An Arranged Marriage

Shadows of Possession

Misha woke up groggy, her head pounding and her mouth dry. Blinking against the soft light filtering through the curtains, she felt something strange—the fabric against her skin. She glanced down, startled to find herself in oversized men’s clothes, the shirt hanging loosely over her frame. She shot up in bed, her heart racing as she looked around. This wasn’t her room.

It was then she remembered flashes of the previous night—the club, the drinks, Pranjal...and then Kartik. Her eyes widened, her breath quickening. Kartik.

She scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, recognizing the space as luxurious, modern, but with a masculine touch. The dark sheets, the sleek furniture—it had to be Kartik's villa. Panic rose inside her as she threw off the blankets, her feet hitting the cold floor. What the hell had happened?

Still feeling unsteady, she followed the sound of rhythmic thuds, leading her to a glass door that opened into a private gym. There, lifting weights with perfect precision, was Kartik. His muscular frame gleamed with sweat, every movement controlled, powerful.

She swallowed hard, her fear and confusion mixing with something else—something she didn't want to acknowledge. Kartik noticed her standing there, watching him, and set the weights down. He walked over to her, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re awake,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. He moved closer, his towering figure making her feel even more vulnerable. Without warning, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer.

Misha gasped, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest to push him away. “What are you doing?” she stammered, her voice shaky.

Kartik’s grip tightened, his eyes boring into hers. “Don’t ever put yourself in a situation like that again,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “You were drunk out of your mind last night. You could have been hurt, or worse.”

She winced as his fingers dug into her side. “Let go of me,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with defiance. “You’re hurting me.”

For a moment, Kartik didn’t move, his grip firm. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he let go of her, his hand lingering for a second longer than necessary. Misha stepped back, rubbing her waist where his hand had been.

“Next time,” he added, his voice softer but still laced with warning, “I won’t be there to save you.”

Misha shot him a glare. “I don’t need saving, Kartik. Especially not from you.”

Kartik raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his expression unreadable. He turned away, walking toward the door. “Breakfast is ready. Let’s eat.”

---

They sat in uncomfortable silence at the dining table as the cook served them breakfast. Misha barely touched her food, too tense to enjoy it. Kartik, on the other hand, ate with the same calm control he seemed to have over everything in his life. His phone buzzed on the table, and he quickly answered it, his voice businesslike as he gave orders to his assistant.

“Get a change of clothes for Misha. Bring it over in half an hour,” Kartik said before hanging up.

Misha froze. “You don’t have to do that,” she protested, but Kartik didn’t even look up.

“You can’t leave in what you’re wearing,” he said simply, continuing to eat. “I’ll take care of it.”

Misha's phone, which had been lying beside her untouched, suddenly buzzed. She picked it up and saw dozens of missed calls and messages from Sanaya and her friends. Her heart sank as she read the worried texts, and she quickly dialed Sanaya’s number.

“Misha! Where the hell are you?” Sanaya’s voice was frantic. “We’ve been trying to reach you all night!”

“I’m fine,” Misha said, glancing at Kartik, who was watching her intently. “I, um... I was with Kartik. He found me last night.”

There was a pause on the other end. “With Kartik? What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story,” Misha said, keeping her voice low. “I’ll explain everything later.”

Sanaya didn’t sound convinced but let it go. “Okay... just make sure you’re safe.”

“I am. Don’t worry,” Misha assured her, though the tension in her stomach told her otherwise. She hung up and placed the phone back on the table, glancing around the room. Her gaze lingered on the bed in the distance, her thoughts spiraling.

Soon, that bed, that room, this house—it would all be hers. She would live here. With him.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him. Kartik was everything she feared—a controlling, dominant presence. And now she was trapped. She clenched her hands in her lap, trying to calm the growing panic.

A short while later, Kartik’s assistant arrived with a change of clothes—a simple dress, tasteful yet expensive. Misha changed in the bathroom, the reality of her situation sinking in further. When she emerged, Kartik was waiting, his keys in hand.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice neutral. He led her to his sleek black Porsche parked outside.

The drive back to her house was quiet, the tension thick between them. Misha kept her gaze fixed on the passing streets, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. When they pulled up in front of her house, her mother was already waiting at the door, a smile on her face.

Kartik got out first, greeting her mother with the charm that came so naturally to him. “Good morning, Mrs. Oberoi,” he said smoothly. “I ran into Misha and her friend Sanaya at a restaurant this morning, so we decided to chat a bit. I thought I’d drop her home afterward.”

Her mother’s smile widened, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “How kind of you, Kartik. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Misha watched the exchange, her stomach churning. As Kartik turned to leave, his eyes met hers for a brief moment, his gaze unreadable.

The lie was so effortless for him. And in that moment, Misha realized just how little control she had left over her own life.