Morning

Ridhima stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, droplets of water clinging to her skin. She was wrapped in a soft pink robe, her hands clutching the fabric a little tighter as she spotted Veer sitting comfortably on the bed, watching her.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you sitting here?"

Veer smirked. "Waiting for you."

Her brows furrowed. "Why?"

She adjusted her robe slightly, suddenly aware of how she looked—bare-faced, hair wet, skin still warm from the shower.

Veer caught the movement, his lips twitching as if he wanted to tease her but held back. Instead, he stood up and walked toward her, closing the distance between them.

His presence was intense.

"I also have to take a shower, Mrs. Arora," he murmured, his deep voice filled with amusement. "It's my room too, remember?"

Ridhima instinctively took a small step back, but Veer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice into a husky whisper against her ear—low, teasing, and filled with something she couldn't quite decipher.

"It's not like I need to wait, sweetheart... if I want something."

Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded.

What... what did he mean by that?

Before she could process or respond, Veer pulled back, his gaze locking with hers for just a second longer—dark, unreadable, intense.

Then, with a smirk, he walked past her toward the bathroom.

Ridhima exhaled sharply, realizing she had been holding her breath.

"What the hell was that?" she muttered under her breath, pressing a hand to her chest.

Her heart was still racing.

Ridhima sat in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the light pink saree draped elegantly over her frame. The soft fabric hugged her in all the right places, making her look every bit the newlywed bride.

Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the small silver box of sindoor.

She took a deep breath before applying it to her maang, watching as the bright red filled the parting of her hair. The color stood out against her fair skin, making everything feel more real than ever.

"It's just for show... it's just a deal," she reminded herself.

But the weight of the moment refused to leave her chest.

She slipped on her chooda (bridal bangles), the soft clinking sound filling the silence of the room. Her hands were already decorated with the faint stains of mehendi, a reminder of the grand wedding just the night before.

Taking one last look in the mirror, she straightened her posture, convincing herself to carry the role of Mrs. Veer Arora with confidence.

With that, she got up and made her way downstairs for breakfast.

Meanwhile...

Veer stepped out of the shower, a towel slung around his shoulders. Water droplets clung to his skin, sliding down his toned chest.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, sighing as he glanced at the time.

"She must have gone downstairs already," he thought, wrapping the towel around his waist and heading toward the wardrobe.

His eyes flickered to the mirror, catching a glimpse of the sindoor box on Ridhima's vanity table.

For a brief second, his mind flashed to the image of her wearing it.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. This was just a deal.

But then why did the sight of her as his wife affect him so much?

Breakfast at the Arora Mansion

Ridhima stood by the dining table, assisting her mother-in-law, Aarti Arora, in arranging the breakfast. Even though the house had a team of staff, Aarti had insisted on doing things herself, a tradition she believed brought the family together.

"Beta, you don't have to do all this," Aarti said softly, placing a hand on Ridhima's.

"It's okay, Maa," Ridhima responded, offering a small smile. "I want to help."

Just then, Mahendra Arora, her father-in-law, entered the room, his presence commanding yet warm.

"Jeeti raho, bahu," he said, placing his hand over her head in blessing. "I'm glad to see you taking responsibility already."

Ridhima nodded respectfully, her heart feeling a strange sense of warmth.

Veer's Entrance

Descending the grand staircase, Veer's gaze instantly landed on Ridhima.

She looked effortlessly graceful in her light pink saree, her sindoor perfectly applied, her bangles softly clinking as she moved. The way she blended into his family so easily made something tighten in his chest.

For a fleeting second, an impulsive thought crossed his mind—to walk up to her and wrap his arms around her.

But he forced himself to snap out of it.

"This is just a deal, Veer," he reminded himself, pushing down the strange emotions bubbling inside him.

He walked over to the table, pulling out a chair right next to Ridhima.

As he sat down, the faint scent of roses and jasmine from her perfume drifted toward him, making his grip tighten around his coffee mug.

The Big Announcement

Mahendra Arora cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention.

"Tonight is important." His voice was firm. "Your reception is not just about welcoming Ridhima into the family. It's a business event. The biggest businessmen, investors, and media will be attending."

Ridhima tensed.

Media?

Her heart raced at the thought of cameras flashing, reporters asking questions, people watching her every move.

Mahendra continued, "I expect you both to behave like the perfect couple."

Ridhima stiffened.

Only she and Veer knew the truth—that this marriage was just a deal. To everyone else, it was a grand love story.

Before she could say anything, Veer leaned back in his chair, his tone light yet firm.

"Don't worry, Dad. Ridhima and I will put on such a show that even the media will believe we're the best couple in the world."

Ridhima turned to him sharply, her eyes narrowing in disbelief.

He smirked, as if challenging her to prove him wrong.

Mahendra nodded, satisfied. "Good. I don't expect anything less."

As breakfast continued, Ridhima forced herself to eat, but deep down, she knew—

Tonight was going to be far more difficult than Veer made it seem.

A Crossed Fate—Once Again

After breakfast, Veer left for his office, while Ridhima prepared to go to hers.

As their cars pulled onto the main road, fate once again played its game.

Just like their first unexpected encounter, their vehicles crossed paths at the signal.

Ridhima, unaware of the moment's significance, sat calmly in the backseat, scrolling through emails.

But Veer?

He leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, as a smirk played on his lips.

His mind drifted back to the very first time he saw her—before their marriage, before this whole deal.

That day, she was just Ridhima Rajawat—a girl with fire in her eyes, standing at the same intersection, arguing with a street vendor over something trivial but with so much confidence that he couldn't look away.

And now?

She was Mrs. Ridhima Veer Arora.

His wife.

Even if just for four months.

Veer exhaled, shaking off the thought.

The light turned green, and their cars moved forward—heading in opposite directions, yet tied together in a way neither of them could escape.