Aru Shah's life was already chaotic.
College finals. Overprotective friends. A family that went from "comfortable" to obscenely wealthy in t
Chapter 1: Well This is Awkward..
The families all stared at each other.
The silence stretched across the living room, thick and suffocating. The chandelier above us sparkled a little too brightly, reflecting off polished marble floors and glass tables that had never known fingerprints.
Krithika Shah was the first to speak, her voice smooth but careful. Suyodhana simply offered a polite smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes.
If you're just as confused as I am, let's start from the beginning.
My name is Sheela Jagan Shah, and along with my twin sister, Nikita Jagan Shah, we are the youngest members of the Shah family.
The kind of rich where your house echoes when you walk through it. The kind of rich where people lower their voices when they say your last name.
But we didn't grow up like that.
Dad's business skyrocketed about two years ago. One minute we were comfortable, the next we were moving into a mansion with ceilings so high I got dizzy looking up. Since then, we've been really rich.
It's been... interesting to say the least.
Nikita and I were enrolled in Augustus Day School, the top private school in Atlanta, Georgia. The uniforms are tailored. The lockers are electronic. Even the cafeteria smells expensive.
We have an older sister, Aru Shah. She graduated from Augustus Day too, and Dad thought it was only fair we follow in her footsteps.
Though before, it was different.
Remember when I said we didn't grow up extremely rich?
Our mom, Krithika Shah, is an archaeologist. She used to run the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture. The museum wasn't just her job .
We lived in the apartment above the museum, just close enough that we could sneak into empty exhibit halls after hours. Marble floors. Ancient statues. Dim golden lighting. Nikita and I would race past display cases while Mom threatened to ban us from the restoration wing forever if we broke something priceless.
Ice cream for dinner sometimes. Movie nights in Mom's office. Aru didi chasing us down long corridors, dramatic and loud and unstoppable.
Now things are different.
Aru didi is in college. Mom is always traveling to acquire new artifacts, her phone constantly buzzing. Dad keeps telling her to sell the museum, that it isn't necessary anymore.
And Dad—Suyodhana Shah—is rarely home before midnight. When he is, dinner feels like a business meeting. Quiet. Measured. Careful.
After all, they say they're doing this for us.
The family is all here together.
(Aru's not here. But I can't tell you where she is. Nikita made me promise not to say too much).
On any other day, I would've been excited to see everyone sitting in the same room, dressed nicely, pretending we're one big happy family.
Right now, we have guests over.
Specifically, Dad's rival company.
They sit across from us on cream-colored couches, posture straight, smiles sharp.
They're talking about an alliance.
I feel my blood run cold as I hear the next words.
Nikita's hand tightens around mine under the table.
The word marriage seems to echo off the high ceilings.
Mom shoots us a warning look when we gape at the adults. One of the guests raises an eyebrow, perfectly composed. Mom laughs lightly and says we're only thirteen, that we wouldn't understand these matters.
The conversation wraps up with firm handshakes and polite promises. Shoes click against marble as the guests leave.
The silence afterward is worse.
Nikita speaks first, because she always does.
"Why are you making Aru marry someone she doesn't even know?"
Mom sighs, pressing her fingers to her temple. "It's for the best."
"For who?" I ask quietly. "We hated them two years ago. How are we suddenly leaving the past behind?"
Dad steps back into the living room at that exact moment.
Mom gently guides us toward the staircase.
Despite being offered separate bedrooms when we moved in, Nikita and I refused. The house is too big to sleep alone.
I sit on my bed, staring at the pale walls. Nikita drops onto hers dramatically.
"Arranged marriage?" she mutters. "With a rival company?"
"Where's Aru?" she asks suddenly.
"She came home at 2:30 last night," Nikita says. "Tiptoeing and everything."
Our parents still don't know she came back.
Or that she slipped out again early this morning..
Nikita raises a suspicious eyebrow at me.
"Do you think she has a boyfriend?" I ask.
Nikita laughs. Loud and dramatic.
Then Nikita lowers her voice.
She groans, biting her lower lip. "If Mom and Dad find out, we're dead."
"Relax," I say, pulling out my phone.
"Should we let her know?" Nikita asks softly.
The twins share a pointed look.
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