Thanking you all for the birthday wishes, I really appreciate it ðð you guys are the best ðð¹
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A loud, carefree laugh echoed through Arjun's luxurious living room, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings.
Arjun, seated stiffly on the leather couch, fixed a deadly glare on Karan, who was doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. Siddhartha sat opposite them, his lips curled into a teasing smirk.
"If you wake Meera up, Karan, I swear I'll put a bullet through your thigh." Arjun warned coldly, his voice low and dangerous. But Karan, wiping tears from his eyes, only laughed harder.
"You can't blame him" Siddhartha chimed in, his smirk deepening. "Hearing you say this... it's funny as hell."
Arjun's patience thinned, his voice cutting, "Are you idiots going to help, or are you just here to make me regret asking you?"
Karan, his laughter finally subsiding, grinned wide.
"Boss, forgive me. It's just... this is something I've never seen from you. Desperate. Soft." His eyes gleamed with amusement. "But don't worry-you came to the right duo. Siddhartha and I will give you every tip you need to get Meera falling for you."
Arjun exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe this was a bad idea..."
Karan chuckled, leaning back with a playful glint in his eyes. "Bad idea? No way! This is the best thing ever. Besides..." His grin sharpened. "A desperate man finally listening to me for once? I'll savor every second." and yet again laughed
Arjun's eyes darkened, a warning in his tone. "Wake her up, Karan, and I swear I'll kill you and bury you in my yard."
Karan threw up his hands, still grinning. "Okay, okay! Don't shoot me. It's just...you, Arjun Madhav -cold, ruthless, feared-looking for love advice?" He paused, smirking wider. "That's comedy gold."
"Enough." Siddhartha's calm but firm voice cut through. "Karan, stop teasing. My brother needs help, not mockery." He turned to Arjun with a knowing look. "Let's get serious."
Arjun, his jaw tight, gave a curt nod. "At least one of you knows how to be useful."
Karan's laughter faded to a mischievous grin. "Alright, alright. No more jokes. Let's teach you how to win Meera's heart."
Siddhartha leaned forward, his voice steady and thoughtful. "First and most important-be a gentleman."
Arjun raised a brow, unimpressed. "I am a gentleman."
Karan immediately snorted, his lips twitching as he fought back laughter.
"You? A gentleman?" His shoulders shook as he clamped a hand over his mouth, barely containing himself under Arjun's sharp glare.
"Bhai," Siddhartha sighed with amusement, "we both know you're not. At least, not in the way Meera would want."
Arjun's eyes narrowed. "Then enlighten me."
Siddhartha's expression turned serious. "Meera's a strong woman-intelligent, independent. She's not the type to be swayed by power, money, or grand gestures. She values something real-being treated with respect, softness... kindness. And Arjun..." He paused meaningfully, "Kindness and niceness aren't the same thing."
Arjun's brow furrowed. "Explain."
Siddhartha smiled faintly. "Niceness is surface-level. Polite words, empty gestures. But kindness? It's about actions. Showing her you care, even without saying it. It means listening to her, protecting her heart-not just her life."
Arjun's sharp features softened slightly as he absorbed every word.
"And more than anything," Siddhartha continued, "Meera values time and experiences. She's someone who cherishes memories-walks under the stars, heartfelt conversations, simple moments that mean everything."
Arjun's lips pressed into a thin line, his mind racing. "So, you're telling me I need to be... soft?"
Karan cut in, grinning devilishly. "No, boss. You need to be the opposite of you."
Arjun's eyes flashed dangerously. "What the hell does that mean?"
Karan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "It means Meera loves men who are gentle, caring, and not... well... you. She likes a man who listens, who isn't controlling or possessive. And you, my friend..." He leaned back with a smirk, "...are the human definition of a red flag. Obsessive, possessive, temperamental. If you want her to love you, you'll need to rewrite the entire 'Arjun manual.'"
"
Arjun's jaw tensed. "You're testing me, Karan."
Karan grinned wider. "Just telling you the truth."
