The pilot’s smooth voice came over the intercom.

“Mr. Mukherjee, we will be landing in Kolkata in twenty minutes. Please fasten your seat belt.”

I smiled faintly, my eyes fluttering open, and tightened the belt across my tailored jacket. Outside, the city spread beneath us like a living mosaic with bridges glinting in the afternoon sun, rivers curling like silver threads and buildings clustered in uneven patterns.

Ah, Kolkata. My hometown. Coming back here always felt… complicated. Part of me resented it, yet another part could never ignore it's pull.

I leaned back, letting the gentle hum of the engines wash over me.

True to his word, we touched down precisely twenty minutes later. I rose, exchanged polite goodbyes with the pilot and stewardess, and stepped off the plane toward the waiting car on the runway.

“Good afternoon, young master. Welcome home,” the chauffeur greeted warmly, bowing slightly as he opened the door.

“Good afternoon, uncle,” I replied with a small smile, sliding into the cool leather seat.

He was one of the old ones, working for us for more than ten years probably.

I switched on my phone the moment I settled in the backseat and dialed my mother’s number.

“Riv, you’ve landed?” her voice came warm and hurried through the receiver.

“Yes, Mom. I’m heading home straight. Where are you?” I asked, glancing at the city rolling past the tinted windows.

“I was out somewhere, but I’m on my way back too. Don’t worry, Inayat is there, and your father as well.”

My jaw tightened the second she said that name. Inayat.

But I forced my voice to be lighter and smoother. “Great. We’ll talk once we meet. I’ll hang up now.”

“Yes, yes! Bye, see you soon.”

“Bye.” I ended the call quickly, the screen going black in my hand.

I sighed, my gaze falling on the wedding band around my ring finger.

Inayat. My wife.

On paper, that’s all she was.

I felt nothing for her, never had, and neither did she.

To the world, we were the picture-perfect couple, the ones everyone adored. But behind closed doors, our marriage was nothing more than a battlefield like snake and mongoose, always circling and always ready to strike.

After a short drive, I reached home, earlier than Mom.

The first to greet me was my father, just returning from his round of golf, judging by the polo shirt, cap, and club still in his hand.

“Good to see you back in town, young champ!” he beamed, pulling me into a hug. “This house finally feels alive when you’re here. Otherwise, it’s just me surrounded by all the ladies.”

I chuckled. “Good to see you too, Dad.”

He smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Go on, freshen up. Inayat must be in the room.”

I nodded and made my way to the master bedroom, ours, though it never really felt like it.

Pushing the door open, I found Inayat sitting at the dressing table, draped in a lavender silk robe. Her hair, set in soft curler.

“Look who’s back.” Her voice was velvety and amused.

“Your beloved husband is back in town, darling,” I said coldly, tugging at my tie and loosening it around my neck.

“You are my beloved, Riv. My darling too,” she replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s just you who refuses to accept me.”

I tossed the tie onto the laundry bucket, then shrugged out of my jacket and let it drop on that. “Why should I accept a woman I don’t even love?”

“Love, love, love.” She rolled her eyes, pouring herself a glass of water. “Stop acting like a poet. Love doesn’t exist. People like us just… accept and adjust.”

I stared into the mirror as I unbuttoned my vest. My reflection looked back at me with that same solemn expression I always wore when the word love slipped from my mouth. “You wouldn’t understand,” I said quietly. “You’ve never been in love.”

That familiar scent drifted through my mind, the soft sweetness of coconut oil. Not Inayat's. Never hers. The smell that once wrapped me in comfort and peace. The smell of her.

She took a sip of water, watching me in the mirror with an unreadable gaze. “And you have? Fallen in love?”

“Yes,” I admitted, eyes lowering.

She started laughing lightly and mockingly, like she was entertained. “Talking about another woman in front of your wife. Tell me, what kind of husband does that make you?”

“A very bad husband,” I muttered, jaw tightening as I avoided her eyes. My gaze snapped back to the mirror, where my own haunted eyes stared back. “A very bad lover,” I whispered to myself.

"Husband, accept me. Try to love me, and you'll see, everything will change," she said.

I shook my head. "I can't. I can't love you."

I turned to see her expression, because my words had been harsh. But of course, she was unaffected. After all, the meaning of love was never the same for her as it was for me.

