I AM READY

Arya stumbled into the house, her drenched clothes clinging to her skin as the storm outside

raged on. The faint sound of Meera’s soft snores reached her ears, a reminder of normalcy

amidst the chaos swirling in her mind. She shut the door behind her gently, careful not to

wake Meera, and stood in the dimly lit hallway, water dripping onto the wooden floor.

Her breaths were shallow, uneven. Shiv’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind:

“Marry me.”

“You have 24 hours to decide.”

She tried to shake it off, but the intensity in his eyes, the commanding tone of his voice, the

weight of his presence—none of it would leave her alone.

Slowly, she walked toward the mirror on the far wall, her steps hesitant as if she were afraid

of what she might see. When she reached it, she stopped and stared at her reflection. The girl

looking back at her seemed like a stranger. Her damp hair clung to her face, her skin pale, her

eyes wide and unblinking. Her reflection felt accusatory, almost alive, demanding answers

she didn’t have.

Her gaze drifted downward to the bandages on her arm and the faint bruises still visible along

her neck. The sight sent a shiver through her, and before she could stop herself, her hands

rose instinctively to her throat.

Both hands clasped around her neck, mimicking the grip of the stalker who had attacked her.

She felt the phantom pressure of his hands—the suffocating force that had drained her of air

and filled her with terror. Her heart raced, and her knees buckled slightly, but she didn’t let

go.

Her breathing grew ragged as she stared at her reflection, her fingers tightening ever so

slightly, as if testing the limits of her fear.

uddenly, she let go, her hands falling to her sides like dead weight. She staggered backward,

clutching the edge of the table near the mirror to steady herself. Her chest heaved as she

struggled to regain her composure.

“This isn’t you,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “You’re not weak.”

But the voice in her head disagreed. It whispered cruelly, insidiously. You’re powerless. You

couldn’t stop him then, and you can’t control what’s happening now.

Arya paced back and forth in the small room, her damp hair clinging to her face, her heart

hammering against her ribcage. The storm outside had subsided to a gentle drizzle, but inside

her, a tempest raged. She glanced toward the sofa where Meera was fast asleep, oblivious to

the war being waged mere feet away.

Her eyes landed on Meera’s phone, lying on the coffee table. Without a second thought, she

grabbed it, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it. Scrolling through the call log, she found

Shiv’s number. She hesitated for a brief second, her thumb hovering over the screen.

But then she pressed it.

The phone rang once. Twice. Then, a low, amused voice greeted her on the other end.

“Arya,” Shiv said smoothly, the faintest hint of a smirk audible in his tone. “I was wondering

when you’d call.”

Her jaw clenched at his audacity. She could almost see his expression—his dark eyes

gleaming with triumph, the corners of his lips curled into that infuriating smirk.

“Let’s do it,” Arya said abruptly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her.

Shiv went silent for a beat, caught off guard. “Do what?” he finally asked, though she knew

he already understood.

Arya tightened her grip on the phone, her knuckles whitening. “Let’s tie the knot, Shiv

Chaudhary,” she said with sharp precision. “You wanted an answer? Fine. I accept. Ready to

add your last name behind mine?”

For the first time, Shiv didn’t have an immediate response. On the other end of the line, he sat

back in his chair, momentarily stunned. He’d expected resistance, hesitation, maybe even an

outright refusal. But this? Arya’s boldness, her sheer defiance, took him off guard.

And then, slowly, a smirk spread across his face. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the

desk as he processed her words.

“Well, well,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “You never fail to surprise me,

Arya.”

Before he could say more, she cut him off. “Good. I’ll expect details tomorrow,” she said

curtly and ended the call before he could respond.

Shiv stared at the phone in his hand, the disconnected tone buzzing in his ear. Then, he leaned

back in his chair, letting out a low, guttural chuckle that echoed in the room.

Impressive. Always so damn impressive.

He ran a hand through his hair, still smirking. “Looks like this storm just got a lot more

interesting,” he muttered to himself, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement.

Though he’d initiated the game, it seemed Arya wasn’t playing by his rules anymore. And he

didn’t know whether to feel threatened or thoroughly exhilarated.

