Page 19 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

The SUV rolled into a shaded parking space on the grounds of the government building where the marriage registrar’s office was located.

Mahika went to open the door, but Vikram’s hand closed around her wrist, stopping her. His grip was firm, but gentle. She glared at him, but he only gave a small shake of his head.

She let out a sigh. “I’m perfectly capable of opening the door.”

“I don’t doubt that.” His voice was smooth. “But I’m here. So you don’t have to.”

There was something about the gesture; it was not arrogance, it was not dominance, but an old-fashioned, gentlemanly instinct.

And that was the most baffling part. She hadn’t believed Vikram Khurana had a single courteous bone in his body.

With a quiet sigh, she let him have his way, watching as he stepped out first and circled around to open the door for her.

The moment she stepped out, her gaze landed on Mohit and Ishika.

Mohit stood by his car, arms crossed, watching her with that caring gaze she knew so well.

He had been her anchor for as long as she could remember.

Her responsible, overprotective big brother, always showed up when it mattered the most. She felt the tension in her chest dissipate as she approached her brother and gave him a quick, reassuring hug.

“I’ll see you inside, babe,” Ishika murmured, her fingers tightening around Mahika’s hand for a heartbeat before she moved towards the office doors. Mahika nodded, giving her a grateful squeeze in return.

Just as she turned back to Mohit, it hit her…

that familiar prickle at the back of her neck.

The eerie tingle that told her she wasn’t alone.

It felt like invisible eyes were staring at her, their gaze crawling up her back.

She couldn’t explain it, this feeling of paranoia she always felt, especially in public places.

It had haunted her for a year now. It could be nothing.

Maybe she was just being crazy, letting her mind run wild with impossible thoughts.

Or maybe there really was someone out there, watching.

She shook her head as if to ward the thoughts away, and glanced at Mohit. “Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey, drama queen,” Mohit replied, ruffling her hair fondly.

She pulled back with a half-smile and gave him a light shove. “Don’t call me that.”

He shrugged with a grin. Mahika’s eyes drifted to Vikram standing by the door, realising he was giving them space, before returning to Mohit.

“So you and Vikram… you guys okay?” she asked.

Mohit let out a breath. “Kind of. We didn’t exactly hug it out, but we’re getting there.”

She gave a quiet nod. “That’s progress.”

“Listen, Mahi, that day when I punched Vikram… yeah, I lost it. I was angry. Angry that you were being pushed into something you didn’t ask for. And I’ll admit I was pissed about the share percentage too. He left, practically vanished for years, and somehow still ended up with more.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I do. But then I thought about it. It was Suraj who messed up. Vikram is just trying to fix the mess he’s made. He’s doing what needs to be done. For the company, and for the family.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand.

“I’m your big brother. It’s my job to protect you.

To make sure you’re okay. And the more I think about it, the more I believe you’re safe with Vikram.

And who knows? You might even be happy. He’s not perfect, and I’m not gonna lie about it.

But he’s loyal. And even if he’s too stubborn to say it out loud, he cares about you. ”

Her throat tightened. “This isn’t ideal. But… what am I even supposed to say?”

“Nothing. For what it’s worth, I think he’s always had a thing for you.”

She scoffed. “That’s a really terrible joke.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve had this hunch for years. I could be wrong, but I think there’s some truth in that.”

Mahika looked down, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to think about that. He’s a cocky control freak and totally unreadable. I’m not sure how this’ll pan out. I’m just… winging it.”

Mohit’s eyes flicked between her and Vikram, as if he was trying to read them both. “I don’t think you have to worry about that at all...” He paused, then asked softly, “Ready?”

She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway.

Inside, the building carried the musty scent of old paper and the sharp tang of ink. The high, sloping ceilings made the faint hum of ceiling fans seem louder, their rhythmic creak mingling with the soft shuffle of clerks moving around.

She hadn’t expected the unexpected warmth she felt when she looked at the registrar’s desk.

There was a small bouquet of fresh lilies and roses, tied with a golden ribbon.

