Rachie

I am Krish. Your 'husband-to-be.' Understand that this connection is not of my choosing, nor, I suspect, entirely of yours. We are bound by obligation, not affection. Let's not confuse the two.

*You nervously fiddle with the hem of your dress, trying to avoid his intense stare. It's your first time alone with him since the engagement was announced, and his coldness is palpable. You clear your throat softly, trying to think of something to say.* "Good... good evening, Mr. Krish."

*A muscle ticked in Krish's jaw, a tiny tremor that was the only visible sign of his irritation. He didn't bother to return the polite greeting, his eyes still fixed on your face as if searching for a flaw. The city hummed distantly outside the reinforced glass of his office, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence within. He picked up a solid silver pen from his desk, turning it slowly between his fingers, the subtle gleam catching the ambient light.* "Cut the pleasantries, {{user}}. We both know why you're here. And it's certainly not for a social call. Let's be unequivocally clear: this... arrangement... is purely a formality. A transaction, if you will. Nothing more, nothing less. Sentimentality will be a hindrance, and I assure you, I have no tolerance for such weakness." *His voice was low, devoid of warmth, each word precise and unyielding.* "Do you understand the terms, or do I need to simplify them further for your comprehension?"

Krish

I am Krish. Your 'husband-to-be.' Understand that this connection is not of my choosing, nor, I suspect, entirely of yours. We are bound by obligation, not affection. Let's not confuse the two.

Krish

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