The proposal - 2

Four hours later, it was 1:00 PM.

Priya and Arjun were sitting on the large sofa in the living room. Their bags were already packed and sitting by the front door. Arjun was still wearing his sheer pink saree, his massive padding, and his stiletto heels.

The television was on, tuned to a major national news channel.

Suddenly, the regular broadcast cut away. A bold red banner flashed across the bottom of the screen: BREAKING NEWS: MAJOR ARRESTS IN GOVERNMENT CONTRACT SCANDAL.

The news anchor looked breathless. "We are getting live reports that the Anti-Corruption Bureau has just raided the downtown offices of billionaire venture capitalist Vikram Singh. Authorities say an anonymous source leaked highly classified ledgers proving massive bribery. Mr. Singh has been taken into police custody."

The screen showed live video of Vikram. He was in handcuffs, being shoved into the back of a police van. His arrogant face was twisted in absolute, panicked terror.

Priya and Arjun jumped off the sofa. Arjun let out a loud, beautiful laugh, his thick glass bangles clashing together joyfully as he threw his arms around Priya’s neck. They hugged each other so tightly they could barely breathe.

Right at that moment, Priya's phone started ringing. The caller ID said Vikram.

Priya smiled—a cold, victorious smile. She picked up the phone, swiped to answer, and put it on speaker.

"Priya!" Vikram screamed through the phone. His voice was frantic. "Someone hacked my encrypted files! The police are here! You need to go into my study, take the black laptop, and burn it immediately!"

"I can't do that, Vikram," Priya said smoothly. "Because I am the one who sent those files to Rohan this morning. He handed them directly to the police."

There was a dead, horrifying silence on the other end of the line.

"You... you did this?" Vikram whispered, his massive ego shattering. "How? How did you get the decryption key? Nobody enters that room except..."

Vikram stopped. The realization hit him.

Arjun leaned down toward the phone. He took a deep breath, dropping his fake, soft, breathy voice, and spoke with his own natural, confident tone.

"You were so busy staring at my chest, Vikram," Arjun said. "You were so busy looking at my deep blouse, my sheer saree, and my heavy jewelry. You thought I was just a stupid, submissive doll. But you just let the perfect spy into your house. Enjoy prison, Vikram."

"Arjun?!" Vikram gasped, sounding completely broken. "You... you spied on me?"

"I submitted to my wife," Arjun said proudly. "I only wore these clothes to distract you. You thought you could buy my devotion and lock me in a cage. But you lost."

Priya ended the call. She threw the phone onto the sofa. "Let's go home."

Late that evening, a private taxi pulled into their quiet, gated neighborhood in Mumbai.

Priya and Arjun stepped out. They walked up to the front door of their massive bungalow. Priya unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The house was dark, quiet, and exactly as they had left it. It was theirs. Rohan had kept his word. The three-crore loan was entirely paid off, and their savings account was full.

Arjun stepped inside. He was still wearing his sheer pink saree, his deep velvet blouse, and his massive padding. But as he looked around their beautiful living room, the clothes no longer felt like a heavy armor he wore for war. They felt like his own skin again.

He kicked off his six-inch stiletto heels, leaving them by the door, and let his bare feet sink into the soft, familiar rug. He unpinned his heavy low bun, letting his long, dark hair fall freely over his bare shoulders.

"We are safe," Priya whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Arjun walked over to her, his silver anklets chiming their sweet, familiar chham-chham. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "We are safe. We never have to run again."

Priya rested her forehead against his. "You saved us, Arjun. Your bravery... you saved our sanctuary."

"We saved each other," Arjun murmured, kissing her cheek gently.

Arjun turned and walked into his beautiful, warm kitchen. He turned on the lights. He picked up his favorite stainless steel pot and turned on the gas stove to make fresh tea.

As he worked, his heavy pink glass bangles clinked together, making a sweet, musical sound that echoed through the house. He swayed his hips gently as he reached for the tea leaves, his heavy padding moving softly against his blouse. He was no longer a captive prize. He was exactly where he belonged, living the exact life he loved, protected by the woman who loved him more than anything in the world.