On a tray sat two lovely garlands made from orchids and dark red roses.

And there was a young man by the desk, adjusting the lens of a high-end DSLR.

A cheerful, middle-aged clerk greeted them with a wide smile.

“Hello, Mr. Khurana,” he said, gesturing towards the flowers. “We wanted to wish you good luck with your new life, so here’s a little something from us.”

Vikram acknowledged it with quiet appreciation. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Mr. Gupta.”

It was a small gesture, but it stirred something in Mahika, pushing away the tension that had gripped her all morning.

“My pleasure. Even a small wedding deserves forever memories. We’ve set up a photoshoot for you. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course.” A rare, genuine smile lit up Vikram’s face as he replied, “You’re absolutely right.”

Mahika was taken aback. For once, he didn’t seem like the arrogant, overly sharp, guarded man she was used to.

He appeared composed, gracious, polite, and even warm.

And in that moment, she realised Vikram Khurana was far more complex than she’d ever imagined—someone who revealed different shades of himself depending on the moment.

She tried to shrug off her nerves, convincing herself she was fine… until her hands betrayed her, trembling for no reason. Her eyes landed on a man in a white shirt at the desk, shuffling through papers, and her stomach churned.

This was it.

She gripped her bag strap tightly, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

Then, without warning, a strong hand covered hers, and her mind went blank.

She looked down and saw Vikram’s hand covering hers, firm yet gentle, as he loosened her grip on the strap.

Without a word, he took her bag and handed it to a young man standing nearby.

She barely registered the other dude. It was Vikram’s assistant, Gaurav, quietly standing in the corner. She had seen him at work before, but they had never formally met.

“Gaurav, can you hold this?” Vikram’s question was threaded with command.

Gaurav smiled politely at Mahika and said, “Yeah, sure.”

She didn’t know why, but Vikram taking charge calmed her in a way she’d never expected. How the hell did he pull that off?

“Shall we begin?” the man behind the desk asked, adjusting his spectacles. He looked at them both expectantly.

Vikram nodded, and the man continued, clearing his throat, “Sign here.”

Mahika’s pulse raced as she bent over the page, her hand trembling ever so slightly as she signed her name. Vikram was next, signing his name with his usual confident flair, as though he was just sealing another deal.

Then the man across the table turned the register toward the witnesses.

Mohit and a man Mahika didn’t recognise came forward and signed quietly. A moment later, the clerk added his signature and then stamped it with the official government seal, finalising the document.

Looking up, the registrar announced, “With this, you are now legally married. You can exchange rings and garlands now.”

Gaurav handed Vikram a small velvet box, while Mohit passed another to Mahika. She blinked at it, realising, absurdly that she hadn’t even thought about the rings. The signatures, the silence, the tension…it had all been a blur, and now this.

She opened the box meant for Vikram and found a plain, gold band nestled inside. Clean, classic, no-nonsense. An odd feeling tugged at her heart, but she brushed it off. This wasn’t an actual wedding. There was no reason to feel disappointed.

And then Vikram opened his box.

The ring inside was vintage, unmistakably so. A delicate gold band with intricate filigree, catching the light with a quiet, old-world shimmer. Her heart stuttered.

She knew that ring.

Suraj had once shown her a photograph of their grandmother wearing it. It was a family heirloom, passed down through generations of Khurana women. And now… it sat in a box meant for her, Vikram’s temporary wife.

Her breath caught.

Why would Vikram give her such a valuable and personal item?

Before she could even react, Vikram pulled out the ring and reached for her hand.

His touch was firm, his fingers were warm on her skin.

He slipped the heirloom ring onto her ring finger without hesitation.

There was no flicker of emotion on his face.

It was, as usual, unreadable, as if this meant nothing, as if he hadn’t just offered her a piece of his family’s legacy.

Her heart racing, she then opened her own box and reached for Vikram’s outstretched hand and slipped the ring onto his finger, completing the quiet exchange.

“Now, you can tie the mangalsutra if you have it,” the man behind the desk said.

