I met Aaryan properly at a wedding I never wanted to attend.

It was my dad’s friend’s wedding—one of those lavish affairs where everyone pretends they aren’t quietly judging everyone else. I was standing with my friends, half-listening to my aunt talk about someone’s engagement, when a hand gently closed around my arm.

“My dear,” a woman said warmly. “Come here for a moment.”

Before I could protest, I was already being guided away. That’s when I saw him.

Aaryan stood beside her, tall and composed, his expression carved from something colder than marble. Black suit. Sharp jaw. Eyes that looked like they’d already decided I was an inconvenience.

His mother smiled at me like she’d known me my entire life.

She asked about my studies, my parents, my plans—harmless questions, the kind you answer with practiced politeness. I smiled. I nodded. I was good. Too good.

Then her tone shifted, ever so slightly.

“You know,” she said gently, “you and Aaryan would make a lovely match.”

My smile faltered before I could stop it.

She noticed immediately.

“Oh—don’t misunderstand,” she said quickly, patting my hand. “I’m not pressuring you. Just… get to know each other first.”

I nodded again, lips stretching into a fake smile that hurt my cheeks. I could feel Aaryan watching me, like he was dissecting every expression, every lie.

The night ended shortly after. Or at least, it should have.

I was halfway to the exit when someone grabbed my wrist.

“Leaving already?”

I turned, irritated. “I want to go home.”

Instead of letting go, Aaryan tugged me gently—but firmly—into an empty hallway, the noise of the wedding fading behind us.

Up close, he was worse. Too calm. Too confident.

“Give me your number,” he said, like it wasn’t a question.

I laughed. Once. “No.”

He tilted his head slightly, clicking his tongue under his breath. “So sweet earlier,” he murmured. “Cold now.” He tch’d softly.

I rolled my eyes and look away.

“Instagram, then.”

I stepped back. “Absolutely not.”

I walked away before he could say another word, heels echoing louder than my heartbeat.

I thought that was the end of it.

I was wrong.

Because a week later, Aaryan started picking me up from my college.

I didn’t give him my number. I didn’t give him my Instagram. I didn’t give him anything. And yet—there he was. Every afternoon. Leaning against his car like he belonged there, watching me like I was part of his routine.