Radhika posed on Marine Drive, smirking. "Well, driver, impressed or what?"
Arjun Sharma, 45, 1.85 meters, and ~100 kg, leaned back in his Maruti 800, eyeing her. Early 30s, in a ₹12,000 MANGO kurta and an Amrapali clutch worth Meera's splurges, Radhika radiated confidence. But her jab at his age, divorce, and Priya sparked a chuckle. Thinks she's out of my league? he thought.
"Less talk, more moving. I've got a life," Arjun said, winking.
Radhika huffed, tossing her hair. "I'm leagues above your ex-wife!"
Arjun grinned, recalling Meera's "psycho" meltdowns over burnt rotis. "Meera's got you beat on drama," he teased.
Radhika slid into the back, scoffing. "I've got style, uncle."
Arjun revved the engine, Mumbai's sea breeze cutting the humid dusk. "Style? Meera's Bandra tantrums were a spectacle you can't match."
Radhika adjusted her kurta, smirking. "How tall are you? Pretty lanky."
"1.85 meters," Arjun said, catching her glance at his bald spot in the rearview.
"Too bad you're 45. Ten years younger, you might've had a chance," she quipped.
"Ten years younger, I'd still pass," Arjun shot back, laughing. Not falling for this.
Radhika, unfazed, leaned forward. "Your daughter's, what, 19?"
"20, college kid," Arjun said, proud of Priya despite her cold streak.
"Practically my sister!" Radhika giggled, firing off questions about his job and flat, never asking about her. High maintenance, like Meera, Arjun thought. Her ₹12,000 clutch screamed extravagance, likely funded by loans. A sales manager, she probably rubbed shoulders with Colaba's elite, dreaming she was one.
"What's your income?" she prodded.
"You saw, Ola driver. Maybe ₹6,000 a month," Arjun fibbed, hiding the Midlife Mastery System's doubled fares. Yesterday's ₹3,400 haul, plus her ₹50 UPI, left him at ₹19,850.
"₹6,000? Pocket change!" Radhika sneered. "My kurta's ₹8,000, clutch ₹12,000. I pull ₹30,000 a month!"
"So, you save up for that kurta?" Arjun teased.
"It's not one paycheck!" she snapped, flustered. Arjun smirked, betting she was drowning in debt to live her Juhu fantasy. Looking for a rich guy to bail her out.
"Arjun bhai," Radhika cooed, "if you're serious about me, it's doable."
"Come again?" Arjun nearly choked.
"₹10,00,000 dowry, a ₹10,00,000 car—say, a Hyundai Creta—and my name on your flat," she said. "I'd marry you, maybe pop out a kid. For their future, obviously."
Arjun stifled a laugh. Spare tire status? No thanks. His Andheri flat and Maruti 800 weren't her dream deal, and the Midlife Mastery System promised better. "Kid's future? Work ten years, save ₹12,00,000. You'll manage."
Radhika bristled. "If women grind, what're men for?"
"Paying your bills, apparently," Arjun quipped, keeping it light. How'd Meera land me with that attitude?
"You're so cheap, no wonder Meera bailed," Radhika shot back. "I'm not desperate!"
"Sure sound like it," Arjun said. "Meera's 43, now with a 29-year-old Malabar Hill hotshot. Drives a BMW, family's loaded. You're sharper than her—aim higher."
Radhika's eyes sparkled. "How'd she snag him? You're not lying?"
"Saw him at the divorce court," Arjun fibbed, smirking in the rearview. Got her. Radhika, dreaming of her own tycoon, swallowed it whole.
"Wait downstairs after I drop you," she said at her Juhu high-rise. "I'll be back."
"Pay me, and I'll stay," Arjun replied.
"Money, money! No wonder Meera dumped you!" Radhika stormed out, not paying.
Arjun drove off, no reason to wait. Ten minutes later, her WhatsApp pinged: You said you'd wait! So unreliable.
He ignored it, picturing her rant to her roommate: "This 45-year-old driver begged to drive me, then ditched!" Good luck, Radhika, he thought, cruising Marine Drive's neon glow. With ₹19,850, Priya's college covered, and the Midlife Mastery System fueling his hustle, Meera's "psycho" chaos—screaming over spilled chai—was a distant memory. Arjun was free, steering toward a brighter tomorrow.