Until the Contract Ends
1
The words dropped like a thunderbolt in the quiet lecture hall. I blinked, certain I’d misheard.
My professor—Dr. Rayaan Shah, the same man who made my life miserable for two semesters—was standing there with that cold, unreadable expression he always wore.
Riya
“Excuse me?” I managed, clutching my notebook like a shield. “Did you just—?”
Rayyan
“Yes,” he cut me off sharply. “I need you to marry me.”
Riya
I laughed. A dry, nervous sound. “Right. And I need a vacation in Paris. What’s your next joke, Professor?”
Rayyan
He didn’t even flinch. “It’s not a joke, Miss Riya Mehra. I need a wife—fast. It’s... complicated.”
Riya
“Complicated?” I repeated, stepping back. “You literally failed me in my project last month and now you want to marry me? Are you out of your mind?”
Rayyan
His jaw tightened. “You were late on that submission. Don’t change the topic.”
Riya
I glared at him. “You’re unbelievable.”
Rayyan
He exhaled, voice dropping low—almost pleading. “Listen. My grandfather’s will states that I’ll only inherit the estate if I’m married before my 30th birthday.”
Riya
“And that’s... tomorrow?” I asked, half-mocking, half-stunned.
Rayyan
He hesitated. “In two days.”
Riya
“Oh my God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “There are literally thousands of girls dying to marry you. Why me?”
Rayyan
“Because you’re the only one who won’t expect anything from me,” he said quietly. “You’re practical. You don’t like me. And that’s exactly why this could work.”
Riya
My heart thudded. “Wow, that’s your sales pitch? ‘Marry me because you hate me’?”
Rayyan
He looked me straight in the eye. “I’ll make it worth your while. One year. A legal contract. You’ll get enough money to pay off your student loans and live comfortably after graduation.”
Riya
I froze. My throat felt dry. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Rayyan
He nodded once. “Completely.”
For a moment, the air between us grew heavy. The arrogant professor and his stubborn student—both trapped in a situation neither asked for.
Riya
I swallowed hard. “And after one year?”
Rayyan
“The contract ends. We’ll divorce. No strings attached.”
2
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve laughed in his face. But the memory of my father’s medical bills, my unpaid hostel rent, and my brother’s school fees flashed before me like a cruel reminder.
Riya
I whispered, “What’s the catch?”
Rayyan
His eyes softened—barely. “Just play the role of my wife. Publicly. My family believes I’ve finally ‘settled down.’ Don’t tell anyone it’s a contract.”
Riya
I stared at him, trying to read what hid behind that calm, professional mask. “You really trust me to pull that off?”
Rayyan
He smirked. “I don’t trust you, Riya. I’m counting on the fact that you won’t fall for me.”
That stung more than I wanted to admit.
Riya
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “But I have my conditions too.”
Riya
“One—no controlling my life. Two—no acting like an actual husband when we’re alone. And three—if you ever try to boss me around outside class, the deal’s off.”
Rayyan
He tilted his head, a ghost of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Noted, Mrs. Shah.”
Riya
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t call me that yet.”
Rayyan
He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh, I will. Sooner than you think.”
And just like that, my perfectly predictable life turned into a storm I never saw coming.
3
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, still half-convinced this was some twisted dream.
A red bridal lehenga. Heavy jewelry. Mehendi that spelled a name I barely believed I was marrying—Rayaan.
Rayyan
“Ready?” his deep voice came from the doorway.
Riya
I turned, my breath catching before I could stop it. He looked unfairly good in an ivory sherwani, the same calm expression that made him impossible to read.
Rayyan
“You don’t look happy,” he said flatly
Riya
“Well, I wasn’t exactly waiting my whole life to marry my professor,” I shot back.
Rayyan
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Good. Keeps things simple.”
Simple. Right. Nothing about this was simple. The ceremony, the signatures, the way his family’s eyes softened when they looked at me—believing I was truly his choice.
When the priest said, “You may now apply sindoor,” my hands trembled. He didn’t hesitate. Just leaned in, brushed his fingers across my hairline, and whispered, low enough for only me to hear—
Rayyan
“From this moment, Mrs. Shah, you belong to my world.”
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to stay still. It’s just a contract, I reminded myself. Twelve months. Then freedom.
The house looked like a palace. His family greeted us with smiles and blessings, while I kept pretending this wasn’t the strangest night of my life.
When we finally reached his room—our room—I froze at the sight of the giant bed covered in rose petals.
Rayyan
“You can relax,” he said dryly, unbuttoning his sherwani cuffs. “We won’t play husband and wife in here. The contract doesn’t demand that.”
Riya
“Thank God,” I muttered, grabbing my bag.
Rayyan
His gaze flicked to me. “You can use the left side of the closet. And Riya—”
Rayyan
He took a slow step closer, voice calm but firm. “My family must believe this marriage is real. That means you’ll attend family dinners, talk politely, and smile when they ask how happy we are. Understood?”
Riya
I folded my arms. “And when you bark orders at me like I’m still your student?”
Rayyan
He arched a brow. “Then you’ll remind me you’re my wife—for now.”
The air between us grew tense, thick with something neither of us wanted to name.
Rayyan
Finally, he turned away. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start pretending for real.”
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