Aisha stood at the entrance of the Malhotra Mansion, her heart beating like a frightened bird trapped in a cage. The evening sky was dark, clouds covering the moon like a thick blanket. The wind blew gently, but to her, it felt sharp and cold, as if the world itself was warning her to turn back.
But she couldn't.
Her father's face flashed in her mind — pale, weak, lying in the hospital bed. His life depended on treatment they could not afford. And the man she was about to marry… he was the only one who could save him.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her small bag. She took a long breath and stepped forward.
The tall iron gates opened slowly with a deep metallic sound, almost like a growl. A black-suited guard nodded at her and motioned her inside. The path leading to the mansion was long, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and white lights. Everything looked expensive… and intimidating.
When she reached the main door, a middle-aged man with grey hair and a formal suit greeted her with a polite bow.
"Good evening, Miss Aisha," he said calmly. "I am Mr. Rai, the house manager. Sir is expecting you."
Expecting.
Not welcoming.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
Mr. Rai led her through the mansion. The floor beneath her feet was marble, shining like a mirror. The walls held paintings that looked older than her entire existence. There were chandeliers, tall glass windows, and hallways that felt endless.
But everything felt cold.
Too cold.
No warmth.
No laughter.
No life.
It was beautiful… yet empty.
They finally stopped in front of a tall wooden door.
"Sir is inside," Mr. Rai said gently, as if understanding her fear. "Please be honest. And be careful with your words. He dislikes unnecessary drama."
She didn't know whether to thank him or be more afraid after hearing that.
Aisha inhaled shakily and pushed open the door.
The study was dimly lit, the shadows dancing softly on the walls. A tall lamp glowed on the dark wooden desk, where Arjun Malhotra sat, typing on his laptop. He didn't look up. Didn't greet her. Didn't even blink at her presence.
He simply worked… as if she was invisible.
For a full minute, she stood there silently, unsure if she should speak or wait.
Finally, she whispered,
"I… I am here."
Arjun stopped typing.
Slowly — almost lazily — he lifted his eyes to look at her.
His gaze was sharp.
Cold.
Emotionless.
It pierced through her like a blade.
"So you came," he said in a voice that held no surprise. "Sit."
Aisha walked to the chair across from him and sat down carefully, folding her hands in her lap to hide their trembling.
Arjun closed his laptop and leaned back, studying her with a calculating expression. He looked powerful, confident, and completely untouchable. The kind of man who ruled rooms without speaking a word.
"Before you sign anything," he said calmly, "you need to understand the rules of this arrangement."
Rules.
She had expected rules.
But her heart still sank.
Aisha nodded softly. "Okay…"
Arjun's voice was steady and controlled — the voice of a man who had made this decision long before she walked in.
"Rule one," he said. "This marriage is purely a contract. There is no love, no affection, and no expectations beyond the terms written."
Aisha looked down, her vision blurring for a moment.
She had never expected love from him… but hearing the words felt like a slap.
Arjun continued without pausing.
"Rule two: You will live in this mansion. However, you will stay in a separate bedroom. You are not allowed to enter my personal spaces without permission."
She nodded silently.
"Rule three: Do not interfere in my business, my decisions, or my personal matters."
Her throat tightened.
"I won't."
"Rule four: This marriage will last for one year. After that, we will divorce. Quietly. Without creating scandal."
A year.
A whole year with a man who felt colder than winter.
"Rule five," Arjun said slowly, leaning forward slightly, "you will not form any emotional attachment to me. I don't do relationships. I don't do feelings."
Aisha's heart clenched painfully.
She had never intended to fall for him — but his words still hurt.
He looked at her as if testing her reaction.
She didn't speak. Didn't argue.
She simply nodded.
"Good," he said, sitting back with an unreadable expression.
He watched her for a moment longer before pushing a thick file toward her.
"This is the contract. Read every line. If you disagree, you may leave."
Leave?
If only she could.
Her father needed surgery.
She needed money.
She needed stability until she could stand again.
She opened the file with trembling hands.
The pages were filled with legal terms, obligations, and strict conditions. But what hurt her most were the parts where Arjun demanded emotional distance — written clearly like a law.
She read every page because she knew she had to.
When she reached the last page, her fingers hesitated over the signature line.
Her name looked small above Arjun's bold signature.
She was about to bind herself to a stranger.
A cold stranger.
Her heart screamed to run.
Her mind whispered to stay.
Arjun tapped the table impatiently.
"If you don't want to sign," he said flatly, "walk out. I don't force anyone to stay in my life."
Aisha lifted her eyes.
"I'm not staying for you," she said softly. "I'm staying for my father."
For a split second — just a heartbeat — Arjun's expression flickered. She couldn't understand it, but it was gone in an instant.
"Then sign," he said curtly.
Aisha picked up the pen.
Her hand shook.
Her heart pounded.
Her life changed.
With one painful breath, she signed her name.
The ink glistened under the lamp.
Arjun closed the file without emotion.
"Mr. Rai will prepare your room. You will move in tomorrow morning. From now on, you are legally Aisha Malhotra."
He walked toward the door, but paused.
Turning slightly, he looked at her — not kindly, not warmly… but with a strange seriousness.
"You may carry my name," he said quietly, "but don't expect the rights of a wife, Aisha. I don't offer what I can't give."
Her heart twisted again.
Arjun left.
The door clicked shut.
Aisha sat alone in the silent study, staring at the contract that bound her future.
She had stepped into a marriage without love.
Into a house without warmth.
Into a man's world without mercy.
And yet…
somewhere deep inside her…
A tiny whisper told her
This was only the beginning.