Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Chapter 4

This is part 5 of 5 in the book Destined: A Marriage of Convenience

Destined: A Marriage of Convenience

Destined: A Marriage of Convenience and not Love: Blurb
Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Chapter 1
Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Chapter 2
Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Chapter 3
Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Chapter 4

Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Their nok-jhok

5,173 words, 27 minutes read time.

A Marriage of Convenience Love Story Set in Kolkata

Destined: A Marriage of Convenience Love Story – Chapter 4
Their Nok-Jhok

Don’t forget to read Chapter 3 of Destined: A Marriage of Convenience.

Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story: Chapter 3

Destined – A Marriage of Convenience Love Story

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Abhoy

“Abhoy, I’m so happy that I feel I will only jinx it, cast my own evil eye, and ruin everything. I don’t want to. This house has been mourning for far too long. And now, it’s over. The dark period is over, and light has come in the disguise of Mehek. She’s so beautiful, but more than that… she’s so positive, like a force of nature whose only job is to spread happiness. Yesterday went so well. They are good people, especially Mrs. Bagchi. And the same goodness she has passed on to Mehek.”

I held back a sigh as Maa’s voice filled the room, warm and restless, like it had been waiting years to sound this alive again.

It was morning, and I was just about to leave for work when she came. She had been in my room for the past thirty minutes, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands moving as she talked, her eyes brighter than I have seen in a long time.

She was reliving last night, the chirp in her voice clear. All because of a girl she met just one time. Mehek had made quite an impression.

I sighed, because that girl had stayed in my head as well. There was something about her that stuck, that stayed, that made you wonder. But I had controlled my thoughts, my Maa not so much.

She kept talking, about the gifts, the food, how everything went perfect. But it didn’t. She had no idea about Mehek and my conversation upstairs, about how I had given her a choice to say no.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest, my gaze fixed somewhere past her, though I heard every word. I have always wanted to make her happy and I failed the past seven years.

I couldn’t look beyond my pain. But now that had changed. Because I agreed to get married. Finally. One change, one step, and my mother had got her old self back.

But for how long? How long would this last?

What if Mehek said no? I didn’t know how to tell mom that Mehek may not even become her daughter-in-law.

That there was still time, a chance for her to walk out. Out of the twenty-four hours I gave her, sixteen hours, give or take, were still left. Enough time for Mehek to say no. To walk away. To choose something else for herself.

I gave her that freedom, and I didn’t regret it. Because how can we start this on a lie, or on force. This wasn’t going to be marriage of love, but it didn’t need to be a marriage on hate. Mehek hated everything yesterday, until the gifts my mother gave her. But before that she wasn’t ready for this marriage. She didn’t want any of this. All she was interested was in her trip. Solo trip, I scoffed to myself.

I sigh and cup Maa’s face to get her attention. “Maa, she didn’t know about our age difference. She had no idea I’m thirty-three. Why would her family not tell her that?”

The words come out quieter than I intend, but they land.

Maa paused, then stared at me, frowning slightly, taking in my words.

“I don’t know. We didn’t hide.”

“I know we didn’t. But she didn’t know. What if….”

“Why are you saying that?” she asked, cutting me off. “What happened? Did she say something?” Her brows pulled together, the light in her eyes flickering just a little. “I know you are a little older but… you are successful and…”

“Maa,” I said, my voice firmer now, “just because I’m successful, we cannot ruin someone else’s life.”

She stared at me for a second, like she didn’t understand the sentence. Like I was the perfect guy. I wasn’t. I was broken, I had been in coma for six months. I still took anxiety medicines sometime. I woke up from nightmares. But just because we had money, we could do anything. I didn’t like that.

“Why will it be ruined when we all keep her happy?” she asked, her voice rising slightly, not angry, just desperate to make me see what she sees. “I haven’t seen your father smile in so long. Yesterday he did. He told me Mehek is suitable for our family. He told me this was the right move for the family.”

Her hands clasped together, tight, and I could see the desperation in her eyes.

“No, Abhoy. This cannot happen. You have to do something. You have to give us this happiness. We deserve it.”

