Maya (Ms.independent )

The moment Abhiraj stepped into my apartment, I knew I had made a mistake.

He stood in the doorway like some overgrown king surveying his kingdom-and hating every inch of it. His sharp gaze roamed over the space, taking in the minimalist furniture, the books stacked on my coffee table, the warm, lived-in feel of my home. His lips curled in clear disapproval.

"This," he said flatly, "is where you live?"

I crossed my arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Yes, Abhiraj. This is what normal people call an apartment. Not a palace. You'll survive."

He let out a humorless laugh, stepping inside as if the floor might give way beneath him. "I wouldn't be so sure."

I rolled my eyes, already exhausted. I hadn't even wanted him here, but Dadaji had made it clear-if Abhiraj and I were going to pretend to be a real couple, he needed to understand my world.

I didn't care for his opinion. Let him be uncomfortable. Maybe then he'd get a taste of what it felt like to be forced into something against your will.

He turned to me with a smirk, the kind that probably made other women swoon. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't other women.

"No servants?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock surprise. "No staff at your beck and call?"

I stared at him. "I manage just fine on my own."

He made a noncommittal sound, then strode over to the couch and sank into it like a man settling into his worst nightmare. "Hard, lumpy, uncomfortable. Just like I imagined."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Are you going to spend the entire time whining? Because if so, I can recommend a hotel."

He smirked again, stretching his long legs out. "Tempting. But no. I think I'll stay. After all, I wouldn't want to disappoint Dadaji."

I knew what he was doing. He thought if he made this unbearable, I'd be the one to break first. That I'd be the one to beg for a way out.

He didn't know me at all.

---

Later That Night

I was halfway through reviewing a campaign for Eterna Vision when I heard it-the unmistakable clatter of something falling in my kitchen.

Frowning, I stood and made my way over, only to find Abhiraj staring down at my open fridge, looking personally offended.

I arched a brow. "Problem?"

He turned to me slowly. "Where is the chef?"

I blinked. "The who?"

"The chef, Maya," he repeated, as if I were an idiot. "The person who prepares your meals?"

I snorted. "You mean me?"

His expression twisted like I had just confessed to being a serial killer. "You cook?"

"Yes, Abhiraj. I cook."

He muttered something under his breath and shut the fridge. "Unbelievable."

I rolled my eyes and moved past him, grabbing ingredients for pasta. "If you're hungry, you can order takeout."

He leaned against the counter, watching me. "You're actually going to cook right now?"

"Clearly."

Silence stretched between us as I moved around my small kitchen, my hands moving on autopilot. I could feel his gaze burning into me, but I ignored him.

After a while, he exhaled sharply. "I don't like this."

I glanced at him. "No one's asking you to."

"This whole arrangement." His jaw tightened. "It's a farce."

I shrugged. "Most marriages are."

His gaze snapped to mine, and for the first time since he'd arrived, I saw something other than cold amusement in his eyes. Something deeper. But before I could place it, he smirked again, his default setting.

"Well, if we're going to pretend," he said smoothly, "we might as well make it fun."

I stilled, knife hovering over the cutting board. "Fun?"

His smirk widened. "You know, push each other's limits. See who breaks first."

I met his gaze, unfazed. "Careful, Abhiraj." I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You might not like what happens if you lose."

His smirk faltered-just a fraction.

And just like that, I knew.

I had already won.