Chapter 3 – Terms and Conditions of a Heart

For a long, heavy moment, Aarav didn’t speak.

His thumb still rested against Anaya’s jaw, his body close enough that she could feel the faint warmth radiating through his suit. To everyone else, his expression would seem calm—bored, even.

But up close, she could see it.

The micro-tension at the corner of his eyes.

The controlled, measured breaths.

The faint, almost invisible tremor in his fingers when they pressed against her skin.

His heart wasn’t the only thing under pressure.

“Step inside,” he said finally, dropping his hand and turning away.

He walked out of the elevator into a corridor lined with abstract art and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. She trailed behind him, her sneakers muffled on the thick carpet.

At the far end, a pair of tall glass doors slid open at his approach.

His office was… too big.

All glass, steel, and shadow. One entire wall was a view of the skyline. Another wall held neatly arranged books and files. The central desk was a sleek slab of dark wood—minimal, efficient, intimidating.

He walked behind the desk and sat down, a king reclaiming his throne.

She stopped a few feet away, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place she looked in this world of polished surfaces and silent power.

Aarav steepled his fingers.

“Sit,” he said.

She looked around. There were two visitor chairs in front of the desk, the kind that probably cost more than her entire apartment. She sank into one, feeling small but refusing to let it show on her face.

“Now,” he said calmly, “let’s treat this as what it is—a negotiation.”

That word calmed him. Negotiations, he understood. They had rules. He always won.

Anaya let out a slow breath. “Alright.”

“You claim,” he began, eyes boring into hers, “that you died in another timeline, and that in that reality, I also died six months from now.”

“Yes.”

“In that version of reality, I married you.”

“Yes.”

“And marriage to you extended my life.”

“Yes.”

He leaned back. “You realize how insane that sounds.”

“I know.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Trust me, living it feels even crazier.”

Something flickered in his gaze—a ghost of amusement, quickly buried.

“Let’s assume for a moment you’re not delusional.” His tone sharpened. “Why me? Of all the people in the world, why are you tied to me?”

Because you were the only one whose death made the news big enough for even a dying girl to notice, she thought.

Aloud, she said, “I don’t know. Maybe fate hates us both equally.”

The system hummed in her mind.

[Partial Truth Detected – Acceptable]

Aarav drummed his fingers lightly on the desk.

“Even if I believed you,” he continued, “marriage is not a… light step. There are legal implications. Media scrutiny. Family reactions. Shareholder questions. I don’t marry people on a whim just because they show up in my lobby with dramatic lines.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Anaya said quietly. “But you’re running out of options. Your doctors can buy time, not guarantee survival. I’m offering you something they can’t.”

“And what exactly are you?” he asked. “A healer? A supernatural battery?”

She looked at her hands.

“I’m just someone whose life got tied to yours,” she said. “If you think I’m lying, this conversation can end now. I’ll walk out. You’ll forget me. And in six months, you’ll—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he cut in, voice suddenly low and dangerous.

Her mouth shut with a click.

Ah. The mighty CEO hated being reminded of his mortality.

Good.

That meant he still wanted to live.

Silence stretched between them, tense and electric.

He stared at her as if he could peel back her skin and read the truth written on her bones. She held his gaze, even as every survival instinct screamed at her to look away.

Finally, he exhaled and reached for a sleek tablet on his desk, tapping the screen.

“Sanaya,” he said, addressing his assistant through the office intercom, “I want a full background check on… Anaya Mehra. Immediate priority.”

Anaya stiffened.

“School records, employment, residential history, criminal checks, medical reports,” he went on. “Everything. I want it within twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, sir,” came the prompt reply.

He ended the call and looked back at Anaya.

“You understand,” he said smoothly, “that I don’t enter any contract—marital or otherwise—without due diligence.”

She nodded. “I expected that.”

“No secrets.”

Her throat went dry.

In her past life, she’d had no time for secrets. She’d been too busy scraping by. The only things that might look bad on paper were her debts and unpaid bills.

But this wasn’t the same timeline anymore. Some threads were already fraying differently.

“What if you find something you don’t like?” she asked quietly.

“Then this conversation ends,” he said without blinking. “And I will make sure you never get close enough to me to talk about my health again.”

It wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

Her heart shivered.

“Understood,” she said.

His gaze softened just a fraction.

“For now,” he continued, “I’ll assume you’re either a very talented manipulator or a very desperate woman. Either way, I’m curious enough to not throw you out yet.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Curious was better than indifferent. Curious meant there was still a door—narrow, guarded, dangerous—but open.

Aarav pinned her with another look.

“As for marriage,” he said, “that isn’t something I… feel. It’s something I sign.”

His words were cold, but there was something raw beneath them. A hint that for him, emotions weren’t currency he used. Contracts, on the other hand, were sacred.

“Then sign with me,” she said, surprising herself. “Even if your heart doesn’t believe in it yet.”

His eyes darkened at her choice of words.

“Don’t talk about my heart as if you own it already,” he murmured.

Anaya swallowed, but she didn’t look away.

“I don’t,” she said softly. “Not yet.”

The “yet” hung in the air like a quietly lit fuse.

The system chimed discreetly.