“Mom…”

“No.” Her voice cuts through mine this time. “You have my promise, Abhoy. Make this happen, or you will see me dead. When will this stop? When will the dark clouds on our family lift?”

“Mom… stop it…”

“I’m serious this time, Abhoy Chatterjee.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “I want this. I want to see you married. I want her in our house. She is what we all need. Mehek Bagchi is our only way to happiness now. Can’t you see your pain, your loneliness has affected all of us. ”

She paused, her gaze softening just a little. “Even you had a spark yesterday. Something I haven’t seen in the last seven years. Abhoy, don’t ruin this. Priyo, we need her.”

The word sat heavy in the room. Need. I nodded, not knowing what else to do.

What if she said no? The thought came and took root inside me.

What would I do then? The answer came before I could stop it. I had to make sure she didn’t. I had use my power.

Maa wiped her tears with the edge of her saree, composing herself as quickly as she lost it, and then she left the room. The door closed softly behind her.

I stayed where I was, staring at nothing, the weight of the conversation pressing down slowly.

Then, just as suddenly, it cleared, and I knew what to do. I reached for my phone and dial Amitava’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

“Abhoy, son, so good to hear from you. Last night went very well.”

His voice carries a smile I can almost see.

“My lawyers will get the study done in an hour,” I say, my tone steady. “How about we meet in the afternoon? We can finalize the deal and get your business out from underwater.”

There is a brief pause on the other end.

“Oh, that’s great.”

“And we can do the engagement this week.” I added in the mix.

There was another pause, longer this time. “So soon? We need time to prepare.”

“We will do it at my place. You all just have to come. My mother will handle the preparations.”

“But… the engagement should happen from our side. That’s the tradition.”

“I make my own rules, Mr. Bagchi.” My voice didn’t rise, but it didn’t soften either. I knew I had to show my power. “And I want it to happen at my place. You are free to invite guests as well. Just tell me the number. My dad will call you for further discussion.”

“Oh… okay. Let me talk to my brother. It’s his daughter after all.”

“I thought you made the decisions. How about I come for dinner tonight. Just me, not my family. And we talk about it.”

“Sure. That’s great. But let me talk to Mehek’s mother once. There are preparations needed to be done and…”

“I understand.,” I said, interrupting him. “Let me know when you come in the afternoon. And Mr. Bagchi, keep your lunch hour free. I think we need to know each other more,” I added smoothly.

“Of course son. Call me Kaka.”

I ended the call, feeling like an ass. But my family’s happiness was my top priority now. Whatever happened before… I couldn’t stop it, but I could one thing. Give them their favorite daughter-in-law.

I leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly, but the feeling didn’t leave. I just hoped she didn’t blame me too much for this. I did intend to take care of her. Love might not be in the cards, but I would make sure she has everything she needs.

I reached the office and tried to settle into work. Files were opened, emails skimmed, numbers stared back at me. None of it stayed. My focus slipped every few minutes, drifting back to the same place.

It wasn’t working. After a while, I leaned back and reached for my laptop again, typing a single word into Google.

Panchgani.

The results loaded slowly, and I clicked on images, scrolling through them one by one. Hills wrapped in soft green, long winding roads, quiet viewpoints overlooking endless valleys. It looked calm. Too calm.

A small hill station in Maharashtra. Two hundred and fifty-four kilometers from Mumbai. She had her flight booked till Mumbai. Which meant she would travel the rest of the way alone. I exhaled quietly. It wasn’t exactly safe.

And yet, she had been excited enough to argue with me about it yesterday.

The images kept sliding past. Open skies, empty roads, silence that looked almost inviting. So this is where she wanted to go.

Yagini’s favorite place had been Paris.

The thought came and stayed. I had taken her to Paris. My parents had met her and they let us travel together. We had such amazing times during those vacations.

But that was over. Everything was. Death was like the ultimate end, with no point of return. I closed the tab.

My hand moved to my phone, checking the screen.

No message.

I stared at it for a moment.

Was that a good sign?

I had told her to inform me if it was a no. No message meant she hadn’t said no. Which meant… maybe it was a yes. I dropped the phone back onto the table, my jaw tightening slightly.

