An Arranged Marriage

Bound by Expectations

Misha Oberoi sat in her father’s office, staring blankly at the wall adorned with framed photographs of the Oberoi Fashion Empire. The room smelled of expensive cologne, polished leather, and power—everything that represented her family. Yet, today, all of it felt heavy, suffocating.

“Misha,” her father’s voice cut through her thoughts, stern and unyielding. Pranav Oberoi wasn’t a man who took no for an answer. He ran Oberoi Fashion with an iron fist, and now, it seemed, he was about to do the same with her life. “This marriage with Kartik Poddar is not a request. It’s an expectation.”

She swallowed hard, keeping her eyes fixed on the edge of his desk, trying to steady her breathing. Kartik Poddar. The name alone made her feel a cold shiver run down her spine. He was handsome, sure—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of chiseled features that made women stare. But he was also ruthless. A businessman who had already earned a reputation for being heartless in the diamond and gold trade his family controlled. And she knew, without a doubt, that the Poddars expected him to inherit both their empire and the Oberoi family business through this marriage.

Her role? To be the dutiful wife. The perfect accessory to his success. A housewife.

“Mama, Papa, I… I don’t even know him,” Misha’s voice trembled as she spoke. She wasn’t a stranger to the concept of arranged marriages—it was common in families like hers—but she had hoped, maybe foolishly, that she would have more of a choice. That she wouldn’t be reduced to a pawn in a business merger.

“You’ll know him soon enough,” her mother, Rina Oberoi, said, her tone light as if discussing a simple dinner party rather than the rest of her daughter’s life. “Kartik is everything a girl could ask for. He’s wealthy, influential, and comes from a good family.”

Wealth. Influence. Status. It was always the same checklist.

Misha’s hands clenched into fists in her lap. “But what about me? What about what I want? I don’t want to be just… just someone’s wife, Mama.”

Her father’s sharp gaze flickered toward her, his expression tightening. “You will be the wife of Kartik Poddar. Do you understand what that means? The Poddars control half the gold and diamond trade in Gujarat, and Kartik will inherit everything. He will also take over the management of Oberoi Fashion. This marriage will cement both our legacies. Together, you’ll be unstoppable.”

Together. What a joke. Kartik didn’t need her. He didn’t want her. Misha had seen him at parties—surrounded by women, always the center of attention, his easy charm and cold, calculating eyes making him the perfect playboy and businessman. He had never spared her more than a few polite words in the few family functions where they had crossed paths. Why would he? Kartik had a reputation—casual hookups, fleeting affairs, and a heart as impenetrable as the diamonds he sold. To him, she would be just another acquisition. A trophy.

She blinked back the sting of tears. “And what do I do after the marriage? Run the household? Host parties? Smile for the cameras while Kartik runs the businesses?”

Her mother moved closer, her expression soft, yet firm. “You will support your husband. That is your duty, Misha. A wife’s place is by her husband’s side, helping him build a family, a home.”

A home. That’s what they called it. In reality, it was a gilded cage.

“I’m 21,” Misha whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m not ready.”

“You will be ready,” her father said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “We’ve raised you for this. You’ve had everything handed to you, Misha. It’s time you give back to the family. Kartik will make sure you have everything you could ever want.”

Everything, except freedom. Except love.

---

Later that evening, Misha found herself pacing in the garden, the cool breeze doing little to calm her nerves. The vibrant flowers, the soft grass beneath her feet—it all felt so insignificant compared to the storm brewing inside her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Kartik. He hadn’t even bothered to call her. Not once.

Maybe she shouldn’t have expected him to. He probably didn’t care what she thought or felt. In his eyes, this marriage was just another business deal. Another way to secure his power, to expand his empire. He had everything already—money, looks, women. And soon, he would have her too.

Her mind flashed back to the last time she’d seen him at a party, surrounded by girls who couldn’t stop staring at him with admiration in their eyes. He had smiled at them, that charming, dangerous smile. But Misha had caught the look in his eyes—detached, cold, calculating. He knew exactly how much power he held over people, and he wielded it like a weapon.

She wondered what kind of husband he would be. Would he even notice her, once they were married? Or would she simply fade into the background of his life, another pretty face in his mansion, while he continued to live as he pleased?

The thought made her stomach twist.

A marriage where she would be nothing more than a housewife, expected to host dinners and raise children while Kartik continued his reign over both their family businesses. Misha had her own dreams, her own aspirations. She loved designing, creating, and had always hoped to build something of her own someday. But that dream seemed to be slipping further away with every passing second.

---

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the Oberoi estate, Misha’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, half-hoping it was Kartik, though she knew better. He wouldn’t call. He didn’t need to. Their fates were already sealed.

Instead, it was a message from her best friend, Sanaya.

“Are you okay? Heard the big news. Call me if you need to talk.”

Misha typed a quick reply, her fingers trembling slightly. “I’m not okay. And I don’t know if I ever will be.”

For the first time in her life, Misha felt utterly powerless, trapped in a destiny that wasn’t hers to control. And the worst part? No one seemed to care. Not her parents. Not Kartik.

Maybe, she thought bitterly, this was what it meant to be part of a legacy.