We Will Fall In Love If We Stay Close

We Will Fall In Love If We Stay Close 1.Episode The courthouse hallway was freezing. Colder than the fear sitting in Nora Islam’s chest. In her hands, two papers. One: Her mother’s case file. Charge: Fraud. Sentence: 5 years. Reality: Innocent. Two: A hospital bill. Amount: $20,000. Her 9-year-old brother needed surgery in 48 hours. Her phone buzzed again. "Sorry miss, loan rejected." Nora had sold everything. Her mother’s gold bangles. Her laptop. Even her football boots. Still $18,000 short. She leaned her head against the cold wall and closed her eyes. Tears fell silently. "Miss Islam?" Nora wiped her face fast. A man in a black suit stood there. "I'm David. Assistant to DSP Aryan Chowdhury." Nora frowned. "I don’t know him." "You will," David said. "He wants to meet you. Now. Car is waiting downstairs." 30 minutes later, Nora was in a car worth more than her entire house. The Dhaka city lights blurred outside. Her heart was pounding. What did the city’s most feared police officer want with her? The car stopped at a 50-story glass tower. Chowdhury Tower. His family owned half the city. Including the college she dreamed of studying in. The office was on the top floor. All glass and steel. Cold. Just like the man standing with his back to her. DSP Aryan Chowdhury. 6 feet tall. Broad shoulders. Fair skin. Black shirt with sleeves rolled up. Messy hair. And when he turned around, Nora forgot how to breathe. He was unfairly handsome. Sharp jawline. Deep, angry eyes that looked like they could burn you. The kind of face girls had posters of. But his expression was ice. "Sit," he said. One word. Deep voice. Nora sat. Her hands were shaking. "I’ll be direct," Aryan said. "My grandfather is dying. His last wish is to see me married. If I’m not married in 6 months, I lose 60% of my company to my cousin. To my enemy." Nora blinked. "And what does that have to do with me?" "I need a wife," Aryan said bluntly. "A fake one." He slid a thick folder across the desk. CONTRACT in bold red letters. Nora opened it with trembling fingers. Clause 1: Marriage duration - 1 year. Clause 2: No physical contact. Separate rooms. Clause 3: No emotional attachment. No falling in love. Clause 4: Public appearances required. Act like a perfect couple. Clause 5: Do not try to win over my family. Payment: $20,000. Upfront. For your brother’s surgery. Nora’s breath caught. $20,000. Exactly what she needed. "This is crazy," she whispered. "Why me?" Aryan finally looked at her. Really looked. At her old dress, her tired eyes, her desperation. "Because you have no one. No powerful relatives. No one will ask questions. And you look desperate enough to say yes." The words stung. But they were true. "How do I know you’ll keep your promise? About my mother’s case?" Nora asked. Aryan leaned back. "You don’t. But right now, I’m your only option, Miss Islam. Your mother is rotting in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. Your brother is dying. And you have no money." He said it without emotion. Like reading a police report. Nora looked at the picture in her file. Her little brother Rahim. Smiling with missing teeth. Her hand moved on its own. She picked up the pen. "One condition," she said softly. "The money. Transferred to the hospital today. Before I sign." Aryan stared at her for 10 long seconds. Most people feared that stare. Nora was too tired. "Deal," Aryan said finally. He snapped his fingers. David walked out. The pen touched paper. With one signature, Nora sold 1 year of her life. She didn’t know she was also signing up for heartbreak. --- 3 hours later. The money was in the hospital account. Rahim’s surgery was scheduled. And Nora was standing in front of Chowdhury Mansion. It was huge. White marble. Fountains. Bigger than her entire village. A board at the gate: "Chowdhury Group. Owners of Chowdhury College." The main door opened. An old woman with kind eyes and white hair ran out. "My grandson’s wife!" Dadi hugged Nora tightly. She smelled like sandalwood. "You’re so thin, beta! Come inside." Nora forced a small smile. "Thank you, Dadi." Inside, the whole family was there. Aryan’s mother. Sharp eyes. Judging. Elder brother. Business suit. Bored. Elder sister-in-law Boudi. Expensive saree. Whispering. Younger sister. College age. Staring. And Aryan. Standing apart in a black panjabi. Hair still wet. Arms crossed. Face like stone. Even angry, he was the most handsome man in the room. Dinner was silent. Too silent. Finally, Aryan’s mother spoke. "What does your father do?" Nora’s throat went dry. "He... he passed away last year. Heart attack. We don’t have much." The room went quiet. Boudi put her spoon down with a loud *clink*. "Wonderful. Aryan brought home a charity case for us to feed." "Riya," the elder brother warned. "What? It’s true," Boudi said. "This is not a shelter." *Bang.* Aryan slammed his glass on the table. Water spilled. "Enough," he said. Low but deadly voice. Everyone froze. Even Boudi. Aryan stood up. "Nora. With me." Nora followed him upstairs. The whole house was watching. In the hallway, Aryan stopped. "This is your room," he pointed left. "Mine is on the right. Don’t enter without permission. And don’t expect me to save you again. That wasn’t in the contract." "Then why did you?" Nora asked softly. Aryan didn’t answer. He looked at her for 3 seconds. In those angry eyes, Nora saw something else. Something soft. Then it was gone. He walked into his room and shut the door. Nora went into her room. It was huge. But empty. Knock knock. Dadi. "Beta, are you hungry? I made khichuri. Aryan told me it’s your favorite." Nora’s eyes filled with tears. "How did you know?" Dadi smiled and patted her head. "A mother knows. Even if she’s not your real mother yet." That night, Nora lay in the big bed staring at the ceiling. Contract said no feelings. Contract said don’t win the family. But Dadi already loved her. And Aryan... why did he shout for her? Next door, Aryan was also awake. Staring at the ceiling. He looked at his phone. A photo of Mithila. His ex. Abroad. Happy. He deleted it. "Just 1 year," he told himself. "No feelings." But for some reason, the girl next door wouldn’t leave his head. Day 1 of the contract was over. And the first rule was already breaking. Because they say it best: **We will fall in love if we stay close.**