God, I didn’t need this right now. Not when I had two government contracts sitting on my head. Five-year deals. The kind that didn’t come easy and didn’t forgive mistakes. If they went through clean, they would change things for the company.

I could finally shift my attention back to the diamond business for a while.

Managing both had started to stretch thin. Meetings overlapping, decisions piling up, time slipping faster than I could control.

By the time I stepped out of the office, it was already evening. Seven.

By the time I stepped out of the office, it was already evening. Seven. The afternoon, at least, had gone well, actually better than expected. I now held fifty-one percent stake in Bagchi Jewelers. I had control over the company.

From what I knew, Mehek was part of the business too. Which made the thought harder to ignore. Didn’t she know about the debt? About the risk they had taken? About the way her Kaka had purchased gold at its peak, just before the market fell. The kind of fall that didn’t just hurt for a while. It stayed. It dragged things down slowly.

I let out a slow breath, pushing the thought aside as I pulled into the mall.

Maa’s words were clear. I wasn’t supposed to go empty-handed.

I stepped inside, the cool air brushing against my face as I walked past one store after another. Lights, polished floors, quiet conversations, the faint hum of people moving through their own errands. I didn’t stop at first, just walked, letting my eyes move over displays until something felt right.

I found it in a designer store that didn’t try too hard to stand out. It didn’t need to.

I stepped in.

The fabrics spoke for themselves. Silk that caught the light softly, chiffons that fell like they had weight and grace at the same time, embroidery that looked intricate without being loud. My gaze moved slowly, taking it in, until it paused.

A kurta set.

Formal Indian wear. Clean. Balanced. Elegant without trying to be noticed.

I knew immediately.

This was what I wanted to get for her.

“For whom, sir?” the salesman asked, already reaching for a few options, his tone polite, practiced.

“For someone,” I said, leaving it there.

He smiled anyway, like that was enough.

“Pink color? Red? Vibrant colors?”

“Show me what you have,” I said, glancing at the ones he had already kept aside. “And those as well.”

“Of course, sir.”

He began laying them out one by one, unfolding each piece carefully across the counter. Soft pinks, deeper reds, richer tones that carried a quiet brightness to them.

“I’ll take these,” I said, nodding toward a few without overthinking it.

“And show me more options. Something more vibrant.”

“How about dresses with a golden intricate border? Perfect for traditional occasions.”

I nodded.

That would work.

Time passed without much thought after that. More pieces were brought out, more choices made. I didn’t linger too long on any of them. Just enough to know.

By the time I was done, there were three bags for Mehek. Different styles. Different colors.

A saree for her mother.

A wallet and a planner for her father.

A shirt piece for Amitava.

Maa had already sent sweets.

That covered everything.

I stepped out, the weight of the bags settling into my hands as I made my way back to the car. The drive passed quietly, the city moving around me in its usual rhythm while my mind stayed somewhere else entirely.

I reached their place a little after eight.

The door opened almost immediately.

“Abhoy beta, please come. When Jethji said you were coming, I was so happy.”

I smiled, adjusting the bags slightly before stepping forward. “Thank you, Aunty. How are you?”

“Good. And happy. So happy.” She stepped aside, her hand gesturing me in. “Please come inside, Abhoy.”

I stepped in. And my eyes moved before I could stop them, scanning, searching.

The house was decent. Not grand, not trying too hard to impress beyond what it was, but it held itself well. Everything had a place, and everything was in it. The furniture was simple, chosen with care rather than show, polished just enough to reflect attention. Nothing looked out of order, nothing felt neglected or hurried.

There was effort in it. Quiet, consistent effort that showed in the smallest details. The cushions were aligned neatly, the curtains fell evenly without creases, and even the corners of the room looked attended to. It was elegantly decorated, not in a way that demanded attention, but in a way that made the space feel settled and lived in. And it was clean. Very clean. I noticed that immediately.

I sat down when Aunty gestured to me, taking the glass of water she offered. Taking a sip before placing it back in her hand, my gaze moved once toward the hallway. She wasn’t there. Mehek still hadn’t come.

