Chapter 1: Welcome to the Family Group Chat

Anaya Verma prided herself on three things:

A sharp tongue.

A steady collection of indoor plants she constantly forgot to water.

And an exceptional borderline Olympic-level talent for avoiding drama.

Especially family drama.

At twenty-six, Anaya had mastered the art of dodging awkward wedding setups, ignoring nosy aunties at family functions, and giving exactly zero attention to ex-boyfriends who didn’t deserve it.

Well… except for the fact that one of those ex-boyfriends had been Ishaan Malhotra. The Ishaan Malhotra. Charming, cocky, and the worst decision she’d ever made in the name of love.

They hadn’t spoken in two years.

Not a text, not a call, not even an accidental Instagram like. Complete radio silence.

Which is exactly why the universe decided to play a cruel joke on her that night.

Ping.

“Verma-Khanna Wedding Family 💍✨”

You’ve been added by Simran Verma.

Anaya frowned.

Khanna? Oh. no.

She clicked the notification with rising dread, already bracing for the impact.

Inside the chat:

Simran: “Family! Meet Karan’s side of the family!

Say hi everyone!!! 👋👋👋”

Right. Karan Khanna.

Simran’s sweet new fiancé with dimples, puppy eyes, and—tragically—a cousin who should’ve stayed permanently blocked from her life.

Ishaan Malhotra has joined the chat.

Her heart sank like bad Wi-Fi at a wedding hall.

Ishaan: “Hi.”

Hi? Hi?? That was it? That was all he had to say after ghosting her life, breaking her heart, and walking away without so much as an “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup speech? like a scene from one of those dramatic TV serials her mom watched religiously?

Before Anaya could recover, the family WhatsApp circus began.

Mom: “Anaya dear, say hello nicely! Don’t be rude.”

Simran: “Omg 😂 This is about to get wild.”

No kidding, Simran.

Wild was being locked in a digital cage with your ex while your entire family hovered like vultures waiting for a Bollywood reunion scene.

Anaya took a deep breath, cracked her knuckles, and typed exactly one word.

Anaya: “Hello.”

Polite. Cold. Emotionally Dead inside. Just how she liked it.

But Ishaan?

Oh no. He wasn’t going to stop at polite. That wasn’t his style.

Ishaan: “Small world, huh?”

Of course.

Of course he had to smirk through the text. She could practically hear his voice, dripping with amusement, irritatingly attractive.

And then came the real horror.

Mom: “Now that we’re all family, we should meet soon! Anaya, dear, send a nice selfie to the group!”

Kill. Her. Now.

As she sat there debating whether to throw her phone into the washing machine or just run away to the mountains, a private notification popped up.

Ishaan (Private Chat):

“Don’t worry. I’ll behave. Unless you start first.” 😏

Her jaw locked. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Oh, it was on.

One sarcastic reply,

and this polite family chat was going to turn into World War WhatsApp.

And frankly?

She was ready for it.

Let the games begin.

_____________________________________

Bye bye lovelies. 👋 See you in the next Chapter to know what happens in Anaya’s life.

Chapter 2: Trending for All the Wrong Reasons

Anaya’s thumb hovered over her keyboard like a warrior with a sword.

One text.

That’s all it would take to remind Ishaan Malhotra exactly who he was messing with.

Anaya (Private Chat):

“Funny how you always behave… when someone’s watching.”

Delivered.

Sharp. Clean. Deadly. Just like her eyeliner on good days.

It didn’t take long for the three little dots to appear. Typing. Typing. Typing.

 Typical Ishaan—always quick with a comeback, slower with apologies.

She could practically hear his stupid smug tone forming on the other side of the screen.

Ishaan:

“Watching? Come on, Verma. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for the wedding. Not for you.”

Oh, he did not just use her own last name like an insult.

Classic Ishaan. Sweet words with sharp edges.

The kind of guy who could hand you a rose—with thorns hidden under his sleeve.

The typing dots popped up again.

Ishaan:

“But since you brought it up… Miss me?”

The nerve of this man.

Two years of silence, heartbreak, and rage…

and here he was, sliding into her life like a discount coupon she never wanted but somehow couldn’t block.

Before she could unleash the full fury of her typing fingers, another notification interrupted her inner dramatic monologue.

But this time—it wasn’t private.

Simran (In Group Chat):

“GUYS GUYS GUYS 😱😱😱 Guess who’s coming to the pre-wedding dinner?!”

No. Absolutely not.

Her stomach dropped like a bad signal at a live cricket match.

Please. No. Anyone but—

Simran: “ISHAAN.”

