Vihaan Malhotra leaned back in his leather chair, staring at the view outside his office window. The sprawling skyline of Mumbai stretched out before him, bustling with life, but Vihaan barely noticed it. His desk was cluttered with documents and files, each one requiring his attention, but his focus had drifted.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated by the conversation he'd just had with his father, Dev Malhotra.
"Marriage?" Vihaan muttered to himself, his tone dripping with disdain. He turned in his chair, the sleek fabric creaking slightly under his weight, and glanced at the whiskey glass sitting untouched on his desk. "As if I have time for that nonsense."
At 29, Vihaan had spent the past decade building Malhotra Enterprises into a powerhouse. He had everything a man could dream of: wealth, power, and a reputation for being uncompromising. People respected himâor feared himâand that was exactly how he liked it. But the one thing Vihaan despised more than anything else was being told what to do.
His fatherâs words echoed in his mind. "Vihaan, Iâve waited long enough. This isnât just about you; itâs about family. Rajesh Sharma and I made this promise years ago, and I intend to see it through."
Vihaan had scoffed at the time, rolling his eyes as his father went on about tradition. Tradition didnât mean anything to him. It was a word people used to justify outdated ideas. Vihaan valued control, logic, and efficiencyânone of which, in his opinion, marriage guaranteed.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through his calendar. Every minute of his day was accounted for: meetings with investors, strategy discussions, and late-night conference calls with international clients. Where was the time for a wife in all this? And more importantly, why would he want to tether himself to someone when he thrived in solitude?
Vihaan wasnât a man who believed in love. To him, relationships were distractionsâemotional liabilities that clouded judgment. He had watched people crumble under the weight of their attachments, and he had no intention of becoming one of them.
âVihaan,â came a voice from his office door. His secretary, Meera, poked her head in hesitantly. âYour fatherâs here to see you.â
Vihaanâs jaw tightened. He didnât need to guess what this was about. âSend him in,â he said curtly, straightening his posture and masking his irritation.
Dev Malhotra entered the room with the air of a man who knew he would get his way. Though his hair was streaked with gray, he carried himself with authority that mirrored his sonâs. He sat across from Vihaan, his expression firm but not unkind.
âYouâve been avoiding my calls,â Dev began, cutting straight to the point.
âIâve been busy,â Vihaan replied flatly, folding his arms. âWhat do you want, Dad?â
âYou know what I want,â Dev said, leaning forward. âItâs time, Vihaan. Time for you to fulfill the promise I made to Rajesh. Aarohi is a good girl, from a good family. This marriage will be good for you.â
Vihaan let out a humorless laugh. âGood for me? Since when do you decide whatâs good for me? I built this empire with my own hands. I make my own decisions.â
Devâs expression darkened. âYou think youâre untouchable, donât you? But no matter how powerful you become, youâre still my son. And as your father, Iâm telling youâthis isnât a negotiation. Youâll meet Aarohi after she graduates, and youâll give this arrangement a chance.â
Vihaanâs eyes narrowed. He hated being cornered, and his father knew it. âAnd what if I donât?â he challenged.
Dev stood up, his voice calm but firm. âYou will, Vihaan. Because deep down, you know family matters more than anything else. Donât forget where you came from.â
With that, Dev walked out, leaving Vihaan alone in his office, seething.
Vihaan clenched his fists, his mind racing. He couldnât fathom marrying someone he didnât know, someone who would disrupt the carefully constructed order of his life. But the decision wasnât entirely his anymore. For the first time in years, Vihaan felt the uncomfortable weight of expectations pressing down on him.
And he hated it.