The Terms Of Marriage

Anvi (POV)

The sun filtered softly through the giant Gulmohar trees lining the campus of St. Mira's College, casting dappled light on a group of students gathered at the canteen. Amidst the usual chaos of clinking plates, laughter, and heated debates over upcoming assignments, sat Anvi Gupta, perched on the edge of a bench, stirring her cold coffee distractedly.

I stared at my cold coffee, swirling the straw around like I was trying to find the mean like it owed me answers of life at the bottom of the glass. The cafeteria around me buzzed with end-of-semester energy, everyone talking about trips, parties, and jobs. But my brain? It was locked onto my interview tomorrow at The Voice. If I nailed that, it was one step closer to everything I’d planned.

"Anvi, are you even listening?" Simran's voice cut through my thoughts.

I blinked and looked up. "Huh? Yeah, yeah. You were saying something about the farewell?"

Simran rolled her eyes. "You’re not coming, are you?"

"Sim, I’ve got my interview tomorrow morning. The Voice is a big deal, you know that. If I get that internship, it’s going to open real doors for me."

"You sound like a resume," she muttered, sipping her Coke. watching me with that half-pitying, half-annoyed expression she always gave me when I talked about work.

"Better than sounding like a bride," I smirked. "Seriously, you think I have time for parties and dance rehearsals when I’m trying to build a career?"

She shook her head. "One day your parents are going to call and say, ‘Anvi beta, we’ve found a nice boy for you.’ Mark my words."

I laughed.

"Please. My parents know better. I’ve told them—career first, everything else later."

Right on cue, my phone buzzed. Mom & Dad (Home). Weird. They usually text if it’s something casual.

"Speak of the devil," I said, showing her the screen.

"Maybe they're calling about a rishta," Simran teased.

I scoffed. "Not funny."

I picked up. "Hi, Maa. Kya hua?(What happened) Everything okay?"

"Anvi beta, come home early today," my mom, Arohi Gupta, said in that soft-but-serious tone she always used when she meant business.

"Why? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes... just come home. Your dad and I want to talk to you about something important."

"Okay..." I replied slowly. "You’re not being weird at all right now."

"Bas aa jao, (just come) and no delays today."

She hung up.

I narrowed my eyes at the phone.

"What happened?" Simran asked.

"They want me home early. Said they have something 'important' to discuss."

Simran gasped dramatically. "I told you! It’s a rishta! You’re next!"

I laughed again, but this time, it felt… nervous. “No way. They wouldn’t dare.”

Would they?“No way,” I mumbled, grabbing my bag. “I’m not mentally prepared for this nonsense.”

The cab ride home was uneventful, but my thoughts were anything but. I kept thinking about all the times my mom had said "Shaadi ki baat baad mein karenge". This didn’t feel like "baad mein" anymore.

I walked into our apartment, dropping my bag near the shoe rack. “Maa? Papa?”

They were both in the living room, sitting like they were about to deliver a TED talk on heartbreak.

"Beta, come, Papa said, my dad, Akash Gupta, smiling awkwardly.

“Okay,” I said slowly, sinking into the armchair across from them. “This is weird. What’s going on?”

Mom looked at Papa, then at me. “Anvi… we’ve spoken to someone. A family we know through your bua. They have a son… and they’ve sent a proposal.”

I stared. “A what?”

"A proposal," she repeated. “His name is Ruhan Malhotra. The family is nice, cultured, educated. He's settled in Mumbai, runs a business with his father. Very decent boy.”

My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "I’m 24. I still get carded at movie theaters."

"We’re not asking you to marry tomorrow!" Mom said quickly. “Just meet him. Talk to him. See how it goes. It’s just a meeting.”

I shook my head slowly.

“I thought we agreed—career first. You promised.” "Pappa you are not agreed to this right?"

Papa leaned forward. “We’re not forcing anything. But you’re growing up, Anvi. And good rishtas don’t wait forever."

"Pappa You Also!"

My heart pounded in my ears.

Ruhan Malhotra.

A name I didn’t know was about to change everything.