I reached for one of the bags, the one with the saree, and handed it to Aunty just as footsteps sounded at the entrance. Mehek’s father, Bhaskor Bagchi, walked in with Amitava beside him. Mehek’s father came and hugged me, and so did her Kaka.

“Son, welcome home. So good we could meet again so soon. Welcome to our modest house.”

“It has a vibe,” I replied, my tone even as I passed the saree to Aunty. “A good one.”

She opened the bag slightly, checking the saree. A soft gasp escaped her, the kind that wasn’t meant to be heard but couldn’t be held back.

“The saree is beautiful,” she said, looking up at me. “But you didn’t have to get it.”

“I had to,” I said simply. Then I turned toward Mehe’s father and handed him the wallet and planner I got for him. “Sir, for you.”

“Thank you, Son. This is very useful.”

Amitava took the shirt piece from me next, his expression shifting with a quiet appreciation that he didn’t put into words. The driver stepped in just then, placing the boxes of sweets on the table before leaving without a sound.

That covered everyone in the room. Everyone except her. The remaining three bags stayed beside me, their presence growing more noticeable with each passing minute.

Where was she?

Ten minutes went by. Conversation moved around me, steady and polite, but my attention kept slipping. Then I heard it. A soft, familiar sound that made me look up without thinking. The faint tinkle of bangles.

I had heard it yesterday too.

My gaze shifted toward the hallway just as she appeared, walking in with a tray in her hands.

I blinked once. Really?

And with glasses. I just hoped the tray didn’t meet the same fate as the glass yesterday. She reached me, her steps slowing just enough to steady the tray, and I raised an eyebrow slightly. But she just gulped.

I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. I took the glass from her. It had some welcome drink. I took a sip and ah, it was lemon soda. Nice. The sharp, fizzy taste settled easily.

Mehek handed the other glasses and then she sat down, her gaze dropping straight to her lap, her fingers folding into each other.

C’mon, look at me, I said inside, but she didn’t. Her father started speaking, asking about my work, and I answered. The conversation moved along, steady and polite, but it felt stretched. Thirty minutes passed like that, words exchanged that didn’t really matter.

What I wanted was to talk to her. That too alone.

I leaned back slightly, realizing it a little too late. I did this wrong. I should have asked Amitava to let me take Mehek out, instead of coming here. But I didn’t.

God, how stupid could I be. I had been out of this space for too long. This… “Show me your work,” I said aloud, cutting into the conversation. “The freelance business you have.”

There was a brief pause.

“Yes, Mehek,” her father said, turning to her. “Take Abhoy to your room and show him how creative you are.”

She stood immediately without a word to me, or even trying to look at me. I didn’t like that. But I remained quiet, I had to, at least until we were out of the earshot. I picked the remaining bags with me, of the gifts I had bought for her, and followed her. That should cheer her up.

“What happened?” I asked.

She didn’t stop walking.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice flat. “Nothing can happen. A girl has no voice. Did you know that?”

I frowned slightly. “What?”

She let out a short breath, almost like a bitter laugh. “See? Even you can’t hear me.”

She pushed her door open and stepped inside. I followed, closing it behind me.

Before she could move further, I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back gently but firmly until her back met the door.

I set the bags down beside us and stepped closer, boxing her in without thinking twice.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice lower now.

“I messaged you,” she said, her eyes finally meeting mine, sharp this time. “And you didn’t even reply.”

“What?” The word came out before I could stop it. “I didn’t get your message.”

“Wow.” She let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “First you ask me to message you, and then you lie.”

I pulled out my phone immediately, unlocking it and checking. It had no notification. None at all.

I turned the screen toward her. “See. No message.”

My gaze stayed on hers.

“Do you want to end this?” I asked, my gaze steady on her. “Is that what you messaged me?”

She let out a quiet sigh and shook her head, her eyes still lowered.

I almost cursed under my breath. This was already turning into something more complicated than it needed to be. I opened my message app, irritation building as I scrolled. My expression tightened when I saw it.

Her message. Unread. How was this possible?