"I heard you're sleeping with the mayor's son," I said, rolling up my sleeves.

"Mm. Yes," she replied as if confessing something trivial. "He’s cute. Handsome. I feel in love love with him the moment I saw him at the mayor’s birthday party."

"That’s lust, not love. Don’t throw that word around so recklessly," I muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She leaned back, lips curving slightly. "Whatever, old man. But he’s still better than Raju."

I frowned. "Raju? Who’s Raju? I thought your ex was Riju."

She gave a careless shrug. "Oh—yeah, whatever. Raju, Riju…" She rolled her eyes, as if the details hardly mattered

“Be careful, or you might catch STDs,” I said flatly.

“It’s not like you’ll ever have sex with me, so why are you worried?”

“Because if you do, no one will think it’s you whoring around. They’ll blame me.”

“Whoring around?” She rolled her eyes, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “I just want to have some fun in life. Is it my fault you don’t even want to touch me?”

“Even before our marriage, you used to sleep with countless guys. So don’t twist this on me.”

“I’m not blaming you.” Her voice softened, almost sweet, “In fact, I love you for accepting me as I am. Thank you… really.”

I flinched at the word. “Don’t throw that word around so carelessly!”

“You might as well start worshipping it.”

“Yeah, sure.” I leaned back on the bed, shutting my eyes to end the conversation.

Before I was even born, my mother had already decided there would only be one woman in my life that is her best friend’s daughter, Inayat.

I practically grew up with her. They thought raising us side by side would naturally build a strong connection between us.

But they were so wrong. Because to me, she became nothing less than a sister.

I tried reasoning with my mother, telling her I didn’t love Inayat and shouldn’t marry her. But she only asked me—then who do you love? I had no answer.

Because…it’s complicated.

With no solid reason to fight back, I eventually gave in. And we ended up marrying each other.

I still remember our wedding night as clearly as if it were yesterday.

Inayat was glowing with excitement, telling me she couldn’t wait to take my virginity, how she had always wondered what being with me would feel like.

But for what felt like the five hundredth time, I reminded her: I don’t love her. This marriage was forced on me.

Her reply, as always, was, “Stop with your nonsense.”

I had begged her again and again to find a way to cancel the wedding, to escape this marriage. But she was too stubborn, determined to be the obedient daughter her parents wanted and determined to marry me, no matter what.

After marriage, every day we talked about divorce. And every day, the answer was the same.

Anyway, back to the wedding night. I told her I couldn’t touch the woman I loved, and I couldn’t even share the same bed.

She thought it was weird, but seeing how stubborn I was, she eventually fell asleep in my bed while I took the couch.

The next day, I had two beds installed in our room—one for her and one for me.

But most of the time, I end up sleeping in my office. There’s a small bed there, and even a bathroom.

When people asked why we had two beds, we’d just say it was for when we fought.

I never told my mother that I was in a loveless marriage. That would’ve broken her heart… to see me unhappy.

So, I stopped saying I didn’t like my wife. Instead, I acted like I did.

But whom did I really like? No one.

Whom did I really love? No one.

Actually, yes—that’s the truth. I don’t love anyone. It would be foolish to say I don’t get intimate with anyone or build romantic connections just because of a child.

Yes, a literal child. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m a pedophile. But I swear I’m not. I have never done anything wrong to anyone’s child, never even thought about it.

When I was a kid, there was a girl. She was either my age or a year younger, I don’t remember exactly. Her father worked as a chauffeur for our family.

Her name was Mimi. At least, that’s what her father used to call her.

I remember her clearly, always wearing old frocks that always seemed out of fashion compared to Inayat’s dresses. Her messy brown hair, barely held together by a simple hairband. Those shy eyes.

She was the girl I played ghar ghar with. The one I watched Chhota Bheem with.

(Ghar Ghar: House House

Chhota Bheem is a popular cartoon in India)

My first love.

Even now, my heart breaks at the thought of her.

After I left for America to study, I never saw her again. Whenever I came back, I tried asking around, searching and asking the drivers if they had a daughter named Mimi. But no one did.

It was as if she had never existed. As if it had all been just a dream.

I asked Inayat too, sometimes she said she remembered Mimi, and other times she said she didn’t. I never dared to ask my mother.

But because of that one girl, I never entered a real relationship. I didn’t even take my marriage seriously.

I ruined myself.

