When 22-year-old engineering graduate Meera Nair agrees to a fake marriage with Mohan Nambiar-a 32-year-old tech mogul -she expects a transactional escape from her abusive, superstitious family. Not a soulmate.
But Mohan is no stranger.
A millen...
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We sat in the living room, the laptop on my lap and Mohan with his arm draped around me. The lines of code blurred into meaningless symbols.
Mohan pointed at the screen. "See, this is where you'll push your changes. Just make sure you're on the right branch before you commit," he explained in a patient voice.
I nodded, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I tried to follow his instructions, but my mind felt thick, slow. Every command he mentioned seemed to slip away before I could grasp it.
"Wait," I said softly, my chest tightening. "Can you show me again? What's the difference between pull and fetch?"
Mohan leaned closer, his scent filling my space. He took the laptop from me, his fingers flying across the keys with ease.
"Look, it's simple. Fetch gets the changes, but pull brings them into your working tree." He demonstrated, then slid the laptop back toward me. "Now you try."
I fumbled, typing the wrong command. The terminal returned an error in glaring red text.
Mohan sighed. "Come on, Meera, it's not rocket science."
Tears pricked at my eyes. I tried again but got an error message.
Mohan laughed. "Your computer skills are as bad as my kitchen skills."
The words felt like a physical blow.
"I'm not... stupid," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"I know you're not," he said, turning toward me. "I'm just trying to help."
But the dam had already broken. "Do you know what it feels like to feel stupid all the time?" I asked, tears now streaming freely. "Not because you're unintelligent, but because you were never allowed to study at home? Because you had to fight for a moment of quiet? Because you went to a bad college not because you couldn't get in somewhere better, but because it was close to home and they could keep an eye on you?"
Mohan opened his mouth to respond, but I didn't let him.
"I cut classes to work at a pharmacy just so I could buy sanitary pads without having to ask my father for money! So people wouldn't look at me like I was poor! And now... now I have a job, and I still can't prioritize work because there's always something pulling me in another direction!"
I stood up, the laptop nearly sliding off my knees. "You think I like feeling like this? Like I'm always behind, always struggling to keep up?"
Mohan reached for my hand, looking baffled at my outburst. "Meera, I didn't mean..."
"Maybe I should just stick to the kitchen, huh?" I said, my voice cracking. "Since I'm so bad at this."
Before he could say another word, I turned and ran into the room my mother had used. I locked the door behind me and slid to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. I shouldn't blame him. He was being there for me. I knew my anger was completely misplaced. I knew I appeared ungrateful and hateful. But I was so overwhelmed! Vijay, the Serpent Circle, the role my father played in all of this. And my poor, poor mother. Then me...
