I've attended enough weddings to know that most brides cry because of emotion.I, on the other hand, was fighting tears because my veil kept stabbing me in the eye. 🥲
The registrar's office was small, efficient, and smelled faintly of disinfectant and regret.The only witnesses were two lawyers, one terrified intern, and Darian Malhotra looking like he was marrying a quarterly report.
"Smile," he said through clenched teeth as the photographer adjusted the lighting.
I forced a grin so wide it could've been used in toothpaste commercials. "You're lucky I didn't come in sweatpants."
He didn't laugh, obviously. The man had the humor of a statue.
The registrar cleared her throat. "Do you, Mr. Malhotra, take Ms. Sen—"
"Yes," he interrupted.
"—to be your lawfully wedded wife until the terms of contract are fulfilled?"
"I—wait, what?" I blinked.
The registrar coughed politely. "Just a formality, ma'am."
"Oh good," I muttered, "because I was about to lawyer up."
When it was my turn, I managed, "Sure, why not," which earned me a death stare from Darian.
Rings exchanged. Papers signed. Flash. Flash. Flash.And just like that, Lyra Sen, human tornado, became Mrs. Darian Malhotra, corporate scandal management system.
We stepped outside — and of course, the paparazzi were waiting.
Someone shouted, "Mr. Malhotra, was the wedding real?"Another yelled, "Lyra! Are you pregnant?"
I blinked so hard I nearly pulled a muscle. "WHAT?!"
Darian's grip on my hand tightened just enough to warn me."Smile," he murmured, "or they'll eat you alive."
So I did what any self-respecting woman would do when surrounded by flashing lights and chaos — I kissed him.
Just a quick, defiant, oh-so-perfect kiss 💋
The crowd gasped. The photographers went feral. The internet went nuclear.
By the time we reached the car, my phone had already exploded with notifications.
#CancelledBrideNowMarried — #1 TRENDING#PowerCoupleGoals — 2.3 million mentions#WhoIsTheGuyInThePhoto — climbing fast 👀
Inside the car, silence.Darian looked out the window, face unreadable.
I broke it. "So… honeymoon in Paris or prison?"
He turned, deadpan. "We'll start with a press conference."
"Romantic," I said. "Maybe throw in a handcuff set for the aesthetic."
His lips almost twitched. "Try not to make any more viral moments."
"Not my fault I'm photogenic," I said sweetly.
He sighed like a man who regretted every decision since birth.I smiled like a woman who just realized she might actually enjoy ruining his peace.