I am wasted.

A failure. A loser.

And yet… I can’t help it.

Maybe she never existed, and it was all in my head. Or maybe she did exist, and we will remain forever strangers to each other’s lives.

But if only she knew that I love her. I wish I could see how she looks now, probably still cute. Back then, to me, she was the cutest girl I had ever seen in my five years of life.

Maybe now she has a boyfriend, or maybe she’s married. Maybe she loves someone else and even has kids.

The truth is, she never showed any interest in me. I’m not talking about romance, we didn’t even know what romance was back then. But even as a friend, she used to run away from me.

There’s no point in thinking about the past or my so-called love life. Because for me, there is no love life.

The only thing that matters is my company—a legacy I have to uphold. My ancestors were excellent businessmen, and I have to maintain their name. The only thing that matters is making my family proud.

Especially my mother. My only weakness.

A woman I could never say no to. And because of her, I also couldn’t say no to this marriage.

But it’s good, actually, marrying Inayat.

We both have no expectations from each other.

I know her well. Since she was a kid, she used to have crushes on multiple boys. As a teenager, she dated more than one at a time—once, even ten together. She got caught once, and I had to save her by making excuses about her having mental health issues and even last-stage cancer.

I tried convincing her she’d regret it one day. But no, she never did. She never changed. It’s in her nature. She can’t stay with one person; she gets bored too easily.

And I don’t complain about her affairs. She knows that, and that’s why she doesn’t divorce me. Still, I don’t like the idea of living in such a complicated marriage.

But it’s better to be with her than anyone else. At least she has no expectations from me. She lets me be. She doesn’t care if I go on business trips alone, avoid spending time with her, or even refuse to share the same room. She doesn’t complain if I don’t give her the love and care a husband should.

If it was someone else, they might expect those things from me. Which is normal. But I can’t.

Because love has no place in my life. All I care about is money, power, fame, family, and the brand name.

And whenever I think of love, only one person comes to mind. That girl. That imaginary girl who probably doesn't even exist.

So yes, I’m hopeless and happily single.

•••

There was a knock on the door, pulling me back from my thoughts. The door creaked open, and there she was. . . my mother, standing with that cheeky grin of hers.

"Riv!" she squealed, rushing towards me.

I couldn’t help but smile back as I wrapped her in a hug. "Mom..." I kissed her head, breathing in her familiar and warm scent.

God, I missed her.

What can I say? I’m such a Mumma’s boy.

I kissed her head again and held her tighter, not wanting to let go.

"Ohhh! I can’t breathe! Let go of me, Riv—you still act like a kid," she laughed, patting my arm.

Reluctantly, I loosened my grip and gave her a sheepish smile, almost like a puppy begging for treats. Honestly, I could feel my inner child take over whenever she was around.

"How was my sweet boy? Did he miss me?" she asked, pinching my cheeks the way she always used to.

I nodded quickly. "Mm hmm," I mumbled, pouting like a little kid.

“Missed me so much, yet couldn’t come home for three months, huh?” she teased.

“I had work, Mom. You know that. We’re planning to open a new branch in Russia,” I said.

“Really?! Then our company will be international!” she gasped.

I smirked. “Yes. Our bank will finally be international.”

“Oh my God! I am so, so proud of you!” She kissed my head. “My good boy,” another kiss on my cheek, “my intelligent boy.”

I smiled, my heart fluttering.

Yeah. This is why I work so hard, day and night.

For this lovely bundle of joy, I could do anything. Even sacrifice my whole life.

"But let’s sit down, I have something to discuss with you," she said, making me sit on the bed.

She glanced at Inaayat, then back at me. She looked nervous.

I looked at Inaayat, she looked nervous as well.

What’s going on?

"Actually… you know how much your grandfather has been urging us for an heir to this empire. And how much we also wanted this to happen. You know everything, right? We really need a child from you," she said softly.

I nodded.

I knew this. We really do need an heir. I don’t want the empire we built to fall into the hands of people who are not our blood.

My father had two siblings: one sister who lives in London, completely disconnected from our company, and she doesn’t want any share. His elder brother died in his teenage years.

My father has two sons: me and my younger brother.

My younger brother is gay. I respect his choice, but he has no interest in the business, nor could he ever have a child.

So the only one left… is me.

