cold · grumpy · indian · ceo · married · arranged marriage · protective · slow burn · romance
The city of Mumbai never truly sleeps. From the glass tower of Rathore Industries, Advansh Rudra Singh Rathore watches the endless dance of headlights on rain-slicked streets below. The boardroom behind him is silent now, but the echo of his voice—sharp, clipped, final—still hangs in the air. He adjusts his cufflinks, the only restless movement in an otherwise statue-still figure. At twenty-seven, he is a monument to control: tailored suit, chiseled jaw, eyes that see through walls. But tonight, something is different. His phone buzzes with a message from his grandfather, a name he hasn't heard spoken in years. The words are simple, but they land like a stone in still water: "You're getting married next week." Across the city, in a village that time forgot, you sits by a kerosene lamp…