wanted to create a home environment.”

Justice Meera tapped her pen thoughtfully. “I’ll want to see how the child responds in this setup. I’ll be appointing a family welfare officer to visit the home unannounced.”

“We’re ready,” Aarav said.

Before the judge could dismiss them, Mishti, sitting quietly with the court nanny nearby, piped up in a tiny, clear voice.

“Excuse me, Your Honor?”

Everyone turned. Mishti stood on tiptoe, peeking over the wooden barrier.

“Yes, sweetheart?” the judge asked, her face softening.

“I just wanted to say… I like my new mummy. She sings me songs at bedtime and smells like flowers and makes Daddy laugh.”

Naina blinked.

Did Mishti just call Aarav Daddy?

Aarav cleared his throat, visibly caught off-guard.

The judge, meanwhile, smiled. “Noted.”

She banged the gavel once. “Next hearing in two weeks. Until then, the child remains with Mr. Rathore. Good day.”

Outside the courtroom, Naina crouched down, hugging Mishti tightly. “You were so brave in there, angel.”

Mishti grinned. “I told the truth. That’s what grownups say, right?”

Aarav watched them both — the way Naina’s hand brushed through Mishti’s hair, the warmth in her touch. It didn’t look fake. It didn’t feel fake.

For the first time, the weight in his chest — the constant tightness he lived with — loosened just a little.

As they walked out together, Naina matched pace with him.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded once.

Then, with a dry chuckle, “You’re really good at lying under oath.”

Naina snorted. “I call it creative storytelling.”

He paused, glanced sideways. “You didn’t have to say we’ve been together for three years.”

“I figured it made us sound serious,” she replied, not looking at him. “Why? Do you think I oversold it?”

“No,” he murmured. “I think you made it sound real.”

Their eyes met — just briefly. And in that second, the world blurred. Cars honked. Phones buzzed. None of it reached them.

“Come on,” Aarav said, breaking the silence. “Let’s take her home.”

📍Scene: Aarav’s Apartment – Evening

Mishti was asleep in Naina’s lap, holding her stuffed dinosaur. The TV played low music in the background. Naina stroked the child’s hair absentmindedly, humming under her breath.

Aarav stood at the doorway, arms crossed.

“She really likes you.”

Naina looked up. “She’s… easy to love.”

He walked in, sat on the opposite couch. “Thank you. For doing all this.”

She shrugged. “You don’t have to thank me. I care about her. And…” she hesitated, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

Aarav quirked a brow. “Are you flirting with your fake fiancé?”

Naina smiled, a soft blush creeping in. “Maybe.”

The air between them warmed.

He stared at her for a long moment before standing. “I’ll bring dinner. Thai okay?”

She nodded.

But even as he left the room, her fingers absentmindedly touched the engagement ring.

Fake.

Still… it shimmered with something that no courtroom or logic could define.

End of Episode 2

💌 Emotional Note:

Sometimes, it’s not the words you say in court that matter. It’s the silent truths spoken in glances… and in bedtime stories. 🌙💫

It was a quiet Thursday afternoon. Rain tapped gently against the apartment windows, and the aroma of cardamom chai drifted from the kitchen where Naina stirred a pot while humming an old Lata Mangeshkar tune. Mishti sat at the dining table, crayons scattered, her tiny hands busy drawing what looked like three stick figures holding hands.

“One’s you,” she explained proudly, holding up the paper. “One’s Daddy. And this is me — the smiley one.”

Naina chuckled. “You gave yourself a crown.”

“Because I’m the princess!”

Naina leaned down and kissed her head. “You are. And you’ve got the world’s kindest heart.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Naina wiped her hands and walked over, expecting maybe a delivery boy. But instead, a woman stood at the door in a formal blue saree, holding a notepad and a government ID badge.

“Ms. Naina Kapoor?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Leela Joshi from the Family Welfare Department. I’m here for a surprise home visit, as per the court’s order regarding Mishti Sharma’s custody case.”

“Oh!” Naina blinked, surprised. “Please come in.”