I stared at it for a second, my jaw clenching. Why hadn’t I seen it? Had the notification not come through, or had I dismissed it without noticing?

I opened it and read.

Mehek: If you let me go to Panchgani alone, I’m ready. And you let me work, you should always let me work.

I read it again, slower this time, letting each word settle before I looked up at her.

Her eyes were back on her toes.

“Mehek, look at me.”

She lifted her head, and this time there was no hesitation. Her eyes met mine, sharp, almost challenging. I didn’t like that look. Not because it was wrong, but because it felt like she was already putting distance between us.

“I will let you go to Panchgani,” I said.

The change in her was immediate. Her eyes lit up, something soft breaking through the tension.

I noticed it.

And I found myself pulling back from it.

“It’s already planned,” I continued, my tone even, “and I don’t want to come in between that. But I do have some conditions. We’ll talk about them later. Not now.”

I paused, then added, “Show me your work.”

She smiled.

For the first time, properly.

It wasn’t forced, wasn’t polite. It reached her eyes, softened her face in a way that made her look… lighter.

I didn’t react outwardly, but I noticed it.

“I wasn’t ready for this marriage,” she said, turning away slightly as she walked toward a wooden box placed on a table. She opened it carefully, lifting the lid as if it held something delicate.

I didn’t respond to her words immediately. Instead, I stepped closer and picked up what she held out to me.

A pair of pearl earrings.

Intricate golden thread wrapped around them in delicate floral patterns, each detail precise, each loop intentional. I looked closer, noticing the fine work, the patience it must have taken.

There were more inside the box. Different designs, but the same level of care. Nothing rushed. Nothing careless.

“Beautiful, Mehek,” I said, my voice quieter now. “These are amazing.”

“A lady who does this,” she said, her fingers brushing lightly over the pieces, “she’s from Panchgani. She has promised to show me her work. Teach me her technique.”

There was something in her voice when she spoke about it. Something steady. Certain.

“Okay,” I said, setting the piece back carefully. “So… you’re in?”

She hesitated, her fingers still resting against the box. Then she swallowed.

“I’m not prepared for this,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “And yesterday you gave me a lecture about your family name and everything. I don’t know if I can live up to it.”

“You will,” I said, without giving it too much thought. “My mother already loves you, Mehek.”

I paused for a second before adding, “And I… I’ll give you all the wings you need. I promise you that.”

She nodded, though it wasn’t a strong one. Just enough to acknowledge what I had said.

I bent down and picked up the bags I had placed on the floor earlier, holding them out to her.

“Three bags?” she asked, a hint of surprise slipping through.

“Just check.”

She took them from me and opened the first one, then the second. Her expression shifted quickly, surprise turning into something brighter.

“Wow,” she said, pulling out one of the dresses. “The dress is so pretty.”

She ran her fingers over the fabric, taking it in, her attention fully on it for a moment.

I watched her, then spoke.

“You need to understand something.”

She stilled slightly, her hands pausing mid-movement.

“This marriage isn’t about love,” I said, my tone calm, controlled. “It’s about me fulfilling your needs. Providing you protection and safety.”

The words settled heavily between us.

She frowned, her brows drawing together as she looked up at me. Then, slowly, the bag slipped from her hands, landing softly against the floor.

This mattered to her.

I could see it.

“Mehek…” I started.

“Go,” she said, cutting me off, her voice tight now. “I’ll marry you because I have no other choice. And thanks for letting me know there is no love here. I never said there was.”

“Mehek…”

“Please go,” she said, her voice quieter now but firmer. “I’ll come outside in a minute. I need a minute.”

“This is an arranged marriage,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.

She gave a short nod. “Right. Go, please.”

I stood there for a second longer than I should have, then turned and walked out. The door closed behind me with a soft click.

Had I said something wrong?

We had met twice. Just twice. Love didn’t happen like that. It couldn’t. And yet, it felt like I had hurt her. I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I walked down the corridor.

I didn’t want to hurt her. But love couldn’t be forced.

How was I supposed to give something I didn’t have?

