The Mafia Princess

Monday morning arrived with the usual groan. Your mother's voice, sharp yet familiar, cut through the haze of sleep. "Diya, get up or you will be late!" she shouted.

"I am up, Mum," you replied groggily, the thought of the office looming.

Another mundane week stretched ahead, filled with finance reports at Rohan Enterprises and the ever-present reality of your impending arranged marriage. It wasn't a bad life, just... predictable. You dressed, the weight of the next two months settling in your chest. Soon, you would be Mrs. Diya Malhotra, married to a man you barely knew. A part of you yearned for a different kind of beginning, one steeped in love, but you pushed the thought away. This was your path, chosen to honor your parents.

Downstairs, the aroma of breakfast filled the air. Your mother, ever the vigilant guardian of your health, insisted you eat before rushing out. You grumbled internally, but complied, joining your father and older brother at the dining table. Their amused glances at your mother's sternness were not lost on you.

The day at the office was typical until lunch. Your friends, Ritu and Priya, burst into your office, dragging you to a new diner. Over the meal, Ritu revealed her own struggles with her impending marriage, her future in-laws demanding she quit her job. Your conversation was interrupted by an announcement: a lucky draw for a free trip to London. You, never considering yourself lucky, scribbled your name on a slip anyway.

Later, back at your desk, a phone call pulled you away just as the winner was announced. Returning, you were met by your ecstatic friends, shouting that you had won. Disbelief washed over you as you were called to the stage and handed the envelope containing a ticket to London. You, Diya Mehra, were going to London.