It was early the next morning when Aditi got the news of Jeevan Bathla's accident. He was on the way to their dairy farm when a speeding motorbike hit him from behind. Aditi rushed with Kanta Chachi to Rajpur hospital in time for the surgery to start. He had suffered multiple fractures and although the damage wasn't life-threatening, it was clear he would be bedridden for months.

To her surprise, Darsh Rathore was there too. It was him who'd found Jeevan Chacha lying in a roadside ditch in the early hours of the morning and got him here before it was too late.

They hardly exchanged a word. She kept herself busy with the doctors and Kanta Chachi while he flitted around taking care of the formalities. Paperwork was completed promptly, bills were paid, and accommodations were sorted to ensure maximum comfort. He did whatever and all he could yet she ignored him completely.

Hours passed. Sometime in the afternoon, an inspector came to take Jeevan Chacha's statement.

"So you were hit by a motorbike on the way to the dairy farm." The Inspector said with his customary indifference. "Did you see any faces? Any bike number?"

"It was too dark. I couldn't see anything properly." Chacha's sunken voice told them he didn't want any more trouble. A few more questions later, it was clear there were no leads. The Inspector left happily looking much relieved. All through this Kanta Chachi sat next to her husband clutching his hand. Aditi's face clouded with shame. They all knew who did it and why, yet no one had the guts to raise their voice. They knew it was futile. There was only one solution.

She stayed there until late until Chacha was shifted to a room. By the time she returned home, it was nearly dark. With her heart filled with weariness, she sent a text to Vivaan, then entered the Study. Her decision was made, she now only had to inform her Dadaji.

"Good you are finally here. I have been waiting to talk to you." Her Dadaji was pacing the room like a caged lion. She could feel the heat of his agitation even from this distance. "I have decided to accept Darsh Rathore's proposal. I am going to announce it tomorrow at the race club after-party."

Her eyes widened.

"But Dadaji, I can't accept it. I have already..." She felt the ground opening at her feet. This was a disaster, she had just texted Vivaan of her decision. He would go berserk. He would...

"You have no choice girl." Balwant thundered. "I am not going to let you fall for Vivaan's tricks again. My decision is made, and it's final."

"But Dadaji, we don't even know if he did this. The police are still investigating..."

"The police will do nothing." Balwant seethed. "If the Inspector does find anything of importance, it'd be his family next on Vivaan's target. So let's not put him in this jeopardy." Muttering to himself he continued his pacing. She felt her feet go laden.

"But Dadaji, I can't! I..." She didn't know what to say. Her Dadaji was seldom this high-handed. But when he was, there was no way around it. It was his shame, his guilt for that drunken mistake. He couldn't live with it, and it looked like he certainly did not want to die with it.

"I saw you last night with Darsh Rathore." His abrupt words came as a splash of cold water.

Her face reddened. "It's nothing like that, Dadaji. He was just..."

He raised an imperious hand and she shut her mouth. "Denying it doesn't make it false Aditi. And I'd say it's about time you had someone in your life."

She stared dumbstruck.

"Tomorrow evening at the club, there would be all the club members and our usual acquaintances. Be ready. You are going to be engaged with Darsh Rathore."

Waving her away he pulled a folder and buried himself into it. She staggered to her feet and dragged herself out.

*****

That night she couldn't sleep. She sat in her bed, eyes wide open with her phone in her hand.

One mind told her to call Vivaan and beg him to reconsider. But she knew it was unlikely, not after her recent text, not when he thought he was winning. Another mind told her to call Darsh Rathore and plead with him again. But it was impossible, she didn't even have his number.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. She was going to be engaged to a man she met five days ago. The only thing she knew about him was his name. Well, correction, she also knew he was a very good man. He had helped her umpteen number of times. And of course, not to forget the most important thing - he was the only one who knew her secret, apart from her and her perpetrator. That made three, one more than she would have ever liked.

The deadweight in her stomach started rolling again. Flinging the phone on her bed she got up and started pacing the room. The fear and helplessness slowly made way for anger. Why should she be in this predicament? Why must she be forced to choose when she didn't even want to make the choice? It was her life, surely it should be her decision? It was not up to them. It was not up to Vivaan to terrorize her, force her to do his bidding. Nor was it up to her Dadaji and Darsh Rathore to pull her strings in whichever way they pleased.