Siddhartha chuckled softly. "To be fair, Karan's not wrong. But Bhai..." His voice dropped to something more sincere. "You don't need to change who you are. Meera will see through that. What you need... is to show her the man you are underneath all the darkness. The man capable of love. The man I know."
Arjun's gaze flicked to his brother, something raw flashing in his eyes-vulnerability, perhaps.
"I'll make her love me." Arjun murmured, his voice low, determined. "Not with lies. Not with games. But with me."
Karan gave a lopsided grin. "Now that... is a plan I'd bet on."
Siddhartha smiled softly. "Then let's get to work."
Arjun leaned back on the couch, "Well, thanks to you, Siddhartha." he said with a rare, almost genuine softness in his voice.
Siddhartha smiled knowingly. "Anytime, Bhai. Just... don't screw it up."
Karan, still wearing that playful smirk, stretched and stood. "Yeah, boss. If you crash and burn, don't say we didn't warn you."
Arjun shot him a look. "Get out before I change my mind about sparing your life tonight."
With a chuckle, Karan gave a mock salute. "Good luck, Loverboy."
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the place heavy with silence.
Arjun exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing across his phone screen.
His reflection stared back at him-a man who had the world at his feet, but not the one thing he wanted most.
Meera.
With a determined grunt, he opened the browser and typed into the search bar:
How to not be myself.
The results flashed on the screen: '7 Steps to Changing Your Behavior.' 'Breaking Toxic Traits' 'The Art of Self-Improvement.'
His brows furrowed deeply. "The hell..." he muttered.
He clicked on one result and skimmed through quickly:
- Observe your habits and responses.
- Act intentionally different from your usual behavior.
- Listen more, talk less.
- Prioritize empathy over pride.
Arjun's eyes narrowed. "So... what, I have to become some saint?" he muttered, disgusted.
He scrolled further, pausing at a bold heading:
'What Women Value Most in a Man: Kindness, Patience, and Genuine Care.'
He read further and furrowed his brows at one article he saw.
His lips pressed into a tight line.
"So... girls love food?" he questioned aloud, his voice dripping with disbelief. The concept felt foreign, unnatural-wrong.
His gaze flicked upstairs. A softness briefly flickered across his eyes before he squared his shoulders.
"Fine." he muttered. "Let's give it a damn try."
With resolve hardening his jaw, he shoved his phone into his pocket and headed straight to the kitchen.
The kitchen-modern, sleek, and barely touched. It felt unfamiliar under his hands. Arjun rarely stepped foot here-he had chefs for that. But tonight? Tonight was different.
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing those strong, veined forearms, and scanned the cabinets. "Breakfast." he decided. "Simple enough."
Basic. Quick. that's what he thought
Meanwhile...
Meera stirred, a soft groan slipping from her lips as a dull ache throbbed in her head.
Her lashes fluttered open, and the unfamiliar sight of a massive, elegant bedroom met her bleary gaze. Confusion crashed into her chest, and her body tensed.
Her breath hitched as she bolted upright, the silk sheets pooling around her waist.
Where... where am I? Panic coiled in her stomach, her heart thundering against her ribs. The last thing she remembered-the gift... thanking him... and then...
Her pulse quickened. Arjun.
Her wide eyes darted around the room-His Room. Her throat went dry, and her fingers clutched the sheets tightly as fear crept up her spine.
"What the hell..." she whispered, her voice barely audible through the pounding in her ears. She felt trapped- Her mind raced with questions, with dread.
Did he-? No...he didn't...She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the rising panic.
Then-Clatter!
The sudden noise made her flinch, her head snapping toward the doorway. She froze, her heart racing wildly. Voices. The distant sounds of the kitchen.
Swallowing her fear, Meera slid her legs off the bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor, panic driving her forward. Her steps were slow, cautious, every creak of the floorboard tightening the knot in her chest.
Her mind screamed questions, but the clatter came again, and curiosity-mixed with dread-pulled her forward.
Slow, measured steps. Each creak of the polished floorboards felt deafening. She reached the top of the staircase, her fingers gripping the railing tightly.
And there-
The sight before her froze her in place.
In the grand, open kitchen, Arjun stood, his broad figure towering over the counter. But this wasn't the man she expected.
