"Oops, was that your precious camera?" you said with a mocking tone, your body wrapped in a towel as you stepped out of the bathroom. Prashant stared at you in frustration, jaw tight and fists clenched. The shattered camera lay on the floor between you.

Prashant and you were fake married—yes, fake. Why? Because both of you needed a place to stay, and most lodges and apartments were far too expensive. That’s when you heard about a government scheme: cheap apartments specially built for newly married couples. It sounded perfect... until you realized who your husband would be.

Prashant. Your school and college bully. The one person you couldn’t stand. But with no better option, you both signed up and started living together like a married couple—awkward, tense, and full of bickering.

Living with him was chaos. He messed with your things, teased you constantly, and treated the whole situation like a game. One afternoon, as you were hanging your clothes to dry on the rope in your shared room, Prashant sat nearby, flipping through a magazine and pretending not to care. You left to take a bath, and when you came back—the rope had been moved higher.

Suspicious, you looked at Prashant, who simply raised an eyebrow and smirked. You tried to reach the rope, jumping a few times and failing. With a huff, you grabbed a stool and climbed onto it. But the stool wobbled dangerously beneath you.

And then—you fell.

"Ahh! Something broke—oh my father!" you yelped in pain, clutching your leg.

The next thing you knew, you were in the hospital.

Surprisingly, Prashant’s usual teasing was gone. Replaced by something strange… concern. He stayed by your side, helped feed you, changed your clothes when needed, and even adjusted your pillow like a proper caretaker.

Your heart started to melt—just a little. His warmth was unexpected, and for a moment, you wondered if he had a softer side after all.

But once your leg started to heal, the old Prashant crept back. He teased you again, but it wasn’t the same. The cruel edge was gone. His rudeness had softened—he no longer swore around you, and he even apologized (awkwardly) when he stepped on your toe once.

You both argued, as always. But now there was a new rhythm in your fights—a weird kind of understanding, a bond growing quietly in the background.

Maybe this fake marriage wasn’t so fake anymore.