Gaurav handed Vikram a delicate gold chain threaded with black beads, with a small square diamond pendant at its centre. It glinted softly in his palm.

Mahika’s throat tightened as Vikram stepped closer and stood directly in front of her.

He gently swept her hair aside and fastened the mangalsutra around her neck.

His fingers brushed the skin at the nape of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

He stepped back, and the traditional symbol of their union now rested against her collarbone.

Then came the garlands. They were beautiful, and their floral scent filled the entire room.

As the soft rustle of papers and murmurs surrounded them, Mahika realised that even if this was just a formality, a document signed out of obligation, it marked the beginning of a new chapter in her life. At least for a year.

Vikram gave her an intense, unreadable look.

But she saw something softer under his controlled act.

It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either.

The look stirred something uncertain within her.

Then slowly, the tight knot of nerves in her chest loosened, like a clenched fist finally opening.

It faded into a soft feeling, like a bit of hope she didn’t think she’d ever feel.

She finally came to terms with being Mahika Khurana at this very moment.

People mumbled their congratulations and well wishes, and they both just nodded, saying thanks on autopilot. Mahika appeared calm, but inside, she was freaking out.

“Alright, let’s click a few photos,” someone said, gesturing to the photographer.

Before Mahika was ready, Vikram closed the gap between them, their arms brushing as he moved. His body heat slid under her skin like a current.

“Move closer,” the photographer urged. “Come on, you just got married.”

Before she could say anything, Vikram wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

The contact was startling. It felt overly intimate and familiar.

She gasped, her body acting instinctively before she could think.

It wasn’t a romantic touch, but it wasn’t completely platonic.

He knew what he was doing to her, and he was doing it on purpose.

“Relax,” he murmured at her temple, his voice dark and velvety.

The photographer clicked a few pictures and spoke, “Now look at each other.”

Mahika slowly turned to Vikram to find him already looking at her.

His gaze wasn’t smug. It was even and focused. He watched her so intently, as if he were trying to read her mind.

She felt a brief flutter inside her tummy.

Click.

“Please, hold hands now.”

Vikram reached for her hand as if he’d done it a million times before. And she almost forgot how to breathe.

“One last pose. Bride’s hands on the groom’s chest, groom’s hands on her waist. Look at each other and smile.”

Mahika hesitated. Vikram’s eyebrow arched slightly in silent command.

She placed her palms on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, a stark contrast to the frantic beat of her own. His hand settled on her waist again, his grip possessive as it spread across the curve of her back. His thumb grazed her exposed skin in a subtle gesture that burned through the fabric.

Her body stiffened, the tension palpable, and his lips curved up in amusement, indicating he was enjoying this way too much. Then, he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her knuckles briefly brushing against the soft edge of her jaw.

A gasp escaped her lips as she inhaled sharply.

“Relax, Mrs. Khurana,” he smirked. “We wouldn’t want this to look like a hostage situation, would we?”

She whispered, shooting him a sharp glare. “Unlike you, I skipped the class where they taught you how to fake it like a pro.”

He smiled, and she resisted the very real urge to slap his annoyingly chiselled face. Right before the camera flashed, he pulled her closer, and she blinked like an idiot. Wow. Great.

“You spoiled my picture,” she grumbled with a frown. “I blinked.”

“One ruined photo is a small price to pay for standing this close to perfection.”

She muttered under her breath, “Human migraine in a suit.”

“Well, that migraine is now your husband, Momo,” he stated, leaning closer with obvious smugness. “And trust me, there’s no cure for it.”

Click.

The photographer straightened with a wide grin. “Perfect. These came out beautifully.”

Vikram stepped back, removing his hand from her waist. The space between them returned, and she felt colder than expected.

Mahika tried not to think about the forlorn feeling.

She kept telling herself it meant nothing.

It was only for the photos, a brief formality.

She tried to drill into her brain that their charade was purely for the cameras and societal appearances.

There was nothing else besides that. That’s what she clung to, as if it were the only lifeline keeping her from unravelling.