Prem Pathik

Ch 3 - Caught in the Crossfire

That girl is nothing but trouble, a complete nutcase. She needs serious help, maybe even a reality check. If anyone's blind here, it's her, not me. She should get her eyes checked because she's clearly blind to reality.

She was trouble with a capital T, and I had enough on my plate without adding her drama to the mix. Besides, I've got a reputation to uphold, and getting tangled up with someone like her is the last thing I need. So, with a heavy sigh, I made a mental note to head clear of that mad girl. After all, I've got bigger fish to fry than getting involved in her circus.

"Hey, what's bugging you, bro?" Rafiq's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, returning me to reality. He's been sticking to me like glue since we were kids, always finding a way to tease me.

I shot him a glare, my irritation still simmering beneath the surface. "Just some annoying girl who decided to stomp all over my foot and then act like it was my fault," I grumbled, rubbing my temples in frustration.

He chuckled, slapping me on the back. "Ah, don't let it get to you, buddy. Some people are just born troublemakers."

"Yeah, well, she's taking it to a whole new level," I muttered, casting a disdainful glance toward the girl.

He followed my gaze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "She? You're actually talking about a girl? I thought I was hearing things. Is she my future bhabi?" (sister-in-law) He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I shot him a deadly glare. "Never mind, forget I said anything," I replied curtly, turning away from the scene before me.

I was in the middle of a conversation when I got summoned over by my parents and a couple of other folks. As I approached, I noticed they were two older people, probably family friends. I gave them a respectful nod but couldn't care less inside. They seemed genuine enough, but I wasn't in the mood for small talk about how they supposedly knew me when I was a kid.

"Ah, there he is!" my dad exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically for my liking. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Rahman, old friends of the family. They told us about when you climbed that tree in our backyard and got stuck."

I resisted the urge to let out an exasperated sigh. Great, that's just what I needed, more people recalling my childhood accidents. I plastered on a tight-lipped smile and muttered a polite greeting, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Mr. Rahman, with a figure that withstood his age, chuckled warmly. "Haan, shaitaner moto chhilo toh tum ekhon! Shob shomoy khotiye pore jeto."
(Translation: Yeah, you were the pretty little devil back then! Always landing yourself in trouble.)

Mrs. Rahman, her flowing black hair adding to her charm, smiled affectionately and fondly. "Tui ektu khyatiyasha chhilo, shob somoy amader bishesh korar shathe amader moharom kore jeto."
(Translation: You were a bit superstar, always making our visits memorable with your antics.)

I nodded along, mentally calculating the seconds until I could escape. As they continued to regale my parents with stories from the past, I couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment. These people may have known me as a kid, but that was a lifetime ago. I had no interest in reliving those memories or pretending to be someone I wasn't.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my parents excused themselves to attend to other guests, leaving me alone with the Rahmans.

"So, what have you been up to these days, young man?" Mr. Rahman asked, his eyes twinkling with interest.

I shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to tell personal details to individuals. "Oh, you know, this and that," I replied vaguely.

Mrs. Rahman leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Any special lady in your life, perhaps?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Here we go again with the marriage talk. "Not at the moment," I replied curtly, hoping to shut down that conversation topic.

But she wasn't about to let it go that easily. "Well, you're still young. Plenty of time to settle down," she insisted with a reassuring smile.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to maintain a polite facade. "Right, plenty of time," I echoed, though inside, I couldn't help but feel annoyed. Why did everyone feel the need to meddle in my personal life? Couldn't they see that I was perfectly pleased on my own?

As we exchanged formalities, I couldn't help but notice a familiar figure hovering nearby. It was her again, the girl who always seemed to pop up at the most inconvenient times. And wouldn't you know it, they introduced her as their daughter. Just my luck.

I couldn't help but internally groan at the sight of her. Trouble with a capital T, that one. The kind of girl who thrived on chaos and unpredictability. The last thing I needed was to get entangled with someone like her. I made a mental note to keep my distance and avoid unnecessary interactions.

But, of course, life loves to throw curveballs.

I tried my best to keep my cool, but inside, I was seething. This girl was like a magnet for chaos; I wanted no part. But before I could summon a polite excuse to leave, my parents dropped the bombshell.

"We've been thinking," my mom suddenly appeared and began, exchanging a knowing look with the troublemaker girl's parents. "Why don't you two kids grab refreshments while we catch up?"

I nearly choked on the air, trying to hold back a groan. Hang out with her? Was this some twisted form of punishment? But as I looked around at the expectant faces of our parents, I realized they were serious.

And just like that, my worst nightmare became a reality.

But as much as I wanted to protest, it seemed hopeless. My parents had made up their minds, and there was no talking them out of it. They threw me under the bus, forcing me into a conversation with her? Unbelievable.

•••

Get ready for the drama to unfold! Will sparks fly between the bothered billionaire and the troublemaker girl? Or will they clash like oil and water? Share your predictions below!