My mind went somewhere I didn’t let it go often. Yagini. The name stayed there, heavy and quiet. I couldn’t tell Mehek about her. I couldn’t tell her that the person I had loved was gone. She was dead.

I couldn’t. Maa had made sure of that. And I had promised. That skeleton had to stay inside me.

Mehek

Love.

The one thing I had always wanted without saying it out loud. The one thing I had quietly built my dreams around. And the one thing I now knew I would never have.

He was outside. Waiting.

And I had to go back.

I stood there for a moment longer, staring at nothing, knowing I didn’t have much time. Another minute, maybe two, and Maa would come looking for me.

It was strange how quickly everything had changed.

Until yesterday, there had been space in my life. Possibilities. Small hopes I hadn’t even dared to shape properly, but they were there. Today, it felt like someone had wiped it all clean without asking me.

Like Lord Shiva had heard me, paused, and then decided to give me the exact opposite of what I had asked for.

The universe had tied me to a man who had already told me he could not love me.

The door opened softly, and Maa stepped in.

“What happened, Priyo?” she asked, her voice filled with concern as she walked toward me quickly and pulled me into her arms.

I didn’t realize how much I needed that until I was already leaning into her.

I wiped my tears quickly before they could fall again. “Nothing, Maa,” I said, pulling back. “Let’s go. Until yesterday, my life was so different. Now…” I let out a small breath. “Now that is gone. Those days are gone.”

“Beta…” she started, her hand coming up to cup my face.

“Let it be, please,” I said softly, shaking my head. I forced a small smile and gestured toward the bags in the corner. “And see, he got so many gifts for me.”

Maa glanced at them, but her attention didn’t stay there for long.

“Mehek, they want to do the engagement next Sunday.”

I blinked. “Six days from now? But…”

“Mehek, we cannot say no,” she said, her tone firm now, though her eyes still held worry. “Not when they are suggesting it happens at their place. Your Baba… he thinks this is good.”

Of course he did.

“But Rohil can’t come so soon,” I said, the thought slipping out before I could stop it.

“He might not be able to,” Maa replied, her voice gentler now. “But he will be there for the wedding.”

Everything was moving too fast.

“Everything is slipping out, Maa,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

“Come out now,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s not talk about this right now. He is waiting outside. And your Kaka and Baba… they will get angry if you don’t come. Don’t do this. It will look like an insult.”

I let out a small, humorless breath. “It always comes down to one thing, right? Not making the men angry.”

She didn’t respond to that.

“Give me a minute,” I said instead. “I’ll wash my face and come out.”

Maa sighed, but she nodded and stepped out, leaving me alone again.

I went to the bathroom and turned on the tap, letting the cold water run over my hands before splashing it onto my face. The shock of it helped, just enough to steady me. I stared at my reflection for a second, my eyes still slightly red, my expression not quite what it should be.

I reached for a little makeup, fixing what I could. Enough to hide. Enough to pass.

Then I stepped out.

The moment I entered the room again, I could feel it.

His eyes.

On me.

I didn’t look up.

I didn’t want to.

After all, there was no love here. He had made that clear. This was an arrangement. Plain and simple. There was nothing more to see, nothing more to expect.

Kaka was saying something, his voice filling the space, but I didn’t really hear him. The words passed over me without staying. My thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

At least I was going to Panchgani.

That was something.

My hands still hurt, a dull ache settling into my fingers and palms. The dough I had kneaded earlier, the vegetables I had cut, the hours spent in the kitchen. Maa had gone all out. The prince charming was coming, after all.

And I had to help.

“Come, let’s have dinner,” Maa said.

I looked up just enough to catch her gesture toward the dining area. Set the table.

I nodded slightly and stood up, moving toward the dining space without a word.

The plates were already laid out on the counter. Silver. All of them. Plates, bowls, even the spoons. Polished till they reflected light cleanly.

Future jamai was here. Of course, everything had to be perfect.

I began placing them one by one, aligning them carefully, adjusting them when they weren’t straight. The soft clink of metal against the table filled the quiet.

I hated all of this. I really did. But at least there was one thing I could hold on to. I could work after marriage. That, at least, was mine.