The café buzzed softly with quiet conversations, the faint clatter of cups, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifting through the air. Sunlight filtered through the large glass windows, casting warm streaks of light across the wooden tables.
At one of those tables, tension sat thicker than the scent of coffee.
Meher crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture rigid. Her eyes were sharp, guarded.
"I have my own reasons."
Across from her, Zayn leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully. A low chuckle escaped him, calm and unbothered.
"So do I for not saying no."
Meher's glare could have burned through steel. For a few seconds she held his gaze, her eyes filled with irritation. Then, as if refusing to give him the satisfaction, she turned her face toward the window.
Outside, the city moved on normally. Inside, the air between them felt like a storm waiting to break.
Zayn leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.
"Alright," he said casually. "What's the reason you can't deny it?"
Meher slowly placed both her hands on the table, her fingers curling against the wood.
"It's none of your business."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Then denying the marriage isn't my business either."
Frustration flashed across her face. Meher ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back impatiently before abruptly standing up.
She was done with this conversation.
But Zayn didn't move.
Leaning back in his chair again, he spoke calmly, his voice almost lazy.
"What if—"
"I don't want to hear you," Meher snapped, spinning around to face him again.
Zayn finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. This time there was no amusement in his eyes.
His voice was firm.
"Then don't come looking for me again. And don't expect me to let you go."
Anger sparked in Meher's eyes instantly.
She leaned toward him across the table, one hand gripping the armrest of the chair, the other pressing firmly against the table.
"Why are you suddenly so obsessed with me?"
Zayn chuckled, holding her gaze.
"Obsessed? With you?"
For a moment his smile lingered, but then it faded slightly, replaced by something far more serious.
"I just have my reasons to keep you close."
Meher straightened immediately.
"We're already business partners. What more do you want?"
Zayn didn't hesitate.
"A contract marriage."
The words fell between them like a stone dropping into still water.
For a second, Meher didn't move.
Her hands trembled slightly.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as if she had misheard him.
Slowly, she stood up straight, grabbed the glass of water sitting on the table—
and threw it directly at his face.
Water splashed across Zayn's hair and jaw, dripping down onto his shirt.
"I think you're still not fully awake."
The sound of the splash seemed to echo through the café.
Everything stopped.
Conversations halted mid-sentence. Cups paused halfway to lips. Even the barista behind the counter stared in shock.
For a moment, it felt like time itself had frozen.
Water trickled down Zayn's face. He flinched slightly, completely caught off guard.
A flash of rage flickered in his eyes.
But he forced himself to stay calm.
"I take it," he said coolly, wiping water from his cheek, "you didn't like the idea."
Meher slammed the empty glass onto the table.
"Isn't that obvious?"
Zayn calmly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face and hair.
"Then get ready for a real marriage."
"Never," Meher replied instantly, folding her arms tightly.
A smirk tugged at Zayn's lips.
"Your 'never' doesn't change my decision."
Only then did Zayn notice the attention surrounding them.
His gaze swept across the café.
It took only one cold look.
People quickly turned away, pretending they hadn't been watching at all.
Satisfied, Zayn stood up.
He slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket before stepping closer to Meher.
Leaning slightly toward her ear, he spoke quietly.
"Either it's a real marriage… or a contract one."
His voice dropped lower.
"Your choice."
Then he straightened, sliding his hands into his pockets.
"Trust me," he added calmly, "I don't want a real one either."
He paused before finishing.
"Think about it. It benefits us both."
Meher stood there, frozen.
For the first time since the conversation began, she couldn't find a single word to say.
Zayn watched her for a moment longer.
Then he turned and walked out of the café as if nothing unusual had happened.
Outside, he opened the door of his car and got in.
Pulling out his phone, he made a call.
"Prepare the papers."
The voice on the other end hesitated.
"Did she agree?"
Zayn's jaw tightened.
"Yes or no doesn't matter. Do your job," he snapped. "I pay you not her."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Zayn exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.
"She'll agree," he muttered. "Sooner or later… she has no other choice."
"Alright, sir," the man replied. "I'll get everything ready."
Meanwhile, inside the café, Meher still hadn't moved.
She stood there like a statue, staring at the table.
Slowly, she sank back into her chair.
Her hands covered her face as confusion and frustration swirled in her mind.
"Did he even realize what he said?" she whispered softly to herself.
"Was it a joke to him?"
Just then, the barista approached quietly and placed a glass of iced Americano in front of her.
Meher looked up.
The barista gave her a small, understanding smile.
She returned it faintly.
Without saying a word, he walked away.
Meher took a slow sip of the cold coffee.
"I really needed this right now," she murmured.
Then she sighed deeply.
"How did I even lose my patience like that?"
After sitting there for a while, she finally stood up.
She paid the bill quietly and walked out of the café.
But one thought still echoed in her mind.
A contract marriage…