Chapter 7

Aadhya’s POV

By the time I reached home, the day still hadn’t left me.

Not my body.

My mind.

Something about the last few hours felt unsettled, like a conversation had started somewhere and never truly ended.

“Maa, I’m home,” I called out, placing my bag near the sofa.

She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her dupatta, her eyes scanning my face the way only a mother’s eyes could.

“You look tired,” she said immediately. “Did you eat?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Just office work.”

That was when I noticed the extra footwear near the door.

My aunt’s and my cousin’s.

I looked up again.

“Maa?” I asked slowly. “Why is everyone here?”

She hesitated for a second before answering. “Come, sit. We need to talk.”

That sentence alone made my stomach tighten.

I sat down at the dining table, already sensing where this was heading

My aunt smiled first. “Aadhya, a very good proposal came today. The boy works in Bangalore, software engineer, well-settled, good family. We spoke to his parents already.”

There it was. I let out a slow breath. “Maa, please don’t start this.”

“Just listen once,” she said gently. “You’re twenty-six now. You have a good career. We can’t keep ignoring these things.”

“I’m not ignoring them,” I replied. “I’m choosing not to rush.”

My cousin laughed softly. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” I said, my voice firmer now.

Maa looked at me carefully. “Is there someone in your life?”

The question hit unexpectedly.

“No,” I answered immediately. “There’s no one.”

“Then what’s the problem?” my aunt asked. “Why are you so against it?”

I searched for the right words. Because I don’t want to belong to someone yet.

Because I’m not ready to fit into someone else’s life.

Because something inside me wants space.

But all I said was, “I’m not ready, Maa. That’s it.”

She sighed. “At least talk to the boy once.”

I shook my head. “Please don’t force this. I want to decide my life when I feel right about it. Not because it’s time.”

The room fell quiet. After a few seconds, Maa nodded. “Okay. But don’t keep saying no forever.”

That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. Thinking about proposals. About futures that hadn’t happened yet.

And somehow, about Advik. The way he had looked at me lately. Not just professionally. Something else.

The next morning, my phone started ringing before I even entered the office.

Maa.

I didn’t answer. I knew what she wanted to say.

The call came again during the first meeting of the day. I ignored it again.

By the third time, my phone vibrated loudly on the table between me and Advik.

We were discussing new investor proposals. He was going through the file, focused, calm, completely in control.

My phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen.

Then at me.

“You should answer it,” he said quietly.

“It’s not urgent,” I replied.

He closed the file slowly. “If someone calls this many times, it usually is.”

I hesitated. Then picked up.

“Yes, Maa?”

I stood up slightly and moved a little away.

“Yes, I told you yesterday… No, I’m not changing my mind… Maa, please understand… I don’t want to talk to him.”

There was a pause.

“I don’t care how good he is. I’m not ready.”

Another pause.

“No, there’s no one else. This is my decision.”

I turned a little and realised Advik was still listening.

Lowered my voice. “Please stop pushing this. I’ll get married when I feel right, not because everyone expects me to.”

I ended the call and walked back.

“I am sorry,” I said. “We can continue.”

But the atmosphere had changed. Advik wasn’t looking at the file anymore. He was looking at me. Too Directly.

“You received a marriage proposal,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And you refused it.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The way he asked made something tighten inside my chest.

“Because I don’t want to decide my life under pressure,” I replied. “And because I’m not ready.”

“And if you were ready?” he asked after a moment.

“Ready for what?”

“For marriage.”

I frowned slightly. “Then I’d marry someone I choose. Someone who respects my work, my space, my voice.”

He leaned back in his chair.

“So you believe in choosing.”

“I believe in not being forced,” I corrected.

“And if your family insists?”

“They can’t,” I said. “I won’t allow it.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“Even if the man is influential?” he asked quietly.

I met his gaze without hesitation. “Especially then.”

The words hung between us.

His jaw tightened slightly.

“And what if someone wants you enough to make sure you don’t walk away?” he asked.

My heart skipped, just a little.

“That’s not care,” I said softly. “That’s control.”

For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately.

He stood up and walked toward the window.

The city reflected in the glass behind him.

“Sometimes,” he said slowly, “people don’t realise what they want until they see it slipping.”

I watched his reflection.

Calm face.

Steady posture.

But the air felt different.

“I won’t marry someone just because they want me,” I said. “No matter who they are.”

He turned slightly. Looked at me again. And in that look, something shifted.

“You are very sure of yourself,” he said.

“I have to be,” I replied. “Otherwise people decide my life for me.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“And what if someone decides he wants to be part of it instead?”

The question felt too personal to be professional.

I didn’t answer.

Because suddenly, I wasn’t sure if he was talking about someone else.

Or himself.

“I need to go prepare the next file,” I said finally.

He nodded. “You may.”

I walked out, but the feeling followed me.

That I had said something important without realising it.

That I had drawn a line.

And somewhere behind me, a man who never accepted limits had just decided where he wanted to stand.

I didn’t know it yet.

But the conversation I thought was harmless had already changed the direction of my life.