Ana slammed her bedroom door and leaned against it, her heart thumping so hard she felt it might burst through her ribs. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she could still feel the phantom gaze of Aryan Roy piercing through her neem-plastered face.
"Oh my God... that was too close!" she whispered, wiping a bead of cold sweat that was threatening to melt the green mask. "One more second, one more crack in this mud, and I would have been history. Miss Puddle would have been unmasked right in her own dining room!"
She paced around the room like a trapped bird, her mind racing. "But wait... why is he still here? Why is Mr. Arrogant chatting with my Dad as if they're long-lost buddies? He got the file, didn't he? He should have zoomed away in his fancy Porsche by now!"
Panic began to rise again. If Aryan stayed any longer, her father might call her down again, or worse, Aryan might get suspicious and come looking for the 'Green Therapy' girl. She needed him out. Now.
She grabbed her phone with trembling, green-stained fingers and dialed Shila.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up..." she muttered.
"Hello? Ana?" Shila's voice sounded weak and tired. "Did you talk to your Dad? Did he say anything about the marriage?"
"Forget about the marriage for a second, Shila! We have an emergency!" Ana hissed. "You need to text Aryan Roy. Right this second!"
"What? Why?" Shila asked, sounding completely bewildered. "I thought we were avoiding him! Why would I text him now? Can't you just talk to him in the evening about canceling the wedding?"
"There is no evening, Shila! Aryan is literally sitting in my living room, having tea with my Dad!"
"WHAT?!" Shila shrieked so loudly that Ana had to pull the phone away from her ear. "What is he doing at your house? Does he know? Did he find out you're not me?"
"I'll explain everything later!" Ana snapped, checking the door to make sure no one was outside. "I'm currently disguised as a swamp monster, and my Dad thinks I've lost my mind. Just do as I say! Message him right now. Tell him you want to meet him for lunch or something urgent. Anything! Just give him a reason to leave my house immediately!"
"Okay, okay! I'm doing it!" Shila stammered. "But Ana... if he says yes, what are we going to do at lunch?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it! Just send it!"
Ana hung up and pressed her ear against the door, waiting. Downstairs, she heard a faint ding—the sound of a notification. A few moments later, the deep, rumbling voice of Aryan Roy reached her ears.
"I'm sorry, Uncle, but it seems I have an urgent matter to attend to," Aryan said. Ana could practically hear the smirk in his voice even through the floorboards. "It seems my future bride is quite eager to see me."
Ana closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "Thank God," she whispered. "Now get out of here, Mr. Arrogant, before I actually turn into a tree!"
She watched through the window curtains as the black Porsche finally roared to life and sped away. But as she looked at her reflection in the mirror—a green, muddy mess with a towel on her head—she realized the game had just reached a whole new level of dangerous.
The phone in Ana's hand vibrated. It was Shila, sounding like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
"Ana! It's done!" Shila gasped. "I told him it was urgent, and he said yes immediately. He's coming to Paris Café in 30 minutes! Can you make it? Are you out of that green mud yet?"
"I'm already halfway there, Shila! Just stay calm and meet me at the back table. I'm coming to finish this once and for all," Ana replied, her voice filled with a soldier's resolve.
Fifteen minutes later, Ana stormed into the café, looking radiant in a casual yet chic outfit, her skin glowing—thankfully free of the neem pack. Shila was already there, shaking like a leaf.
"Ana, maybe we should just tell your Dad?" Shila whispered. "If we tell the truth—"
"Are you crazy, Shila?!" Ana hissed, leaning across the table. "You want me to walk up to my father and say, 'Hey Dad, remember how I pretended to be Shila and accidentally made a billionaire fall in love with me?' He'd have a heart attack! No. Today, I am canceling this wedding, no matter what it takes."
Just as Ana was trying to catch her breath, the roar of a high-performance engine silenced the entire street. Every head in the café turned toward the window.
A sleek, blood-red Ferrari screeched to a halt right in front of the entrance. The sunlight bounced off its polished curves, but it was the man who stepped out that stole the show. Aryan Roy emerged, looking like a literal god in a charcoal-grey tailored suit. He adjusted his sunglasses, his aura radiating power and a cold, dangerous charm.
The café erupted in whispers.
"Who is he?"
"Is he a movie star?"
"Look at that car!"
Ana and Shila sat frozen. For a few seconds, even Ana forgot to breathe. Her heart gave a treacherous thump. 'Why... why does this arrogant jerk have to be so breathtakingly handsome?' she thought bitterly. 'It's not fair for one person to have that much money and that face!'
Shaking herself out of the trance, Ana turned to Shila. "He's here. Go! Hide in the washroom or leave through the back. If he sees us together, we're dead!"
Shila didn't need to be told twice; she vanished into the shadows just as the bells above the café door chimed.
The atmosphere in the room shifted the moment Aryan walked in. He didn't look at the crowd; his eyes were locked onto the table where Ana sat. He walked with a predator's grace, each step deliberate.
He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, a slow, mocking smirk spreading across his face.
"So," Aryan said, his voice deep and smooth. "You called me here urgently. I'm waiting, Miss Shila. What is so important that you couldn't wait until the evening?"