A chaos of spices and ingredients surrounded him-masala smeared on his shirt cuff, rice spilled across the counter, and a pressure cooker releasing angry puffs of steam in the background.
Beside it, a tawa hissed with something that looked like a poor attempt at parathas-charred at the edges and stubbornly stuck to the pan.
Arjun's brows were furrowed deeply as he wrestled with the dough, his fingers dusted in flour.
A frustrated growl rumbled from his chest as he pulled his hand back, glaring at the sticky mess clinging to his palm.
"Damn it!" Arjun growled lowly, wiping his hand with a dish towel, his jaw tight, his movements stiff with frustration.
Meera stood frozen-confused, stunned... and somewhere, beneath the panic, utterly bewildered.
Arjun? In a kitchen?
This was the same man who had dragged her into his world without mercy-ruthless, cold, untouchable. And here he was-battling dough and masala like his life depended on it.
The smell of burnt ghee hung in the air, and the cooker let out another angry whistle-like it was ready to explode.
And then-
"What... are you doing?"
At the sound of her voice, Arjun's head snapped up instantly. His hard gaze collided with hers, and for a heartbeat, the room froze.
The tension was thick-like the air itself held its breath.
But then-his eyes-The hardness flickered-briefly-into something else. Something... softer.
"Meera." he said, his voice deep, rough... but laced with something unspoken.
"Oh my God!" Meera gasped, her eyes wide as she rushed forward and turned off the gas. The pressure cooker hissed one last time before falling silent, the chaos in the kitchen settling into a tense, heavy stillness.
The smell of burnt spices lingered in the air, and the countertop was a battlefield-flour dusted everywhere, half-kneaded dough sprawled like a defeated soldier, and a plate of something that might have been parathas, if parathas were supposed to be blackened and crisp like charcoal.
Slowly, Meera turned to face the culprit.
Arjun stood there-utterly disheveled. Flour smeared across his cheekbone, a streak on his nose, and his hair slightly ruffled as if he had run his hands through it in frustration. For the first time, he looked... ridiculous.
Her brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief.
"What... are you doing?" she demanded, her voice sharp, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.
For a split second, something rare flashed in Arjun's eyes-hesitation. He rubbed the back of his neck, a bit of flour falling from his fingertips.
"Trying to... make breakfast for you." he muttered, his voice unusually gruff, as though embarrassed by the admission.
Her frown deepened. "Breakfast?"
The tension in her chest spiked. Her pulse hammered with more than just confusion-anger, unease, and the undeniable wrongness of the entire situation clawed at her.
"Why am I here?" she demanded, her voice cold and sharp as glass. "Why did I wake up in your house?"
Arjun's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze flickering to hers. He opened his mouth to explain, but Meera didn't wait for his excuses.
"That drink... it was drugged, wasn't it?" she snapped, her voice tight with barely contained fury. A tense silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.
Arjun met her eyes without flinching, his small smile replaced by something rawer-something dangerous in its honesty.
"...Yes." His voice was low but steady. "I won't lie to you. It was."
Meera's chest constricted, her breath catching as shock and betrayal slammed into her like a wave.
"You-" She gasped, her voice trembling with fury. "You drugged me?!"
"I-"
"How dare you!" she exploded, her face flushing with heat as her eyes burned with rage.
"I trusted that nothing would happen! My parents-my parents are probably worried sick!" Her voice cracked with emotion.
She spun on her heel to leave, her steps quick and determined-
But Arjun moved faster.
His arm wrapped around her waist in a firm, unyielding grip, pulling her back against his chest.
The heat of his body pressed into hers, his scent-smoky and warm-enveloping her.
"Arjun!" she hissed, her voice low and seething.
But his lips dipped close to her ear, and his voice, deep and rich, sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"If making you angry lets me see how adorably feisty you are." he murmured, his tone a velvet purr, "then maybe I should do it more often."
Her breath hitched, her heart a wild drumbeat in her chest.
"Let. Me. Go." she bit out, every word laced with venom.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk she couldn't see but felt against her skin.
"And if I don't?" he teased. "What will you do?"
