Marriage. My mom’s ultimatum. This twisted pull I can’t seem to shake.All of it just tangled me up, and that’s exactly what pushed me to end up here.
I kill the engine and rest my head back against the seat, eyes closed, heart unsteady. I know I should be driving home instead of complicating things further. But I can’t. Like it or not, right now all I know is she’s the only damn thing that makes sense—the only one who can calm the chaos, even if she is the chaos itself.
With a resigned sigh, I push the door open and step out, heading straight for her café. Maybe talking to her will clear this mess of emotions, or make it worse. Either way, I’m done second-guessing. I’m not turning back. I need to see her. I need to talk to her, even though I don’t have a clue what I want to say.
The moment I walk through the door, my gaze drills straight into her. She’s sitting behind the counter, typing away on her laptop, completely absorbed in her work. Her dark hair is twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, giving her that effortlessly adorable vibe. She’s wearing a simple yellow dress, yet for some reason, it makes my body react in ways I can’t even begin to understand.
As I get closer, she finally looks up. That sweet, genuine smile fades and is replaced by a tight, almost forced one. Luckily, the café is empty, with no customers or staff around, giving me the rare peace to be here without anyone disturbing me.
“You’re back?” she groans, leaning back in her chair and shutting her laptop with a bang.
I shrug casually, hands in my jeans pockets, standing across from her at the counter. “I’m a paying customer. Isn’t that something you should be happy about rather than being grumpy about it?”
She raises an eyebrow, and fuck, she looks cute. “If I remember correctly, a paying customer who didn’t like his coffeelast time and also mentioned he wouldn’t step into a café that couldn’t even get his basic coffee right.” She leans forward, resting her hands on the counter, giving me her fake sweet smile that makes my blood hum in a way it hasn’t in years. “So, forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled to see you again.”
I mirror her actions, taking my hands out of my pockets and placing them on either side of hers, leaning in slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. “Well, I thought I’d give this place another shot. After all, everyone deserves a second chance.”
She pulls her hands back and straightens. “I’m not convinced you’re the type to believe in second chances. You seem more like the kind who writes people off the moment they make a mistake.”
I smirk, ignoring her sass. “You know, we still haven’t had a proper introduction. How about we start by exchanging names?” I extend my hand to her. “Hi, I’m Aditya.”
She looks down at my hand, then back at me, unimpressed. Folding her arms over her chest, she says flatly, “We don’t need to do any such thing. Last I checked, we aren’t friends.”
Smiling, I drop my hand and pull out a chair, settling into it without a care in the world, not wanting to end the conversation. I’m loving every bit of her feistiness. “Maybe not. But introductions seem like a good place to start.”
“I don’t see why it matters. But I’m not going to waste time arguing with you about it. It’s Sana,” she snaps. “Now that you know, you can leave.”
Grinning, I ignore her dismissal. “Nice to meet you, Sana. Though I was hoping for a warmer welcome.”
She deadpans. “And I was hoping for a quieter evening. Looks like neither of us is getting what we want.”
“Touché. You sure know how to use that sharp tongue.”
“Yeah, I’d rather keep it sharp than pretend to nice,” she retorts, smirking slightly. “You’d be surprised at how much it helps in dealing with people like you.”
“You definitely are one of a kind,” I reply, leaning back with a smirk of my own.
“Cut the crap and tell me why are you really here?” she demands, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re clearly not here for coffee.”
I pause for a heartbeat. Then, before I even realise what I’m doing, the words slip out of my mouth. “Can you marry me?”
She stares at me, completely dumbfounded. Honestly, the question shocks even me. And for a brief moment, I wonder if I’ve lost my mind. But strangely enough, I don’t take my words back. Instead, out of nowhere, I feel this strange certainty—like a sixth sense telling me that this just feels right. And for the first time, I want to follow what my heart says, and not my business mind. So, I choose to stand by them, despite the absurdity of it all.
“WHAT?” she finally asks, breaking the silence.
I take a deep breath and say it again, more firmly this time. “You heard me. Marry me.”
She blinks, then bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. “I knew it! I knew you were a psycho the moment I first saw you!”
I frown, clearly offended. “I’m not a psycho. I’m serious.”
“Serious? Oh, sure,” she repeats, still laughing as she grabs her phone from the counter. “Let me help you out. I’ll Google the contact details of some excellent psychiatrists who might be able to help you.”
“Sana, I’m not joking,” I say, taking her phone from her hand and setting it down on the counter. “Look, I’m rich and successful. I can give you everything you could ever want—comfort, security, money, a life that’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. All you have to do is say yes.”
Now those dark eyes narrow at me. “Wow. You really thought that would work. Let me guess—you’re used to women falling at your feet the moment you flash your bank balance?”
“I mean… it’s not exactly a bad offer,” I say, my voice tinged with a mix of confidence and frustration. To be honest, any girl in her place would be thrilled. But for some reason, I get this feeling that I’m completely messing things up with her.
