If someone had told me that marriage came with an instruction manual, I'd have laughed. But now, living with Darian Malhotra, I think it should come with warning labels.⚠️ Contents may include arrogance, emotional constipation, and excessive good looks.
It's been three days since our viral wedding, and I've officially moved into his penthouse — or, as I like to call it, The Palace of Pretentious Perfection.
The apartment looks like it was designed by someone allergic to color. Everything is monochrome: grey, black, white. Even the flowers are white — fake white lilies that never die, just like his sense of superiority.
My room—sorry, our room—is enormous, but divided like the India-Pakistan border. His side looks like a minimalist art gallery. Mine? A warzone of pink cushions, snacks, and scented candles. The housekeeper nearly fainted when I unpacked a teddy bear. 🧸
"You're turning my space into a teenager's Pinterest board," Darian muttered last night.
"And you're turning my life into a LinkedIn post," I'd shot back.
He didn't reply. He just poured himself another espresso, which I'm convinced is his emotional support drink.
This morning, I wake up to the sound of his voice — crisp, commanding, and irritatingly sexy. He's pacing the balcony on a business call. I can hear every word.
"No, Rajiv, I said cut the losses. We don't invest in unstable startups."Pause."Yes, I know my wife went viral. That's irrelevant to the merger!"
I smirk under the blanket. "Actually, it's very relevant," I mumble to myself.
When he finally ends the call, I stretch like a cat and yawn loudly enough for him to hear. "Morning, Mr. CEO of Emotional Damage."
He glances at me, unimpressed. "You drooled on the pillow again."
I gasp. "That's a rumor spread by haters."
He rolls his eyes. "We have a brand meeting at eleven. Wear something decent."
"Define decent."
"Something that doesn't make the board faint."
"So… not this?" I gesture to my fuzzy purple pajamas that say 'Sarcasm Queen' across the front.
He stares at me for a solid five seconds. "God help me."
At breakfast, the tension between us could curdle milk.
He eats his avocado toast like it personally offends him, and I sip my coffee dramatically just to annoy him.
The silence is interrupted when the TV suddenly switches to a gossip channel. Our wedding clip plays again — my kiss, the flashes, the screaming fans.
The anchor says cheerfully,
"India's favorite power couple seems to be adjusting to married life beautifully! Rumor has it they're sharing a penthouse and lots of love!"
I choke on my coffee. "Lots of love? We share Wi-Fi, not feelings!"
Darian doesn't even blink. "Mute it."
I grab the remote and crank up the volume instead.
"And sources say Mrs. Malhotra may be considering launching her own influencer line!"
I freeze. "Wait—what?"
Darian narrows his eyes. "Are you?"
"I might be now!" I grin. "If my fake marriage can sell jewelry, imagine what it could do for lipstick!"
He sighs. "You are not turning our scandal into a brand."
"Oh come on," I tease. "You handle the corporations, I handle the chaos."
His jaw flexes. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Someone has to. You're allergic to fun."
By noon, we arrive at the Malhotra headquarters — the holy temple of stress.Darian's employees bow like he's royalty. One brave intern sneaks a selfie when she thinks he isn't looking. (Spoiler: he noticed. She will be spiritually fired.)
I follow him into a boardroom full of executives who stare at me like I'm the human version of a PR crisis.
"Mrs. Malhotra," one of them greets awkwardly.
"Please," I say brightly. "Call me the reason your stocks didn't drop this week."
The room goes silent. Somewhere, a pen drops.
Darian covers his face with his hand. "Ignore her."
"Impossible," I whisper.
After the meeting, he practically drags me back into the elevator."What was that?" he hisses.
"I call it public relations," I say, flipping my hair. "You call it trauma."
"You embarrassed me."
I grin. "You're welcome. Keeps you humble."
The elevator dings open, and we step out to flashing cameras. The paparazzi are waiting outside like vultures dressed in denim.
"Mr. Malhotra! Mrs. Malhotra! Over here!"
Darian stiffens. "Don't say anything stupid."
I smile sweetly. "Define stupid."
Before he can stop me, a reporter shoves a mic in my face."Mrs. Malhotra, what's married life like with the country's most eligible CEO?"
I beam at the camera. "It's exhausting. He schedules date nights like board meetings." 😇
The reporters burst out laughing. Cameras flash. Darian's soul visibly leaves his body.
He grabs my hand and practically drags me into the car."You're impossible!" he mutters.
"Funny, you said that yesterday," I chirp.
"Lyra—"
"Relax," I interrupt. "The people love us. You should thank me."
He turns to me, eyes sharp. "You think this is a joke?"
I lean back, smiling lazily. "No. I think it's content."
He glares for a moment, then surprisingly… laughs. A small, genuine, exhausted laugh.
"Well," he says, shaking his head, "at least one of us is having fun."
"Oh, don't worry," I say, grinning. "By the end of this, you will too."
That night, I collapse onto my half of the bed, scrolling through the chaos online.
#CoupleGoals is trending again. There's a video clip of me roasting him at the press event with the caption "Queen Behavior 👑."
Underneath, someone commented:
"If this is fake love, I want one too."
I chuckle. The internet is delusional, but at least it's entertaining.
My phone buzzes — another text from the same unknown number.
Keep smiling, Mrs. Malhotra. The real story hasn't even started yet.
I stare at it for a long second, then delete it.I don't need more mysteries. My life is already a circus with free popcorn. 🍿
I glance at Darian — he's asleep, tie still on, hand resting on his laptop. Even in his dreams, he probably monitors spreadsheets.
For a fleeting moment, I wonder what it would be like to see him laugh — not the polite CEO chuckle, but a real, unguarded one.
Then I shake my head. Nope. That way lies danger. And maybe feelings. Ew.
So instead, I whisper to myself, "Goodnight, Mr. Malhotra. May your nightmares feature me." 😈