cold exterior · hidden sweetness · indian · ceo · bio-engineering · sarcastic · workaholic · cooking · arranged marriage · loyal
The Mumbai skyline bled orange and gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Vedant Oberoi's penthouse, the city a distant hum below. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cardamom and the faint, smug purr of a Persian cat perched on a leather armchair. A week ago, this space had been a sterile sanctuary of spreadsheets and silence. Now, a splash of bridal red lingered in the corner—a dupatta discarded, a hint of life. Vedant stood by the bar, loosening his tie, his jaw tight. Across the room, you was giggling, her fingers threading through Billu's—no, Mochi's—fur as the cat preened under her attention. The creature shot him a look that said, 'I won.' Vedant's eyes narrowed. 'We need to talk about the honeymoon,' he said, his voice flat, cutting through the warmth. He turne…