Author's note: Thank you for the love on the last chapter. Can we please get this chapter to 90 votes?

Aahana Agnihotri

"Aahana, this arrangement is non-negotiable," my father said, taking a long drag of his expensive cigar. He had discarded his jacket earlier, his crisp white shirt now slightly rumpled

I raised an eyebrow, my voice dripping with controlled sarcasm. "Non-negotiable. Fascinating. I wasn't aware my life had been reduced to one of your corporate contracts that you could simply sign off on."

The truth was, I was proud of myself for getting through the evening's party without causing a scene. Years of conditioning had taught me that open rebellion was futile. I had learned very early on that throwing tantrums never worked with my parents. The key was to appear compliant, to let them believe they had won, while secretly planning my escape.

My mother perched herself on the couch in my father's study, crossing one leg over the other. "Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in your position?" she asked, her voice a mix of condescension and desperation.

I scoffed and shook my head. She really had no feelings. "Kill to be sold off like premium cattle to a random man?" I retorted. "Doesn't this go against all the feminist rhetoric you've been preaching about at events?"

Her perfectly manicured hand clutched the arm of the couch. "Stop using that language. You aren't being sold. Marriage in our circles is about strategic alliance."

My father leaned forward. "And Raj isn't some random man. His family has political connections that stretch across three generations. His company is valued at over five hundred million dollars."

I didn't even bother correcting him that he had gotten the name of his future son-in-law incorrect. "Ah, yes," I drawled. "Because a fat bank account is the ultimate measure of human compatibility."

"What do you know about humans and relationships?" he snapped. "You've been floating through life on our money. We have sheltered you and protected you throughout your life. This marriage is your chance to actually contribute something meaningful to our family."

My nails dug painfully into the skin of my palm and I had to grind my teeth to not say anything. They were giving me everything except choice. Except freedom. Except the basic human dignity.

"We're talking about securing your entire future, Aahana," she said. "Do you think passion for art will pay the bills? Do you think your little artistic dreams will protect you after we are gone?"

"And you think you are protecting me by forcing me into a marriage that mirrors yours?" I shot back. "A marriage built on transactions and silent hatred? Tell me, since you already know how this works... Do I talk to Rohit about it before or is it predetermined that both of us can just fuck anyone outside of the marriage to fill the emptiness?"

My father shot up, his face a canvas of fury. He raised his arm as if to strike me. "Aahana," he roared. "Don't forget we are your parents. You will speak to us with respect."

"Respect?" I whispered, my voice suddenly calm. "It's not a demand. Respect is earned."

"Aahana," my mother's voice was soft now. "You need to understand. This is the best decision for all the parties involved. Your father is going to announce his political candidacy soon and we need to prove to the country that we are a happy traditional family."

"And this isn't just about," my father added, stubbing his cigar. "This is about our family's legacy. Our future generations to come."

"How long do I have?" I asked. There was no winning for me in this situation. All I could do was buy as much time as I could. I still needed to get a lot of things done before I could disappear forever.

"We'll make the announcement in the next two months," my father sat back in his seat, seemingly pleased with himself. "The wedding date is set to coincide with our yearly shareholder meeting."

"So the wedding will take place in the next six months?" I asked, trying to keep my rising at bay.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," my mother said, smiling. "We'll take care of all the preparations. We promise to give you the wedding of your dreams."

"The wedding of my dreams," I repeated sarcastically. Assuming the conversation had reached its conclusion I walked out of the study. The staff were still cleaning as I walked past them. Some of them gave me small smiles while others kept working.

I laid on my bed not bothering to change out of the party outfit. Future generations? That's what my parents were worried about? Then the legacy they so desperately clung to, I would ensure would die with me. This family's bloodline would end here.

______

My leather chair creaked as I shifted, pretending to look at the the documents on my desk while Vaani continued to fill me in about some new flight routes and services we are adding.

"Aahana?"

"Aahana?"

I looked up realizing that she was done with her spiel.

"Yes?" I asked, blinking.

"Would you like to go over your presentation?"

I cleared my throat and stared at her blankly. "What?"

"The presentation next Thursday? For the quarterly board meeting. I put it on your calendar," she reminded.

"As long as I'm just reading out of the presentation notes, I'll be just fine," I said, dismissively.

"Your father's secretary mentioned that he would really like it if you practiced a little so you can answer any questions they may have."

Groaning, I nodded. "Whatever, let's do it after that meeting..." I trailed off, trying to remember what that meeting was about.

"The Departmental Updates Meeting?"

"Yeah! That one," I murmured, leaning back in my chair.

"Your father also–"

"Vaani," I said, firmly. "Can we please do this later?"

Vaani nodded stiffly, grabbed her things, and left my room without a word.

She hated me and I couldn't even blame her. She had tried everything to help me settle into this new role, but I just couldn't do it. Now, it was clearly that leaving wasn't just something I might do– it was something I had to do. Despite being terrified of being all alone in this world. Even though my parents were shitty and no matter how fake my friends were, everything was at least familiar. And as much I feared the loneliness, the unfamiliarity, something inside told me if not now then it would never happen. Marrying Rohit would kill me. I would just move from one gilded cage to another.

I was moving forward, even if I didn't know what the future would look like.

A knock on the door had me sighing. Why couldn't people just leave me alone?

"Come in," I called out.

The door opened and I was surprised to see Mukesh Mishra, our family's lawyer since before I was born, walking in with his signature brown leather briefcase. He was the lawyer that all the rich families of the country used to set up their trust funds and find all sorts of shady ways to hide their 'personal money' while staying on the 'right side' of the law.