It was ridiculous. It was unfair. Vivaan and his abominable lust. Her Dadaji and his hapless guilt. And Darsh Rathore, whose thoughtless remark had started all this, and who had suddenly developed these weird feelings and decided to be her savior.

That she had similar feelings herself was completely irrelevant, she scoffed in irritation. They were not feelings. Her jitters had a very simple explanation. She was probably just hormonal, she should know that being a doctor. He was a very handsome man, and she was affected like any other young girl, it was as simple as that.

Her phone buzzed at that exact moment, the screen flashing with a text from an unknown number.

"Thought you should have this now that we are going to be engaged. Love, take care."

It took her a moment to realize who it was from. Her annoyance shot through the roof. The gall of this man! First, forcing her hand and then proclaiming his..whatever! They were all the same. Vivaan, her Dadaji, and this Darsh Rathore.

Chewing her lips she glanced at the phone. Now she had his number yet she didn't feel like calling. It was pointless, he wouldn't listen. No one would listen. She had to help herself, she had to find a way that'd suit her the best.

Making up her mind she called Zorawar, explaining to him what she needed to be done. As usual, he listened in silence, no questions asked.

Half her job done, she walked to her wardrobe and wrenched the doors open. Rails of clothes hung there, mostly riding habits, jeans, jodhpurs with different shirts and jackets. The rest of the half was taken by simple cotton salwar kameezes she used for the clinic. It was all she needed and ever wanted to have. Her eyes flitted to the far corner where some of her mother's sarees hung on the rail. These were the ones her Ma loved and wore on special occasions. Her hand trailed on them longingly, feeling the luxury, the soft supple texture. It was the feel of her Ma, her scent still lingered on after all these years.

Selecting one she took it out. Her Ma had worn it on her last Diwali. The color wasn't Aditi's usual, but it was just what she needed for tomorrow.

Half an hour later when she drifted to sleep, her mind was calm. It felt nice to be back in control, to take back the power of decision that was being snatched away from her. For all his love, Dadaji's one mistake was costing her heavily. She had no wish to wager her life on another.

*****

Darsh lay in his bed, fidgeting with his phone. An hour had passed and it had stubbornly stayed silent. Sighing to himself he dialed her. Once, twice, the ring kept going but she didn't answer.

Grinding his teeth he flung it on the bed and started pacing the room. This was what he got for being nice. This was what he got for being there for her.

Stupid, willful, headstrong, and annoyingly difficult. All these adjectives fitted perfectly when it came to Princess Sharma. The whole day today he had spent at that wretched hospital, taking care of her maid and her family. And in return, all he had got was haughty looks and silent treatment. She hadn't even shown the courtesy of a simple thank-you. And even now, even after her grandpa's decision, she was being pig-headed, ignoring his calls as if he was some random stranger and not her would-be fiancé.

Fiancé! The word sent tiny goosebumps slithering all over his skin. In his thirty years of life, he had never come this close to being committed. It was the best news he had received in years when Balwant Rai Sharma called him this evening to announce his decision. With supreme arrogance he had told Darsh he was acceding to his proposal to marry his granddaughter. If the man was worried, he'd hidden it efficiently. Darsh didn't mind. Everything was fine, everything was okay as long as he got his way.

Tomorrow was the day. In the evening, at the racecourse restaurant. It was not the part of the restaurant accessible to the general public that Darsh had been, Balwant Sharma had warned him condescendingly. It was an exclusive part called the Queen's Lounge, behind the club, bordering the river, only accessible to the richest patrons of The Royal Equestrian Club, Palampur.

Darsh didn't mind that either. From tomorrow onwards nothing would be too exclusive for him. Everyone will know him in fifty miles of Palampur and beyond. They will all run after him, the would-be son-in-law of the all-too-powerful Balwant Rai Sharma.

Well, all except one, his reluctant bride-to-be, he admitted grudgingly. If he was to go by her today's behavior, she would be all stiff-necked and huffy, pretending her best he didn't exist.

Smiling slightly he caressed the locket. She was cute. A bit too naive, and idealistic, a little girl who didn't know what was good for her. Any other girl in her place would have jumped at his proposal, after all, not every day did they get a chance at a man like him. Not her though, and that made her even more special. A precious, pure white unicorn among the mere ordinary thoroughbreds. It was all the more reason for him to take control. He had to protect her from evil. And more than that, he had to protect her from herself.

Kissing the golden heart goodnight, he tucked it away safely. Tomorrow he'd be one step closer to his destination. Then another step and he'd be there.

***** *****