Meera's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'll kill you." she snapped without hesitation.
Arjun chuckled softly-a deep, throaty sound that rumbled from his chest and vibrated against her back.
"Cute" he murmured.
Then, to her utter shock, he leaned in and pressed a fleeting, feather-light kiss to the tip of her nose.
Meera froze. Her lips parted in stunned silence, her cheeks burning with heat from the sudden, intimate gesture.
And just like that-
He released her.
She stumbled a step, her eyes wide, her heart pounding violently.
Arjun stood before her, his arms crossed lazily over his chest, his smirk firmly in place as if he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down.
"Relax." he said, his voice casual but his eyes still holding that glint-dark, intense, and utterly consuming. "Before you yell at me more..."
Meera's glare sharpened.
"...I already spoke to your parents." he added smoothly.
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
Arjun's smirk deepened. "They know you're here. I told them you were safe. So..." He spread his arms in mock triumph. "See? I am a kind person."
Meera's eyes burned into his, her fists clenching by her sides.
Her voice, low and seething, sliced through the air.
"You..." she said, her tone dripping with disbelief, "...are impossible."
Arjun only chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving hers.
"And you," he replied, his voice a promise, dark and sure, "are mine."
"I'm going home." Meera snapped, spinning on her heel, her voice firm with finality.
Arjun, leaning casually against the counter, his arms folded, tilted his head.
"Won't you have breakfast?" he called after her, a teasing lilt in his tone.
Meera halted, her gaze sweeping over the disaster zone he called a kitchen-flour on every surface, pots stacked haphazardly, and something suspiciously burnt still smoking on the stove.
Slowly, she turned back to him, one brow arched high.
The look on her face said it all: Are you serious?
"You drugged me yesterday," she said flatly, her voice cold and biting. "I haven't even begun to forgive you for that. And now you expect me to eat something you made? What if I die from food poisoning?" Her lips curled in distaste. "No, thanks."
Arjun, unfazed by her sharp tongue, smirked. "Have you ever cooked before?" she asked, crossing her arms, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Arjun straightened, his chest puffing out slightly, his smirk deepening.
"Why should I?" he replied, as if the answer was obvious. "I'm a man. I don't need to cook. I'll be marrying you soon anyway."
Meera's eyes flew wide open, her entire body stiffening. "Excuse me?" she choked, the shock slicing through her anger. "Marrying me?!"
"We'll come back to that later." she hissed, her cheeks burning from the audacity of his statement. "But-hold up-you can't cook? How the hell do you even survive here, living alone?"
Arjun's expression shifted into something that almost resembled pride, as if his answer was meant to impress her.
"I have a personal chef." he said with a careless wave of his hand. "They come here four times a week. And when I'm at the other mansion with Siddhartha, we have cooks there. On the days my chef isn't here..." He gave a lazy, arrogant shrug. "I eat from the best restaurants in the city."
He said it as if it were the most natural, reasonable thing in the world.
Meera's stare hardened, her voice dripping with disbelief. "So, what, if you do get a wife, you'll expect her to cook and clean for you every day while you sit back and enjoy?"
Arjun's brows shot up, and he quickly shook his head. "No, no." he corrected, his tone surprisingly earnest. "You'd be my queen. You wouldn't be doing chores."
He took a step closer, his voice lowering, laced with conviction.
"But my queen should cook my meals because... she's my wife. The home should be filled with her warmth. Everything else? The housework, the cleaning-I'll hire an army of maids if you want. You can have as many as you wish. You'll never lift a finger for anything you don't want to do."
His eyes, intense and burning with something possessive, held hers, as if daring her to challenge his logic.
Meera, however, scoffed softly under her breath, breaking the heavy tension.
"How generous." she said sarcastically, looking away from him. His words, his intensity-they made her heart pound, and she hated it.
A sudden wave of discomfort hit her, and she cleared her throat, turning abruptly.
"Um... I should go now." she mumbled, her voice clipped as she headed for the kitchen door.
"Where is my phone?"
But Arjun's eyes followed her every step, his smirk curling back into place, slow and wolfish. Without hesitation, he pushed off from the counter and trailed after her.
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