The city was buzzing that day. The sky didn't weep, nor did it shine—it was just... still. Like it, too, was holding its breath, watching two people stand at the altar with smiles stitched onto their faces and hearts pounding for completely different reasons.
Minya adjusted the delicate gold chain around her neck as the priest's voice echoed through the grand hall. Her white lehenga shimmered softly under the light, but nothing could hide the stiffness in her shoulders or the hollow look in her eyes.
Across from her, Kevin stood tall in a tailored cream sherwani, handsome as ever. That same smirk was still etched on his face, the one that once made her heart flutter, but now—it was unreadable. Cold. Distant.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest said, and polite applause rose around them.
Kevin's mother, weak from her recent health scare but glowing with joy, reached forward from her wheelchair to place her hand over both of theirs.
"My dream... has come true," she whispered, eyes misty. "You two... finally together. Just like it was meant to be."
Minya smiled at her, eyes burning. She would do anything for this woman—anything. She had, after all, been the only mother figure Minya had ever known. But standing next to Kevin, her childhood best friend turned stranger, everything felt like a performance. Because it was.
The drive back from the venue was silent. Kevin kept his eyes on the road, fingers tight on the steering wheel, while Minya stared out of the window.
"You can stop pretending now," Kevin said suddenly.
Minya turned to him. "Pretending what?"
"That you're happy." He glanced at her briefly. "I know you didn't want this."
Minya looked away. "Neither did you."
He chuckled bitterly. "At least we agree on something."
The apartment they moved into was spacious and elegant, a gift from Kevin's mother—and one more trap in this elaborate lie.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Kevin walked ahead, loosening the buttons of his sherwani.
"You can take the master bedroom," he said, without looking at her.
She blinked. "And where will you sleep?"
He tossed a pillow toward the couch. "There's enough space here for my fake husband duties."
Minya crossed her arms. "You don't need to be rude."
"And you don't need to act like this marriage means something," he shot back.
Her heart clenched. "I never said it did."
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you? You agreed pretty quickly when Mom said she wanted us to marry."
Minya's voice dropped. "Because I love her. And I didn't want to break her heart."
He stepped closer, eyes dark. "But you broke mine years ago. Or did you forget?"
Her breath caught. The accusation in his voice was sharp enough to cut air. She looked away, unwilling to cry on their wedding night—not again.
"I never meant to hurt you," she whispered.
"Of course you didn't," Kevin said, sarcasm thick in his tone. "Just like you didn't mean to lie, didn't mean to push me away, didn't mean to ruin everything."
That night, they slept in separate rooms. Or rather— thuhe on the couch, she curled up in bed with memories too loud to ignore.
She remembered him laughing with her in the rain, giving her his last candy in 5th grade, helping her with her college application, and holding her when she failed her first interview. All those late nights watching movies, teasing each other, and feeling safe.
And then... nothing. Silence. Distance. His anger.
His ex-girlfriend's words haunted her still. "He doesn't need a charity case like you hanging around. You're in the way, Minya."
Minya had left because she believed it was best for him. Because he looked so happy with her. She never told him the truth.
And now here they were—married.
But not in love.
The next morning, Kevin's mom called them to breakfast.
"You two look good together," she said sweetly, sipping her tea.
Minya offered a soft smile, hiding how exhausted she felt. Kevin slid into the chair beside her and casually reached for her hand under the table.
She jerked in surprise.
"Play along," he murmured under his breath. "Unless you want to explain to her that our marriage is a joke."
His fingers wrapped around hers. Warm. Firm. Familiar. Too familiar.
Her cheeks flushed, and his mother noticed.
"Oh, Minya," she beamed. "You're glowing already."
Kevin gave her a side glance, amused by her discomfort. "She always blushes when I hold her hand. Some things never change."
Minya gritted her teeth, digging her nail into his palm. He winced but didn't let go.
That became the routine.
In front of his mother? The perfect couple. He'd pull out her chair, place a hand on her back, and compliment her scarf. "Doesn't she look beautiful today, Mom?"
In private? A war zone.
"I nearly stabbed you with a spoon," Minya muttered once, after he tried feeding her dessert in front of his mom.
Kevin grinned. "But you didn't. So that means you're falling for me again."
"Or building tolerance for pain," she snapped.
They argued over everything. The thermostat. Whose turn it was to do dishes. Who left the toothpaste cap off?
"You have zero house skills," she said one night.
"I didn't marry you for housekeeping," he replied.
She rolled her eyes. "Right, you married me for revenge."
Kevin froze for a second. "Exactly."
But things weren't always bitter.
Sometimes, they were... confusing.
Like when he helped dry her hair one morning because she had a headache.
Or when he defended her in front of his coworkers at a dinner party.
Or the time they fell asleep on the same couch, a movie playing between them, her head on his shoulder.
Sometimes, he looked at her when she wasn't noticing. And when she turned, he looked away too quickly.
She started to see the old Kevin again. Just glimpses. A smile here. A laugh there. The way he used to bring her mango candies because she loved them as a kid.
He was still in there. Somewhere.
So was her heart. Still bruised. Still wanting him.
But she had learned long ago—wanting someone and having them were two very different things.
And Kevin?
He watched her from the corner of his eye every day.
Watched how she smiled for his mom.
How she hummed when doing chores.
How she tied her hair when concentrating.
How she bit her lip when nervous.
And how, no matter what, she never let her sadness show in public.
He told himself it didn't matter. That this was just a role they were playing. That he'd get what he wanted—her heartbreak—and then walk away.
But sometimes… he forgot what revenge was even for.
Especially when she looked at him with those eyes.