"Mr. Mishra!" I said, sitting up slightly. "Have a seat."

He settled into the chair and smiled politely at me.

"I was just here to see your father so I thought I'd stop by and congratulate you. I didn't get to do that last night."

I nodded. "Thank you."

"Well the next three- four years are going to be very exciting for you," he said, chuckling.

When I raised an eyebrow, he clarified, "You are going to become the COO of Celestial Flights, get married and then on your first wedding anniversary get partial access to your trust fund. I'm sure–"

"Why would I need to wait till the first wedding anniversary or even be married for my trust fund?" My voice came out steady despite the cold dread spreading through my chest. "It should be accessible to me on my 27th birthday, no? That's what Karan told me." Karan Mishra was a part of my usual circles. I had met him several times at parties and other social events. In a drunken state, he was boasting about how he was going to help hide all our money soon now that he was a lawyer and that's when he had slipped that I was going to get my trust fund when I turned twenty seven.

His expression shifted. "Did he now?"

"Yes, but–"

He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Karan is still learning. He shouldn't have discussed this with you. I'll talk to him."

My stomach plummeted, but I forced my face to remain neutral, channeling years of practice at maintaining a nonchalant appearance. "So what exactly are the terms for my trust fund?" If I knew the terms, maybe there was still a way out, a loophole, anything that I could use to find a way.

"The terms are very clear," he said matter of factly. "You need to be married by twenty seven and be at least married for one year for half of the trust fund and the second part will be accessible at the birth of your first child."

"But, Karan said I just have to be 27," I blurted out, hating how desperate I sounded.

"He is still learning the complexities of family trusts. He shouldn't have given you incorrect information. I apologize on his behalf." His tone was gentle, paternal even, which somehow made it worse.

I watched him gather his briefcase, my fingers curling into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The pain helped mask the rising panic. Marriage. A child.

"Well, I should get going," he said, heading for the door. "I'll see you later."

As the door closed behind him, I stared at the empty chair.

Marriage. One Year. A child.

I kept repeating.

The walls of my office seemed to close in as my breaths came in short gasps. I tried to inhale deeply but it was suddenly getting too difficult to breathe.

Marriage. One year. A child.

My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of my desk. The room tilted sideways, then righted itself, then tilted again. Sweat beaded at my temples despite the cool air conditioning. The collar of my silk blouse felt too suffocating. The familiar tightness squeezed my chest like a vice as a familiar tingling sensation crept up my arms.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It was happening again.

No! No! I couldn't do this. Not here.

I tried to remember what Adarsh had told me the last time. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. 

Three things I can see, I reminded myself, fighting against the overwhelming urge to curl up under my desk.

The crystal paperweight catching the afternoon light. The framed photo of our first aircraft on the wall. The half-empty coffee cup on my desk.

My chest was so tight it felt like my ribs were being crushed. Breathe. Just breathe.

Three things I can hear.

The distant hum of the air conditioning. The muffled sound of phones ringing in the outer office. The soft whir of my laptop fan.

The room was still spinning, but slower now.

Three things I can feel.

The cool glass table beneath my fingertips. The cool air from the vent above. The press of my bracelet against my wrist.

Slowly, gradually, the room stopped spinning. My breathing evened out, though my hands still shook slightly.

I pulled out my compact mirror, checking my makeup. Nothing smeared, though my face was paler than usual. Good. I reapplied my lipstick and fixed my foundation. I was going to get through this. No matter what happened. I needed that trust fund money to plan my fake death so no one could follow me when I disappeared, and enough to start fresh with a new identity. If not all of my trust fund, then at least a part of it. I'll just adapt.

Through the glass walls of my office, I spotted Adarsh heading toward the conference room. My pulse quickened as an idea took shape– it was risky, so risky. I poked my head out of the cabin.

"Adarsh!" My voice echoed down the hallway. "Do you have a minute?"

He paused mid-stride, turning to face me. The smile he had on his face while talking to his other colleague slipped.

"I need to discuss something with you and it's urgent," I said, retreating into my office. He knew it wasn't a request.

He followed, closing the door behind him. "I believe congratulations are in order," he drawled. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"I don't have time for your stupid games today, so shut up," I ordered.

The curtness in my voice probably threw him off because he did just as I asked.

"I want to talk to you about your career trajectory."

My topic of discussion really caught him off-guard for a moment before he chuckled. "Really? And why's that?"

I perched on the edge of my desk, studying him. He was perfect for what I needed: ambitious enough to be tempted, smart enough to be useful, but not so connected that he'd be impossible to leave behind. "Would you like to be the Chief Legal Officer for Celestial Flights?"

His expression shuttered. "I also don't have time for the games you're playing. So now, please excuse me. I have a meeting–"

"I can make it happen." I interrupted. "No need to work overtime, no need to play politics with your colleagues and superiors and definitely no more waiting for my father to notice your potential."

That caught his attention. He shifted his weight, trying to hide his interest. "With all due respect, Ms. Agnihotri, your influence in the company is... limited."

A smile tugged at my lips. "It won't be. Not if you're my husband." The trust fund required marriage and one year of stability. They never specified what happened after that. By the time my 'accident' was discovered, Adarsh would be too established in his role to be easily dismissed. Him and our sham marriage would be the perfect smokescreen for my disappearance.

The silence that followed was deafening. I watched confusion and shock flash on his face. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Lifting my chin, I made him the offer. "Marry me. Marry me and this entire company could be yours."