The car ride to Udaipur the next morning felt heavier than it should. Despite my effort to focus on the landscape outside, Dadi's earlier determination played on repeat in my head.
Her words about "commitment and compromise" grated on my nerves. I wasn't one to back down, but with her, it was like arguing with a mountainâimmovable and indifferent.
"Devansh, stop fidgeting," Dadi snapped from the seat beside me, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"I'm not fidgeting," I muttered, turning to look at her.
"You've been bouncing your knee since we left," she said, her sharp eyes narrowing at me. "It's a bad habit. You'll scare the girl before you even meet her."
I scoffed, leaning back in the seat. "Maybe that's for the best. If she runs away, we won't have to go through with this circus."
She didn't laugh. Instead, gave me that signature glare that could silence anyone in the family.
"Stop being dramatic," she said firmly. "Krutika is a lovely girl. You'll see."
I didn't respond. What was the point? Dadi wasn't the kind of woman to change her mind once she had decided something.
Still, I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of curiosity and dread about meeting this girlâKrutika Thakur.
When we arrived at the Thakur residence, my jaw nearly dropped. Their mansion was massive, even by Jodhpur standards. Intricate carvings adorned the towering gates, and the lush greenery spilling over the walls gave it an almost ethereal charm.
It was clear the Thakurs weren't just "respected." They were wealthy, influential, and deeply rooted in tradition.
The driver stopped the car, and a servant immediately opened the door for Dadi. She stepped out gracefully, her sharp eyes scanning the entrance before turning to me.
"Behave," she said in a low tone, her gaze stern.
I rolled my eyes but nodded.
Inside, the Thakurs welcomed us with a level of hospitality that was almost overwhelming. Mr. Thakur, a broad-shouldered man with a booming voice, greeted Dadi. Beside him stood Mrs. Thakur, elegant and poised, her kind smile immediately softening the tension in the air.
And then there was Krutika.
I didn't see her at first, hidden as she was behind her parents. But when Mrs. Thakur stepped aside and gestured to her daughter, my entire body stiffened.
It was her.
Krutika Thakur wasn't just some stranger. She was my student.
She looked different outside the classroom, though. Gone was the casual confidence she usually carried at college. Here, she seemed smaller, quieter, like a child being pushed into a situation she didn't understand.
"Namaste," she said softly.
"Namaste," I replied automatically, my mind still reeling.
"This is Devansh," Dadi said, gesturing to me with a proud smile. "He's one of the most brilliant minds at IIT Bombay. And, of course, my grandson."
Krutika nodded, her gaze flitting to me briefly before dropping to the floor.
"I've heard a lot about you," she said, her tone polite but distant.
I raised an eyebrow. "Really? I can't say the same."
Dadi's sharp elbow jabbed into my side, but I didn't care. This was ridiculous. How has no one mentioned this before?
Mrs. Thakur must have sensed the tension because she clapped her hands together. "Why don't we sit? We've prepared some tea and snacks."
Dadi nodded approvingly, and everyone moved toward the sitting area. I stayed back for a moment, watching Krutika as she walked ahead with her parents. She still hadn't looked me in the eye.
The conversation was excruciating. Dadi and the Thakurs were deep in discussion about family histories, cultural values, and wedding traditions. I sat silently, sipping my tea and trying not to glare at anyone.
Krutika was seated across from me, her posture stiff and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She hadn't said much, only chiming in when her parents prompted her.
Finally, Dadi turned to me with an expectant look.
"Devansh, why don't you take Krutika outside for a while? Get to know each other."
I stared at her, my irritation barely concealed. "What, like a playdate?"
"Devansh." she said warningly.
I sighed and stood up. "Fine. Let's go."
Krutika hesitated for a moment before rising to her feet. Together, we walked out into the garden, leaving the adults behind.
The garden was beautiful, filled with vibrant flowers and shaded by sprawling trees. A stone pathway wound its way through the greenery, leading to a small gazebo in the center.
We walked in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the crunch of gravel under our feet.
"So," I said finally, breaking the awkwardness. "This is...unexpected."
She glanced at me, her expression cautious. "You think?"
I stopped walking and turned to face her. "Why didn't you say anything? In class, I mean."
Her eyes widened. "What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, Professor, I think our families are planning to marry us off'?"
I frowned. "You could've at least hinted at it."
"I didn't know either!" she said, throwing up her hands. "My parents only told me yesterday."
I studied her for a moment, trying to gauge her sincerity. She looked genuinely flustered, her cheeks slightly flushed.
"This is insane," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.
She nodded. "Tell me about it."
We reached the gazebo and sat down on the stone bench inside. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"You don't seem thrilled about this," I said finally.
She let out a short laugh. "And you do?"
I smirked. "Fair point."
Silence fell again, but this time it was less tense. I found myself studying her, noting the subtle differences between the Krutika I knew in class and the one sitting beside me now.
In class, she was focused, articulate, and, admittedly, a little intimidating. Here, she seemed...human.
"What are you thinking?" she asked suddenly, breaking my train of thought.
I hesitated before replying. "I'm thinking this is probably a mistake."
Her eyes darkened slightly, but she didn't look surprised.
"I mean, we barely know each other," I continued. "And whatever happens, I just want to make one thing clear."
She tilted her head, waiting for me to continue.
"This isn't going to be some fairytale romance," I said firmly. "If we go through with this, it's just an arrangement. Don't expect anything more from me."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue.
"Fine," she said after a moment. "But don't expect me to sit around like some obedient wife either. I have my own life, and I don't plan on giving it up for anyoneânot even you."
I raised an eyebrow, impressed despite myself. "Fair enough."
We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation settling between us.
When we returned to the sitting room, Dadi's eyes lit up. "How was it?" she asked, her tone hopeful.
"It was...fine," I said noncommittally.
Krutika nodded, echoing my sentiment. "Fine."
Dadi didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't press the issue.
The rest of the visit passed in a blur of forced pleasantries and thinly veiled questions about compatibility. By the time we left, I was thoroughly exhausted.
That night, as I lay in bed at the haveli, I couldn't stop thinking about Krutika.
She was nothing like I'd expectedânot that I knew what to expect in the first place. She was strong-willed, intelligent, and, if I was being honest, a little stubborn.
And yet, despite everything, I couldn't shake the feeling that this arrangement might not be as disastrous as I'd initially thought.
But then again, feelings could be deceiving.