Chapter 2: Sindoor Without Consent

The temple courtyard that had once echoed with peaceful chants, sacred bells, and prayers now felt more like the center of a social explosion.

Whispers rushed through the crowd faster than wildfire.

“Did you see that?”

“The Billore heir…”

“Temple marriage…”

“That girl…”

“Destiny…”

Nandini Vishwas Deshmukh stood in the middle of it all, her breath uneven, her fingers trembling as they touched the mangalsutra resting against her neck.

It felt heavy.

Too heavy.

Like fate itself had decided to sit directly on her shoulders.

Her wide eyes remained locked on the bright red sindoor in her maang.

This wasn’t possible.

This couldn’t be real.

Just ten minutes ago, she had been an ordinary nursing student dragged to temple by her overly religious mother.

And now?

Now she was apparently married.

To him.

Ahaan Rajveer Billore.

Billionaire. CEO. Surgeon. Mafia king.

“Deva…” she whispered under her breath, nearly dizzy. “Majhya sobat hech ka?”

(God… why me?)

Standing beside her like an immovable storm cloud, Ahaan looked equally displeased.

His usually calm demeanor had darkened into something colder.

“This marriage means nothing,” he announced firmly, his sharp voice slicing through the chaos.

Nandini immediately turned toward him.

“Yes! Exactly! Thank you!”

Then, folding her arms in frustration, she muttered under her breath—

“Kiti attitude aahe ya manusala… full walking refrigerator.”

(How much attitude this man has… complete walking refrigerator.)

Ahaan’s brows furrowed instantly.

“…What did you say?”

Nandini blinked.

“Nothing.”

Kabir, standing behind Ahaan, nearly choked trying not to laugh.

“Oh no,” he whispered dramatically. “Your accidental wife is definitely insulting you.”

Ahaan shot him a dangerous glare.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Absolutely.”

Before further argument could erupt, Savitri Billore stepped forward, her regal presence instantly silencing everyone.

“Enough.”

Even the crowd seemed to collectively inhale.

“Sacred rituals performed before God are not accidents to be dismissed so casually.”

Nandini’s mother Meera looked ready to faint.

Vishwas Deshmukh appeared trapped between terror and helplessness.

“Aamchi mulgi…” he whispered painfully.

(Our daughter…)

Rajendra Billore’s deep voice added finality:

“Whether planned or not, society will only see one truth—our grandson and this girl are now married.”

The words slammed into Nandini like physical force.

“No!” she burst out. “This isn’t fair!”

Every eye turned toward her.

Even Ahaan seemed momentarily intrigued by her defiance.

“I have exams next month!” she continued, panic rising. “My life cannot end because of one temple disaster!”

Kabir snorted.

“Honestly, that’s a fair point.”

Ahaan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is absurd.”

But Nandini wasn’t done.

“Mala ajun degree complete karaychi aahe!”

(I still have to complete my degree!)

Ahaan frowned.

“What now?”

Kabir grinned wickedly.

“She says her education outranks your billionaire drama.”

For reasons he couldn’t explain—

Ahaan’s lips twitched.

Not a smile.

Certainly not.

But close.

Nandini noticed immediately.

“Tumhi haslat ka?”

(Did you just smile?)

Ahaan’s face returned to icy calm.

“No.”

“Khota.”

(Liar.)

“What does that mean?”

Kabir looked far too pleased.

“She called you a liar.”

Ahaan stared at Nandini.

Nandini stared right back.

For someone visibly panicking, she had an alarming amount of boldness.

Interesting.

Dangerously interesting.

Meanwhile, the priest awkwardly adjusted his shawl.

“The sacred sindoor… the mangalsutra… by tradition…”

“Please stop talking,” Ahaan said flatly.

The priest immediately obeyed.

Kabir leaned closer.

“You just scared a priest.”

“Not now.”

Temple guests continued whispering louder.

“Billore family scandal…”

“Middle-class Marathi bride…”

“Divine destiny…”

“Media chaos…”

And that was the problem.

This wasn’t merely embarrassing.

For the Billore empire, public scandal meant vulnerability.

Business rivals. Political enemies. Media predators.

One wrong narrative could create dangerous consequences.

Ahaan understood that instantly.

Nandini, however, was too overwhelmed to process billion-dollar reputations.

She turned desperately toward her father.

“Baba, please…”

Her voice cracked.

“I don’t even know this man.”

A brief silence followed.

And for the first time—

Ahaan looked at her not as a problem…

But as a person.

A terrified girl.

Young. Ordinary. Pulled into something far larger than herself.

Yet before sympathy could form, Nandini muttered again—

“Pan ha kharach over smart aahe…”

(But he really is over-smart…)

Ahaan sighed heavily.

“She’s definitely insulting me again.”

Kabir grinned.

“Yes. But creatively.”

Savitri finally made the declaration that changed everything:

“For now, until proper arrangements are decided, she will be treated with full dignity as Ahaan Billore’s wife.”

Silence.

Nandini froze.

Wife.

The word felt terrifying.

A black luxury car was brought forward.

Security shifted.

Everything was moving too fast.

Ahaan glanced toward her.

“Get in.”

Nandini blinked.

“Excuse me?”

His tone remained calm, authoritative.

“You cannot remain here.”

She folded her arms stubbornly.

“I am not some parcel to be delivered.”

Kabir nearly laughed himself unconscious.

Ahaan looked at her for a long moment.

Then, with infuriating calm, he replied:

“No.”

A pause.

“You are significantly louder than a parcel.”

Kabir burst out laughing.

Even Neel struggled to hide his grin.

Nandini gasped in pure offense.

“Aai! Did he just insult me?!”

And for the first time—

The terrifying Ahaan Rajveer Billore had openly teased her.

The crowd remained tense.

Families remained shaken.

But somewhere between sacred vows, social pressure, and complete disaster…

A spark had appeared.

Not love.

Certainly not peace.

But something undeniably dangerous.

Because this accidental marriage?

Was becoming far more complicated than either of them had imagined.

And Ahaan was beginning to realize—

His greatest challenge might not be business wars, surgeries, or mafia enemies.

It might just be surviving one stubborn Marathi nursing student who refused to fear him.

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