But I will not sleep with anyone. And since Inaayat cannot be a mother, artificial insemination isn’t an option either.

"So, I was thinking of a surrogate mother," she said.

"Oh, that’s great news. You made a good decision," I replied with a smile.

But her nervous expression didn’t fade.

"What?" I glanced at Inayat, who now wore a cold expression.

"Inayat? You have a problem with it?" I asked.

"Inayat wants the insemination process to be natural, not artificial. That’s her condition. Otherwise, she won’t agree," my mother explained.

I frowned.

What the fuck…?!

"Inayat, what’s the meaning of this?" I asked.

She didn’t answer, just looked at me sternly.

With that same stubborn expression.

"Why would you demand something like this, baby? You actually want your husband to sleep with another woman?" I pressed.

Again, she said nothing.

Eh… What the actual fuck?

I turned to my mother. "Mom, can I speak with her alone?"

She nodded. "Hmm…" and left the room.

As soon as her footsteps faded outside, I snapped.

"What the fuck, woman? What's your problem? Why are you so obsessed with me losing my virginity?!"

Inayat smirked coldly. "I want to prove to your family that we’re not childless just because I’m infertile, but because you’re also impotent. Now let’s show the world what you really are."

I frowned, disbelief flashing through me. "Have you lost your mind?! Why would you even want that? Just divorce me if it bothers you so much! I can raise a child on my own."

Her eyes hardened. "No, baby, you’re bound to me. I’m never leaving you. But first, I’ll prove to your family that I’m not the problem here—that you’re the one who can’t even get hard. That you’re gay, just like your brother."

That struck a nerve.

"How dare you drag my brother into this?! He’s gay—so what?!"

She sneered. "Both brothers are dickless. At least he uses his butthole. And look at you impoten—"

"INAAYAT!"

"Shut up! I’m tired of your bullshit!" she cried. "If only you had ever slept with me once, I wouldn’t have done this… I would have let you go through the artificial insemination process."

Ah. That’s where the rage comes from.

There’s not a single man who has ever rejected her advances… besides me. So it’s her ego, bruised and flaring.

But I will not sleep with her. I’d rather have sex with a surrogate than her.

"Fine. I’ll agree to your condition. I’ll sleep with the surrogate mother… I also need to know how this sex you’re so obsessed with feels," I said, voice cold.

"Ha! You’d rather sleep with a surrogate than me? You bastard!"

"Yeah. I don’t want to risk STDs. Even the surrogate probably has fewer body counts than you," I said, turning away and leaving the room.

I had never had sex because I didn’t believe in sleeping with a woman I didn’t love. But… does it even matter now?

There’s no love life for me. None.

I wouldn’t have slept with a random stranger. I wouldn’t have had to break my principle. But this, this hit a nerve.

I will prove her wrong. I can get hard. I can have sex.

And I will—with the surrogate mother. At least she’ll provide me with an heir, not STDs.

A business deal, nothing more.

I stepped into my parents’ room. My mother was working on her laptop. She looked up when she noticed me.

"I’ll do it," I said, voice calm. "Inayat’s condition stays. Just tell me when."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

I nodded once. "Yes. But I want the surrogate to be fully cooperative… and healthy. No complications."

She chuckled, almost teasing. "Of course. You’ll like her."

I arched an eyebrow. "You’ve already chosen?"

"Yes."

I nodded. "Good. Then let’s move forward."

I was heading back to my room when I saw Inayat storm out, heels clattering against the floor, like the world owed her something.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To collect more STDs!" she shot back without slowing down.

"What?"

"I have a date with Rajiv. I’ll be back tomorrow," she snapped.

"Great," I muttered, "finally some peace."

"Fuck you!" she yelled, disappearing around the corner.

I let out a dry chuckle and closed the door behind me. Peace… sort of.

But the thought of having sex with a stranger made my chest tighten. I had said it boldly, but could I actually go through with it?

What if I froze? What if she waited, all naked and expectant,

and I couldn’t…get hard, stay soft? Couldn't perform?

"Breaking news: Chairman of Regal Capital Bank is impotent!" I imagined the headlines. Laughter everywhere. Humiliation in bold.

I took a deep breath. Maybe a glass of wine would help.

No woman had ever made me hard. Not once.

And yet, this was different. Business. Duty. Legacy.

I could do this. I had to.

I had to prove that witch wrong.