The woman walked in, glancing around the apartment. It was warm and tastefully arranged — mostly Aarav’s doing — with some of Naina’s recent touches. The scented candles, the children’s books now filling a shelf, and a cheerful blanket draped over the couch gave it a homey feeling.

Leela turned toward Mishti. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Mishti smiled politely. “Hi! Want to see my drawing?”

“She’s been making a family portrait,” Naina added, offering tea.

“Lovely,” Leela replied, smiling. “Is Mr. Rathore home?”

As if on cue, the door opened and Aarav walked in, tie loosened, hair slightly damp from the rain. He froze upon seeing the officer.

“Mr. Rathore,” Leela greeted. “We’re just making sure Mishti’s in a safe and nurturing home.”

“Of course,” he replied, offering a handshake. “Sorry for not being here earlier.”

“No worries. I prefer catching families as they really are, not staged.”

Naina winced internally. Aarav’s brows twitched.

Leela began her questions while observing everything — the fridge covered in Mishti’s doodles, a picture of all three of them in the hallway (Naina didn’t even remember when it was taken), and the child’s bedroom filled with plush toys.

“Who does bedtime?” Leela asked, pen hovering.

“I do,” Naina said at the same time as Aarav.

They looked at each other.

“I tell her stories,” Naina clarified.

“And I check under the bed for monsters,” Aarav added smoothly.

Leela raised a brow, clearly amused. “Sounds like a good balance.”

Mishti tugged on her sleeve. “Wanna see how my mummy sings to me?”

“Maybe later,” Naina muttered, cheeks turning red.

But the officer nodded. “Sure.”

To Naina’s horror, Mishti dragged her toward the child’s room and leapt into bed, pulling the covers to her chin dramatically. “Mummy always sings Chanda Hai Tu,” she announced.

Naina looked helplessly at Aarav.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching with quiet amusement.

So she did. Softly. And by the time the second verse came around, Aarav was no longer leaning — he had stepped in and sat beside the bed, watching both of them.

Leela scribbled something down.

When they returned to the living room, Leela looked more than satisfied. “Mishti seems happy, loved, and emotionally secure. That’s exactly what we hope to see.”

“Thank you,” Naina said, relaxing just a little.

Leela paused at the door, smiling. “You two… seem very genuine. I’ve seen many fakes over the years. But if you’re pretending, you’re both very good at it.”

She left, and the door clicked shut.

Later that night, after Mishti had fallen asleep between a pile of books and her stuffed tiger, Naina walked into the kitchen where Aarav stood leaning against the counter, sipping water.

“That was intense,” she said.

“She liked you.”

Naina smiled. “That’s good. Hopefully it helps your case.”

He looked at her quietly. “You were amazing with Mishti.”

“You make it easy to love her.”

“And me?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

Naina froze.

She looked up, eyes catching his. “What do you want me to say?”

He took a step closer.

“That you meant what you said in court.”

She swallowed. “I said we’ve been together three years.”

“Were you imagining it?” he asked, teasingly — but his voice was softer than usual.

Naina laughed nervously. “Don’t flatter yourself, sir.”

Aarav stepped even closer. The air between them changed.

“She called me Daddy.”

“I know,” Naina whispered. “I didn’t tell her to. She just... sees what we’re pretending to be and believes it’s real.”

He nodded slowly. “Sometimes I forget we’re pretending.”

Naina’s breath caught.

Then, gently, she smiled. “Well... don’t fall for me, remember?”

“I told you not to fall for me,” he replied, eyes warm.

“I think you broke the rule first.”

They stood in silence, the closeness between them thicker than any legal document could define. His hand brushed hers briefly, then dropped away.

“I’ll clean up,” he said quietly, turning away.

But that night, as Naina lay in bed, Mishti’s tiny body curled beside her, she stared at the engagement ring again — and whispered into the dark:

“I think I already have.”

End of Episode 3

💌 Emotional Note:

When love is faked for the world, sometimes... the heart forgets the difference. 💍❤️