Anaya could already feel the disaster forming like storm clouds over her carefully maintained peace.

And before anyone else could react:

Mom:

“Wow that’s great, Bring him! It’ll be so nice to meet him properly. Anaya dear you both used to be such good friends, na?”

Friends. FRIENDS?

Anaya wanted to scream.

Friends don’t ghost you. Friends don’t leave you on read for two years. Friends don’t kiss you on rooftops and then disappear like unpaid electricity bills.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, Simran’s evil laughter arrived in the chat:

Simran:

“👀👀👀 This dinner’s going to be spicy.”

Spicy? SPICY?

Anaya could practically see her sister cackling in the next room like a Disney villain over a bubbling cauldron of chaos.

Her phone buzzed again.

Private chat. Of course. Him again.

Ishaan (Private Chat):

“Guess I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

Smiley emoji.😏

Not the polite kind. The smug kind.

The kind that says, “I know exactly how much this annoys you, and I love it.”

Anaya glared at the screen, her pride wounded, her dignity hanging by the thinnest thread, and her inner chaos screaming: I will not let him win.

Tomorrow night. Pre-wedding dinner. Her family. His family. One tiny,overly decorated dining room.

And her ex looking at her like she was dessert on a menu labeled “Bad Decisions I’ll Order Again.”

Wonderful.

Anaya’s decision was clear.

If he wanted war—

she’d bring memes.

Petty. Savage. Full power.

Let's see who wins this time.

_____________________________________

Bye bye lovelies. 👋 See you in the next Chapter to know who wins this war.

Chapter 3: The Pre-Wedding Disaster Dinner

Anaya Verma did not believe in fate.

But as she stood outside the Khanna family bungalow, dressed in an elegant kurta that screamed “sophisticated” and “totally over it,” she had a sinking feeling that fate believed in her.

Correction: Fate hated her.

“My love, smile na,” her mother whispered, nudging her with the sharp precision of every desi mom ever born.

“You’ll scare Karan’s family.”

“I’m already scaring them by existing here,” Anaya muttered under her breath.

The heavy wooden door swung open, unleashing a tidal wave of revealing aunties, uncles, cousins and chaos in full Indian family reunion mode.

Laughter, overlapping conversations, and the unmistakable smell of samosas and questionable life choices filled the air.

And at the center of it all—

Ishaan Malhotra,

Of course.

Standing like some misplaced Bollywood hero, in a crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to be obnoxiously attractive, charming, laughing with two uncles like he owned the place.

Of course he did.

He always had this ridiculous ability to charm rooms, steal attention, and pretend like he didn’t have a long, embarrassing history with the girl now standing awkwardly by the door.

Their eyes met.

His smirk deepened.

Casual. Confident. Dangerous.

Her jaw clenched.

Game. On.

“Anaya!” Simran squealed dramatically, rushing over like she hadn’t just thrown her into a social battlefield for her own entertainment.

“You look sooo nice!”

“I always do,” Anaya said sweetly, stepping inside and conveniently ignoring the way Ishaan’s gaze followed her like a mosquito you just can’t swat no matter how many times you slap the air.

Then came the worst part:

Introductions.

Karan’s mom hugged her like she was already family.

Anaya’s own mom was beaming like she’d already mentally arranged her wedding photos.

And Ishaan? Oh, he was enjoying this way too much.

“Anaya,” he said politely, as if he hadn’t just tried to start World War III on  a private chat last night.

“Nice to see you again.”

She tilted her head. “Strange. Didn’t know liars got invited to family dinners.”

Simran choked on her drink.

Ishaan grin just widened, that frustrating, annoyingly attractive grin.

“Did I lie? I am here for the wedding.”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Anaya shot back, low enough that only he could hear.

For a second, the playful air between them shifted—something sharper cutting underneath the surface. But before it could turn dangerous, someone clapped loudly.

“Selfie time!”

Of course. Aunties and their front-camera angles, the deadliest force known to Indian family functions.

Next thing she knew, Ishaan was standing right next to her, one arm brushing dangerously close to hers, smelling like expensive regret.

Simran: “Say cheese, lovebirds!”

Lovebirds.

Anaya’s polite smile cracked slightly.

Her fingers twitched with the need to text a meme. A sharp one. The kind that could start online riots.

This dinner was going to be disastrous. And deliciously fun.

One accidental selfie.

Two bitter exes.

And the whole family just dying to ship them together.

_____________________________________

Bye bye lovelies. 👋 See you in the next Chapter to know what happens in Anaya’s life.

Will they fight or Will they confess?