Chapter 1
Meera rubbed her temples, staring at the official notice in her hands. Her once blissful six-month stay in the U.S. had screeched to an abrupt halt.
One more week, and she wouldn't be allowed back for three years.
It was too late to apply for an extension. If only she had been more cautious.
Her tourist visa was expiring, and her workplace had made it clear—they wouldn't sponsor a work visa for an intern. She had one day to decide: return to India and face her overbearing family or find a way to stay.
The latter seemed impossible.
Desperate, she opened her laptop and typed, "how to get a green card ASAP?"
The search results took just 6.7 seconds to load, but for Meera, it felt like an eternity.
She clicked on the first article: "4 Easiest Ways to Get a Green Card."
Option 1: Family Sponsorship.
She let out a humorless laugh. The only people she knew in this city were her colleagues and the elderly couple who owned the café across the street.
Option 2: Employer Sponsorship.
Already ruled out.
Option 3: Refugee Status.
Not applicable.
Option 4: Marriage to a U.S. Citizen.
She scoffed. Of course, that was listed as an option. But the way the blog mentioned it—half in jest, as if it weren't a real solution—annoyed her.
Sighing, she shut her laptop and rubbed her eyes. This was useless.
Shoving her phone into her bag, she grabbed her coat and left her apartment. If she had any chance of convincing her employer, she had to try one last time.
She flagged down a taxi. "2 Park Avenue, please."
The driver nodded. "Sure thing."
Fifteen minutes later, she stood outside the Kate Spade headquarters. The familiar Pret A Manger to her left reminded her she hadn't eaten all day. Not that it mattered.
She rode the elevator up to the ninth floor, packed her things into a small box, and made her way to her boss's office.
"She's on leave," her boss's secretary informed her. "Family emergency. Won't be back for a week."
Meera swallowed her disappointment. That was it, then.
She turned to leave, her mind buzzing with anxiety. She needed air.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, she sprinted forward. "Please hold it!"
For once, wearing sneakers to work was an advantage. She slipped inside, slightly breathless, and pressed against the back wall.
She felt the weight of someone's gaze.
Meera looked up and met a pair of dark brown eyes.
"Thanks," she murmured, barely audible.
Her social awkwardness always betrayed her at the worst times.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. As she pulled it out, a few other items tumbled from her bag.
Ignoring the call, she bent down quickly, scrambling to gather her things.
The elevator doors dinged open. Without a second glance, she rushed out, mortified by her clumsiness.
Jai—or J, as his friends called him—was in a foul mood.
His father had just thrown an impossible condition at him: get married within a week or forget about becoming CEO.
Seven years. Seven years of working his way up the company, proving himself, and now this? He was supposed to run the damn business, not play house.
Frustrated, he had gone to see his best friend, Bella, for advice—only to find out she was on vacation.
Great.
Muttering under his breath, he stepped into the elevator. Just as the doors were about to close, a voice called out, "Please hold it!"
A girl rushed in, slightly out of breath, wearing sneakers to a corporate office.
She barely acknowledged him.
That amused him.
She wasn't flustered or fangirling over him, unlike most women he met. She didn't even seem to notice him properly.
Then, as she reached for her phone, she dropped half the contents of her bag.
Jai debated helping. He decided against it.
As soon as the doors opened, she practically fled. Jai chuckled. Cute.
Just as he was about to step out, something caught his eye.
A white envelope lay on the floor, stamped with an official government seal.
He picked it up.
Meera Verma
345C, 111 Lawrence St, Brooklyn, NY 11201, USA
His curiosity piqued, he flipped it open.
A visa overstay notice.
He raised a brow.
So, that's why she looked so stressed.
Normally, he would have tossed it to his secretary and moved on with his day. But Jai needed a distraction.
And this? This was interesting.
Meera was halfway through reheating leftover Thai food when her doorbell rang.
Frowning, she wiped her hands and walked to the door.
The last person she expected to see was him—the guy from the elevator.
She stared. "Umm... can I help you?"
Jai held up the envelope. "I think you dropped this."
His voice had a mild American accent, and now that she was looking at him properly, she noticed things she hadn't before—his chiseled jaw, the way his dark brown hair curled slightly at the ends.
He looked Indian, but his mannerisms, his presence... he was definitely raised here.
Their eyes met.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
Jai, on the other hand, had already made up his mind.
Clearing his throat, he spoke.
"Meera Verma," he said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I know this is going to sound insane, but..."
A pause.
"Would you consider a marriage of convenience?"
Meera blinked. "What?"
Jai exhaled, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Marry me. Please."