The morning light crept into the house, soft and golden, but it did nothing to improve Meera’s

mood. She shuffled out of her room, hair resembling a bird's nest and her eyes barely open.

Her feet dragged across the floor as she made her way to the kitchen table, mumbling

something incoherent about the cruelty of mornings.

Arya, already up and surprisingly composed, set a steaming cup of chai on the table for

Meera. She had a peculiar calmness about her, which Meera, in her zombie state, failed to

notice.

Meera flopped onto a chair, grabbed the chai like it was her lifeline, and took a long sip. Her

eyelids fluttered a bit, but she still wasn’t fully awake.

“I’m marrying Shiv,” Arya said casually, as though she were announcing a trip to the grocery

store.

Meera hummed in vague acknowledgment, her brain clearly not connecting any dots yet. She

took another sip of chai.

“Hmm… sounds good…”

Another second passed. Then, like a lightning strike, the words hit. Meera froze, mid-sip, her

eyes snapping wide open. She slowly lowered the cup and stared at Arya, her brain

scrambling to process what she just heard.

“You’re what now?”

“I said I’m marrying Shiv,” Arya repeated, taking a calm sip of her chai.

Meera blinked. Then she blinked again. Then—

“WHAT?!”

The word exploded out of her like a firework as she spat her chai halfway across the table.

Arya narrowly dodged it, stepping back just in time.

“Meera!” Arya yelped. “Control yourself!”

Meera ignored her, standing up so fast she almost knocked the chair over. Her hands flailed

dramatically as her voice hit an octave usually reserved for emergency alarms.

“You’re marrying Shiv Chaudhary?! That Shiv? Mr. Broody Eyes? The human smirk

machine? What is happening?!”

Arya shrugged, cool as a cucumber. “Yes, that Shiv. And yes, I’m serious.”

“Serious? You’ve lost it. You’ve completely lost it!” Meera pointed a trembling finger at her,

eyes wide with disbelief. “This has to be a prank. Please tell me it’s a prank. If you’ve hidden

a camera somewhere, I swear I’ll—” She paused, spinning around as if looking for hidden

recording equipment.

Arya sighed, crossing her arms. “It’s not a prank, Meera. Calm down.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?!” Meera flung her arms in the air. “You drop that bomb on

me and expect me to just sip my chai and chill? Are you out of your mind?! Is this because of

the injury? Did the stalker hit you harder than we thought? Blink twice if Shiv is

blackmailing you!”

Arya couldn’t help but chuckle at Meera’s theatrical panic. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just…

logical.”

Ep10

“Logical? LOG---- iiiiCAL?!” Meera repeated, looking more exasperated by the second. “Oh,

sure, Arya, totally logical to marry Mr. Dark-And-Dangerous out of the blue. I mean, why

not? Next, you’ll tell me you’re joining a gang or planning a heist!”

Arya smirked, trying to hide her amusement. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being ridiculous!” Meera shot back, pacing the kitchen like a caffeinated

squirrel. She stopped abruptly and spun toward Arya, her expression shifting from disbelief

to mock horror. “Oh MY MATA RANI Are you pregnant?!”

Arya’s jaw dropped, and she threw a dish towel at Meera’s face. “what the fuck!”

“Well, then explain!” Meera pulled the towel off her head, still looking flustered. “I mean,

Shiv! Of all people! The guy who could probably scare the devil into apologizing. The guy

who looks at everyone like he’s deciding whether or not to buy their soul! How does this

make sense?”

Arya rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her chai. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. Because it’s insane!” Meera slumped back into her chair, shaking

her head. “You’ve officially lost it. I need more chai. Scratch that, I need therapy. Or a drink.

Something to get me through this.”

Arya slid her another cup of chai, smirking. “Relax. You’ll survive.”

Meera glared at her, clutching the cup like it was her last tether to sanity. “I don’t know if I

want to survive this.”

Arya burst out laughing, and for a moment, Meera was outraged and than joined in, though

her laughter was tinged with disbelief. “I swear,” Meera muttered between chuckles,

“definitely I am living in Indian daily soap ..The amount of twist I am having in past these days"

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