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“Which dresses?” He asks curiously.

“The ones you changed. The red ones.”

“Red?” He laughs. “Are you kidding me? You know I hate that color. Why would I gift you red dresses?”

I am confused. I tell him about the store sending me the red outfits, and he laughs again.

“Maybe the store sent you the wrong parcel. Anyways, check with them. I will call you later. Bye.”

Before I could dig further, he drops the call. He didn’t buy them for me? How can the store people make this mistake? What about the note then? I don’t ponder much and dial the store manager whose card I had in my purse.

“Mr. Prakash. Hi. This is Jhanvi Sikand.”

“Yes, Miss Sikand. I hope you got your outfits delivered and they fit you well. If you have any more alterations to be done, I can send the designer home.”

“Thanks. But these aren’t the clothes I shopped for in your store.”

He laughs.

“I know. That’s exactly what we told Mr. Raichand, but he was very much adamant to buy his choice of clothes for you. He said he wants everything in red and every dress that we sent you, Mr. Raichand has chosen himself.”

I freeze!! What is he talking about?

“But when did Mohit visit your store? He flew to Dubai this morning,” I debated.

“No Ma’am. I am not talking about Mohit Raichand, but your would-be husband, Aarav Raichand. He came to the store last evening and selected these dresses for you.”

Aarav? Aarav sent me these? How dare he? And why did he introduce himself as my fiancée? That man is really getting on my nerves now. How can he fake to this extent? I disconnect the call and then pack the outfits again in the bags. If he thinks he can impress me with such acts, he is wrong. I’ll make sure this is the last time he is messing with me. I grab the bags and head out.

CHAPTER 4

Aarav

“Aarav Raichand.”

I hear Jhanvi’s voice from the living room of my mansion. Thankfully, I just finished an important business call before her sweet sultry voice could disturb me. I press my palms over the railing of the first-floor lobby where I am currently standing and staring at her. Jhanvi looks furious, annoyed and the bags are still in her grip. I knew she would go mad knowing I sent her dresses and that I even addressed her as my would-be wife in that note, but I never thought she would come up straight here.

“You are late.” I tease. “I expected you here early.”

She glares at me, raising her chin to an angle so that she could see me clearly at the top.

“Will you come down or should I come up there?” she shouts.

I laugh. “Totally your call, Jaan. This house belongs to you, so you don’t need my permission to go anywhere you want.”

As expected, her cheeks turn red in anger. Did I call herJaan? Yeah, I did. It means life. But more than its significance, I am glad that nickname annoyed her. She throws the bags on the couch aside and strolls toward the stairs. I don’t move an inch from the lobby and wait for her to reach me. The moment she does, Jhanvi points her finger to my face.

“Don’t you dare call me nicknames.”

“Why not?” I retort. “My mouth, my fiancée. I can call you whatever names I like and ‘Jaan’suits you. It’s the cutest short form of your name. Soon, you will be both my wife and life. So why not?”

Her frown deepens.

“Are you on drugs? Which language do you even understand? I am marrying your stepbrother. Thank me I haven’t spoken to Mohit and Daadi about all this nuisance of yours, otherwise, they wouldn’t have spared you.”

I laugh again, harder this time.

She keeps staring at me, annoyed and clenching her jaw.

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