Page 18 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

Mahika sat stiffly in the backseat of Vikram’s SUV, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as the familiar streets of Dehradun blurred past the window. It was impossible not to think of Suraj while sitting next to the man who had always resented her bond with him. God, she missed her best friend.

Suraj had always been there for her, just as Ishika had.

Ishika was the wild one, reckless and loud.

Suraj, in contrast, was all calm strength and easy warmth.

He grounded Mahika when she drifted too far, and Ishika yanked her back into chaos when she grew too rigid.

With the two of them, she’d always felt balanced.

Suraj soothed her fire, while Ishika matched it.

And no one, not even Mahika herself, understood how deeply she needed both until everything fell apart.

As the car rolled past cafés and bungalows in the upscale part of the city, she lifted her hand to block the glare of the morning sun. Everything outside looked so calm, so deceptively normal, for a day that was anything but.

Dressed in a red saree with a gold border, she looked every bit the composed, formidable woman she wanted the world to see.

The outfit seemed better suited for someone else’s wedding.

But today wasn’t someone else’s day. It was hers.

Her own wedding, which was going to be sealed with nothing more than a few signatures on paper.

She’d once dreamed of marrying someone she loved, of planning the shenanigans for months with all the usual chaos: relatives, decorations, dress fittings, food tastings, and music.

But this… this wasn’t a wedding. It was a transaction.

A government office, a few signatures, and an official conducting the proceedings as though negotiating a business merger rather than a marriage.

Vikram sat next to her, looking powerful and relaxed in his suit, with one arm draped casually over the back of the seat. He stared blankly at his phone, as if he’d already nailed the deal.

A wave of nausea washed over her as the reality of marrying him sank in. Fuck.

Vikram… a man she had spent years hating with every fibre of her being.

And the worst part was that this so-called hatred wasn’t because he was arrogant, infuriating, or had an insufferably sharp tongue.

The truth was far more embarrassing. While Vikram smugly assumed she had a crush on Suraj, it was never the case.

She had always been hopelessly, foolishly drawn to Vikram.

That unspoken attraction was raw, confusing, and had taken a darker turn during her eighteenth birthday.

That night was supposed to be perfect, a milestone that made her feel closer to the woman she was becoming.

She’d wanted to look grown up, just in case Vikram showed up.

And he had.

Vikram had shown up, looking ridiculously tall and hot in a grey shirt and black jeans, and strolled into the party alongside her brother.

For a moment, the sight of him had completely overwhelmed her.

He’d been in town for some work, and her silly heart had hoped, just for a second, that he’d come to see her.

Mahika had masked her not-so-subtle crush behind a carefree smile as Ishika and Suraj teased her crazily about it.

And honestly, she hadn’t cared. Not when the thrill of seeing Vikram in her home, the very air buzzing with his presence at her birthday party, had left her dizzy with possibility.

It had been her first real crush, strong and all-consuming.

But whenever they were together, he’d always hurt her with his mean, careless words, leaving her confused.

She’d never understood why he hated her so much.

Then it all came rushing back… how crushed she had felt standing in her own backyard, watching the boy she secretly adored tangled with another girl like it was nothing.

He hadn’t just been kissing her; he’d been touching and pounding into that girl right there in the corner, completely oblivious to anyone else.

Mahika had frozen, taking in the scene, unable to move, utterly heartbroken.

Later, she found out he’d actually brought his girlfriend to her eighteenth birthday party.

His fucking girlfriend. She’d been more affected by the brazenness of the act than she cared to admit.

He hadn’t just broken her heart; he’d humiliated her too.

He had no idea how important that day was for her.

She had worn that red dress just for him, and had spent weeks practicing what she would say if she got the chance. But she never did.

She was never quite the same after that.

What had once been a quiet, innocent crush on Vikram had twisted into something bitter.

The attraction morphed into slow, simmering anger.

Resentment became her shield, a more manageable emotion than heartbreak.

It was easier to act like she didn’t care than to admit he had broken her heart without ever realising it.

She let out a breath and shook her head, hoping to shake off all those annoying teenage feelings. Then her gaze landed on the green abomination he had thrust at her first thing in the morning when she had opened the door. Panic bubbled up inside her.

Good God, he had another one waiting in the car as well.

She rolled her eyes internally.

“Why are you staring at it like it’s a time bomb?” Vikram’s voice carried that infuriating edge of amusement that always made her so mad.

“Because it might as well be. Who in their right mind drinks neon green smoothies?” she shot back.

“It’s not neon. It’s... vibrant.”

“It’s radioactive.” She deadpanned.

“It’s healthy.”

“It looks like something you scraped off the bottom of a pond.”

“That’s Moringaceae,” he said in that maddeningly calm tone.

“Are you speaking Latin now?”

“That’s the scientific name for Moringa,” he explained slowly, like he was talking to a five-year-old. “It’s one of the ingredients in this smoothie.”

She gaped at him. “That’s worse. You’re actually putting pond scum in a blender and calling it breakfast. Eww.” She wrinkled her nose. “Mori–whatever. It sounds like the name of an algae, not a drink.”

“It’s a superfood,” he replied.

“Super disgusting.”

He tilted his head, calm as ever. “You know, most people just say thank you when someone hands them a drink.”

“Most people don’t try poisoning their childhood nemesis before noon,” she retorted.

“Poison?” His brow arched faintly. “That’s moringa, spinach, and kale smoothie. People pay good money for that in cafés.”

“People also pay good money for therapy… after drinking kale.”

For the first time, the corner of his mouth curved. Barely, but enough for her to notice. “So dramatic.”

“And you’re too calm about this. No one should be this calm about drinking liquefied ghaas-poos.”

She threw him a look, wondering how he could be so effortlessly calm, like he was the supreme ruler of chill. Irritation bubbled up before she could stop it, and she turned to him.

“You’re acting like we’re going out for some casual errand,” she muttered, breaking the heavy silence.

Vikram paused mid-scroll, then glanced up at her, a strange glint in his eyes.

“Would you rather I bring a baraat to the registrar’s office?”

“I’d rather you stopped acting like this is as normal as grabbing a cup of chai from the corner stall.”

“It is normal. We walk in, sign the papers, and walk out married. Simple.”

She wanted to scream. Nothing about this was simple.

Not the way they were always at each other’s throats.

Not the way he always looked at her. Not the way her body betrayed her every time he got too close.

And certainly not the way her mind refused to stop spiralling, dreading and craving whatever was about to come next.

She wasn’t ready for this. But she would do it anyway. For the beach house she had always been promised, and for the life she had always dreamed of.

Because in their world, readiness never really mattered.

Only going through with it did.