Chapter 5

It was a quiet evening, the kind I usually spent reading in my room after a long day of teaching. Grandfather called me to the living room, his expression serious but kind, and I immediately knew something was on his mind.

"Tara, sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

"What is it, Dadaji?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

He hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the edge of his shawl. "I've made a decision about your future. One that I hope you'll understand, even if it feels sudden."

My heart sank. Decisions about my future always meant conversations about marriage, usually involving my uncle and aunt's terrible suggestions. "Dadaji, if this is about Sameer—"

"It's not about him," he interrupted, his voice firm. "I would never let you marry someone like that."

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. He continued, "There's someone I've spoken to. Someone who could offer you a better life. His name is Veeranshu Mehra."

I blinked at him, trying to place the name. "Veeranshu Mehra? As in the Veeranshu Mehra? The businessman?"

"Yes," he said, watching my reaction closely.

I stared at him, stunned. "You want me to marry a stranger? Someone I've never met?"

"He's not just a stranger, Tara," Dadaji said gently. "He's a man I trust. A man who can protect you, offer you stability, and ensure that you're never at the mercy of your uncle and aunt again."

"But why would someone like him agree to marry me?" I asked, my voice rising. "What's in it for him?"

Dadaji sighed, his eyes softening. "I offered him something he needs—land for one of his projects. But this isn't just a business deal. I believe he's a good man, and he's agreed to this because he understands the value of family. He knows how important it is to me that you're safe."

I shook my head, trying to process everything. "Dadaji, this is too much. You're asking me to marry a man I've never even spoken to."

"I know it's a lot to ask," he said, reaching for my hand. "But please, Tara. Trust me on this. You deserve a better life than the one you have now. And I believe Veeranshu can give you that."

His words hung in the air, and for a long moment, I didn't respond. Deep down, I knew he wanted what was best for me, but the idea of marrying someone like Veeranshu Mehra—a man whose name I only knew from the news—felt overwhelming.

Later that night, after the call with Veeranshu, curiosity got the better of me. I sat down with my laptop and typed his name into the search bar. The results were staggering.

Veeranshu Mehra was everywhere—articles about his business empire, interviews about his ventures, and glowing profiles in business magazines. His name was synonymous with power and ambition.

But what caught my attention were the glimpses of his personal life—or rather, the lack thereof. The famous Mehra's had died in a car accident when he was just a child, leaving him their fortune. Beyond that, there was almost nothing—no scandals, no controversies, no rumors of relationships. Just an impenetrable wall of professionalism.

The people who spoke about him described him as shrewd, calculating, and ruthless in the business world. It painted a stark picture of a man who seemed untouchable, a man who had built his life on control and power.

I closed my laptop, my mind racing. This was the man I was supposed to marry?

The next evening, I arrived at the café wearing a simple white kurti and palazzo set, my hair left open to frame my face. It wasn't glamorous, but it was me. I didn't want to pretend to be someone I wasn't.

When I stepped inside, I saw him immediately. He sat at a corner table, his posture straight and his expression unreadable. He looked exactly as I'd imagined—tall, impeccably dressed, and exuding an aura of quiet authority.

As I approached, he stood, offering a polite nod. "Tara Gupta, I presume."

"Yes," I said, sitting down opposite him. "And you must be Mr. Mehra."

"Veer," he corrected. "No need for formalities."

There was a moment of silence as we studied each other, both trying to gauge the person sitting across the table.

"I'll be honest," I began, deciding to address the elephant in the room. "This situation is... unconventional. But I agreed to meet because I trust my grandfather."

"I understand," he said, his tone calm. "I'm here for the same reason. Your grandfather has placed his trust in me, and I won't take that lightly."

I nodded, appreciating his directness. "But there are things I need to be clear about before we proceed. First, I won't leave my job after marriage. Teaching is not just my livelihood; it's my passion."

"I have no intention of asking you to leave your job," he replied without hesitation.

His response surprised me, but I continued. "Second, I know that your life involves a lot of public appearances—parties, business dinners, and so on. That's not something I'm used to. It'll take me time to adjust."

"There's no pressure," he said. "If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to attend. That's entirely your choice."

I hesitated, considering his words. "I appreciate that. But I know that after marriage, my actions will reflect on you, whether I like it or not. So, I'll attend events where my presence is necessary. But I'd prefer to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible."

"That's reasonable," he said with a nod. "Your privacy is your right."

"One more thing," I added, meeting his gaze. "I don't want the world to know about this marriage—at least not right away. I'd prefer to keep my identity as your wife private."

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn't argue. "That's fair. The media doesn't need to know everything about my life."

The waiter came to take our order, and Veer chose a non-vegetarian dish while I opted for a vegetarian one.

"You're vegetarian?" he asked, noting my order.

"Strict vegetarian," I clarified. "I hope that won't be a problem."

"Not at all," he said, his tone neutral.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that—our daily routines, our interests, and the things we valued in life. Despite my initial apprehension, I found myself relaxing as the evening went on. Veer was not the cold, detached businessman the articles had made him out to be. He was thoughtful, respectful, and far more approachable than I'd expected.

By the end of the meal, I realized that while this marriage might not have been what I'd imagined for myself, it wasn't something I dreaded anymore.

As we parted ways outside the café, Veer extended his hand. "Thank you for meeting me, Tara. I hope this is the beginning of something... workable."

I shook his hand, a small smile playing on my lips. "I hope so too, Veer."

As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this arrangement could lead to something more than just a business deal.

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