Shattered Illusions

In the midst of a crucial conversation with a foreign investor, Aryan barged in, visibly agitated. "What's happening? They're insulting me, and you're doing nothing," he shouted.

I met his glare with a stern look. "Watch your tone, Aryan. Remember, I don't answer to you."

He acknowledged, "I know that."

"Then perhaps you're still recovering from a rough night?" I suggested pointedly.

"No, I'm perfectly sober," he insisted.

"Perhaps you should take some time to rest. We'll discuss this tomorrow," I proposed, trying to defuse the situation.

But he was adamant. "No, I want to talk about it now. Let the world know about us," he declared.

I attempted to calm him down. "Just relax. You're not thinking clearly."

I whispered urgently, "Don't mess this up, or there will be consequences."

Ignoring my warning, he took me onto the stage, professing his love in front of everyone. I recoiled, pulling away as he tried to slip a ring onto my finger.

"What are you doing? Stop this," I exclaimed.

He stood his ground, pleading, "Look at me and tell me you don't love me."

"Babe, this isn't a movie," I retorted.

Insisting on his delusion, he grasped my hands tightly, causing me pain. "You're lying. You do love me, right?"

"Let go, Aryan. You're hurting me," I demanded, struggling to break free.

Refusing to accept reality, he tightened his grip. "Say it. Say you love me."

Frustrated, I pushed him away and slapped him, the sound echoing in the room. "Enough! I don't love you, and I never will. Do you understand?"

He crumbled, tears streaming down his face. I placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering, "I warned you. I'm sorry."