[Target’s Emotional Guard Fluctuating]

[Obsession Risk: Increasing]

Aarav stood suddenly.

The movement was smooth, but she saw the momentary stiffness in his shoulders, the brief hand pressed too casually against his chest. A tiny sign of discomfort—of pain.

He moved to the window, staring out at the city. His reflection shimmered faintly on the glass: tall, lonely, contained.

“I built everything out there,” he said, voice low. “Piece by piece. I chose every alliance, every investment, every enemy.”

“I know,” Anaya whispered.

“And now you expect me to hand over my most… fragile weakness to a stranger.”

“I’m not asking you to hand it over,” she replied. “I’m offering to carry it with you.”

Her own words startled her.

So soft. So earnest.

She meant every one of them.

He turned his head slightly, eyes cutting back to her through the reflection.

“What if marriage to you doesn’t save me?” he asked. “What if it accelerates my death?”

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the chair.

“Then we’ll die together,” she said simply.

The words slipped out before she could weigh them. No drama. No tremor. Just quiet certainty.

He stared at her for a long second.

That kind of loyalty… he’d never had it from anyone. Not without cost, not without agenda.

“Reckless,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what kind of man I am.”

“I know you’re someone who’s still standing,” she replied. “Someone who hasn’t surrendered. That’s enough for me.”

“And if I’m worse than what the media says?” he pressed, testing. “Cruel. Manipulative. Controlling.”

She held his gaze, meeting the darkness head-on.

“Then I’ll learn to handle the man I married,” she said. “Not the idea of him.”

His lips twitched.

“Bold.”

“You like bold,” she shot back before she could stop herself.

The faintest spark of surprise lit his eyes… followed by a low chuckle, dark and soft.

It sent an unwanted shiver down her spine.

She hadn’t expected him to laugh.

When he did, he looked younger, less like a carved statue. The danger didn’t disappear—it simply became more alluring.

“Very well, Miss Mehra,” he said, returning to his chair. “Here are my terms.”

Her heart thudded wildly.

“First,” he said, ticking off an invisible list, “for the next seven days, you will be under my observation.”

Her mouth fell open. “Observation?”

“You want to tie your life to mine,” he said, voice patient as if explaining something to a child. “I don’t marry unknown variables. You’ll stay where I can see you. My home. My schedule. My world.”

Her cheeks flushed.

Living with him? Her brain short-circuited at the thought.

“I… I have a job,” she protested weakly.

He looked unimpressed. “Not anymore.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can, and I will,” he said, tone like chilled glass. “If your presence truly affects my health, I need data. Proximity. Patterns. That doesn’t happen with you living in some cheap rented room.”

She bristled, but he wasn’t wrong.

“And if I say no?” she challenged.

He leaned in slightly.

“Then you walk out of this office,” he said. “And hope your second chance at life doesn’t expire as abruptly as your first.”

Her breath caught.

He was giving her a choice.

A brutal, one-sided, unfair choice—but a choice.

“Second,” he continued smoothly, “you will obey my instructions while you’re in my space. We do this my way, on my terms. I don’t like chaos.”

“Meaning… you control everything,” she said.

“Yes.”

It should have repulsed her.

Instead, a strange calm settled over her chest.

At least he was honest about his need for control. He didn’t pretend to be gentle. He didn’t offer sweet lies.

“Third,” he said, holding her gaze, “if at any point I determine that you’re lying, manipulating, or endangering my life—”

“You’ll destroy me,” she finished quietly.

He smiled without humor. “Now you’re beginning to understand.”

She looked down at her hands, then back up at him.

“And if you decide I’m telling the truth?” she asked softly.

His eyes burned into hers, black and intent.

“Then,” he said, each word deliberate, “I will marry you. And once I do… you won’t escape me, Anaya.”

A chill skated down her spine.

Not because of the threat.

Because of how part of her… didn’t want to escape.

The system’s voice rang like a bell.

[Trial Cohabitation Route Unlocked]

[Main Quest Progress: 7%]

Aarav pushed a sleek, black access card across the desk toward her.

“This is for tonight,” he said. “My driver will pick you up at seven. Pack only what you need. No extended goodbyes. No detours.”

Her fingers hovered over the card.

“This feels very much like being kidnapped,” she muttered.

His lips curved in a slow, wicked almost-smile.

“Then consider it a polite kidnapping,” he said. “You walked into the lion’s den on your own, Miss Mehra. I’m merely closing the door.”

She swallowed and curled her hand around the card.

Her fate. Her second life. Her heart.

All of it, sliding dangerously into his world.

As she stood to leave, he called out softly, “Anaya.”

She paused.

“If you’re lying,” he said, voice silk over steel, “I’ll make you wish you’d stayed dead.”

Her chest tightened.

“And if I’m not?” she asked.

His gaze dipped briefly to her lips before rising to her eyes again.

“Then,” Aarav murmured, “you’ll learn what it means to belong to the man whose life you saved.”

Her pulse skittered.

She left his office with knees that felt like water, the access card burning in her palm.

Somewhere deep inside, two hearts—one failing, one reborn—beat in an uneven, dangerous rhythm.

And fate smiled, satisfied.

The game had finally begun.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***