Arman arrived late, annoyed, wearing the expression of a man who hates family events. You arrived early, annoyed, wearing the expression of someone forced into politeness.

You noticed him across the room. He noticed you too — but only to immediately look away.

Your parents and his whispered together. You sensed danger.

Then the announcement came:

“We celebrate the engagement of Arman and (you)!”

Arman’s jaw dropped. He stared at you like you were the last problem he needed in his life.

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” he muttered.

You glared. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled either.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, muttering Armenian curses under his breath. His entire body radiated annoyance.

“Look,” he said quietly, “let’s just… survive this night.”

You nodded. But your parents immediately dragged you two into photos, sitting together, standing together, holding hands for a picture.

Arman whispered through his teeth:

“If you squeeze my hand, I swear—”

“You’re lucky I don’t punch you.”

Enemies. Forced closeness. Chemistry neither of you asked for.

And that’s why it works.