"What do you want for dowry?" She asked bluntly. The question hit him so hard that he nearly choked on his tea. He coughed, patted his chest and glared at her but she didn't even blink. There's no sympathy, no apology, just that calm, annoying composure. "Do I...Fuck!" He rasped, reaching for water then asked,"Do I look like that kind of person to you?" "Language, Mr. Rajput." She shot back, folding her arms. The sheer boldness of her tone almost made him laugh but he's enjoying it. "Logo ko dekh ke pata chal jata toh kya hi baat hoti, nahi? Who knows, you might torture me after marriage for not bringing any dowry?" She asked with a smirk. He stared at her for a moment then leaned in just to retort, "And what makes you think that even after getting dowry, you'll be safe?" Her throat went dry, but she didn't look away,"Exactly. In my opinion, shaadi is equal to barbaadi. So please, back out of this marriage and do both of us this favour." He smirked then slipped on his sunglasses,"I don't want anything from Mr. Rana... except his blunt-mouthed daughter. So yeah congratulations, soon-to-be Mrs. Rajput." He walked away, leaving her fuming and slightly breathless as she muttered,"Arrgh....arrogant idiot! " A soldier who hides his heart and a researcher turned assistant professor who denies hers, tied in a marriage that turns into the most sacred bond of all.