The next day, Shubman's car pulled up outside the apartment Kinjal shared with Vayra. He was more nervous than he cared to admit, but he masked it with impatience as he rang the doorbell repeatedly, his finger jabbing the button as if it could somehow ease his anxiety.

The door swung open, revealing an annoyed Vayra. She had her arms crossed, clearly ready to scold whoever was disrupting her morning. But before she could get a word out, Shubman brushed past her, muttering, "Where's Kinjal?"

"Excuse me, good morning to you too?" Vayra called after him, but Shubman was already heading toward Kinjal's room.

Inside, Kinjal was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her hands busy crocheting a soft lavender scarf. Her head snapped up, startled, as Shubman barged in. "Shubman? What are you doing here so early?"

He didn't answer right away, pacing the room as if trying to find the right words. Kinjal blinked, setting her crochet work aside. "Okay, what's going on?"

Outside the room, Vayra lingered by the door, eavesdropping with a mix of curiosity and irritation. She'd planned a bestie day with Kinjal, and Shubman's unexpected arrival was not part of her schedule. "This guy," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head before walking away to give them some privacy.

Back in the room, Shubman finally stopped pacing and faced Kinjal, his expression serious. "We have a problem. My parents... they're very, very serious about this marriage thing."

Kinjal's face fell. "What? Already? I thought we had time!"

"Yeah, me too!" Shubman said, throwing his hands in the air. "But no, they've decided it's time to meet your family and start the discussions. I tried to argue, but you know how my dad is. It's happening, Kinjal. We need to figure this out."

Kinjal groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Shubman, no. This isn't going to work. My parents will never approve. You're Punjabi. I'm Gujarati. Do you even understand the kind of drama that will unfold if they meet your family?"

Shubman frowned, his voice softening. "Kinjal, we've been through so much already. Why does it matter? I love you. You love me. Isn't that enough?"

She sighed, looking away. "You don't get it. My parents are traditional, Shubman. They've always wanted me to marry within our caste. They'll think I've lost my mind if I even bring up the idea of us. And then there's the whole cultural difference-Punjabi vs. Gujarati? That's like setting the stage for World War III."

Shubman sat down on the edge of her bed, his frustration evident. "Kinjal, do you really think our love isn't strong enough to handle this? I mean, yeah, it's not going to be easy, but I'm willing to fight for us. Are you?"

She bit her lip, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. "It's not about me, Shubman. I want to be with you, but I also don't want to tear my family apart. You haven't met them yet. You don't know how they are."

"Then let me meet them," he said firmly.

Kinjal's eyes widened. "What? Are you crazy? That's not going to help!"

"Yes, it will," Shubman insisted. "If they see how much I care about you, how much I respect you and your family, maybe they'll understand. Maybe they'll see that I'm not just some random guy. I'm serious about you, Kinjal."

She stared at him, torn between fear and hope. "And what if they don't? What if they still say no? What if this just makes everything worse?"

Shubman reached for her hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "Then we'll figure it out together. But I can't just sit back and let fear decide our future. We deserve a chance, Kinjal. Don't you think?"

Her eyes welled up with tears, and she nodded slowly. "Okay," she whispered. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"Anything," he said, his voice unwavering.

"If this goes wrong," she said, her voice trembling, "you'll walk away. You won't fight with them. You'll let it go."

Shubman's heart clenched at the thought, but he nodded. "I promise."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over them. Then, Kinjal broke the silence with a small, nervous laugh. "You're really stubborn, you know that?"

He grinned, squeezing her hand. "And you love it."

Despite the uncertainty ahead, they both felt a renewed sense of determination. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

----------

As soon as Shubman left, Kinjal let out a long, shaky sigh and reached for a glass of water. Her hands were slightly trembling as she gulped it down, trying to calm the storm inside her. The weight of the conversation, the expectations, and the inevitable confrontation with her parents pressed heavily on her chest.

Just then, Vayra walked in, concern written all over her face. "Okay, what the hell just happened? Shubman looked way too serious, and you look like you just saw a ghost."

Kinjal placed the empty glass down and leaned against the kitchen counter, rubbing her temples. "It's bad, Vayra. Really bad."

Vayra crossed her arms. "Define bad."

Kinjal took a deep breath before speaking. "His parents want to meet mine. They're serious about our marriage. Like, not in a future kind of way but in a let's finalize this now kind of way."

Vayra's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Wow. Okay... and?"

Kinjal hesitated before answering. "And my parents... they will never allow it. I just never told anyone because I didn't want to deal with it. But they've always been clear-painfully clear-about what kind of guy they want for me."

Vayra frowned. "Wait, you mean the whole 'Gujarati, high caste, rich, fluent in Gujarati' thing?"

Kinjal nodded miserably. "Yeah. That's their checklist, and Shubman doesn't fit into it, no matter how amazing he is. They've already rejected boys just because their Gujarati wasn't perfect. And even though Shubman is literally the captain of Gujarat Titans and does understand some Gujarati, it's not enough. He's not enough for them."

Vayra's expression darkened. "That's ridiculous. You're telling me they'd rather push you into an arranged marriage with some random guy just because he speaks Gujarati fluently?"

Kinjal swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I tell them about Shubman, they won't just reject him... they'll make my life hell. They'll try to guilt-trip me, manipulate me, and if that doesn't work... they'll force me into a marriage within days."

Vayra's fists clenched. "This is insane. What are you going to do?"

Kinjal exhaled sharply. "I don't know, Vayra. I really don't. I love Shubman, but if I even mention marriage to my parents, they'll see it as betrayal. And if I go against them, they won't just cut me off-they'll forcefully get me married to someone else. It won't even matter what I want."

Vayra placed a comforting hand on Kinjal's shoulder. "Hey, listen to me. We'll figure this out. You're not alone in this, okay?"

Kinjal looked at her best friend, eyes filled with uncertainty. "I just don't know how to fight them, Vayra. And I don't know if I have the strength to."

Vayra's jaw tightened. "Then I'll fight for you."

Tears welled up in Kinjal's eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. "I just wish things were easier."

Vayra sighed. "Me too, Kinjal. Me too."

The two best friends sat in silence for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken fears. They both knew this wasn't going to be easy. But one thing was certain-Kinjal was running out of time, and a storm was coming.