In the chaotic heart of Mumbai, where traffic honks sound like lullabies and chai stalls are more common than stars, lived Riya — a spirited, no-nonsense graphic designer with zero time for love and a solid allergy to Bollywood-style romance.
One fine Monday morning, after spilling coffee on her white shirt, missing her train, and being barked at by a suspiciously intelligent street dog, Riya found a flyer stuck to her scooter.
“Rent-a-Boyfriend – For Family Functions, Weddings & Jealous Exes
Handsome. Well-behaved. Can dance. Not clingy.
Call Prem: 99999-LOVE-U**”
She laughed so hard a passerby offered her water. It was a joke, surely. Right?
That Friday, disaster struck.
Her cousin’s engagement party was happening that weekend, and her entire extended family — particularly the aunt who thought arranged marriages were the solution to everything from unemployment to dandruff — was coming.
Worse, her ex, Sameer, was also going to be there. With his new fiancée.
Riya panicked.
And dialed the number.
Enter Prem.
Tall, charming, and disturbingly well-dressed. He showed up with a bouquet, a smile, and a file titled “Fake Relationship Guidelines – Version 7.0”.
“Don’t fall for me,” he warned with a wink.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, “You’re not that charming.”
But he was. Oh, he was.
At the party, Prem played his role so perfectly that even Riya's dad whispered, “Beta, finally you found someone who knows how to eat with a spoon.”
They danced. They laughed. He told her stories — ridiculous ones — like how he once pretended to be a marine biologist at a wedding and ended up giving a speech on tuna fish.
“Why tuna?” she asked, stifling a laugh.
“Because dolphin felt too political.”
Somewhere between pretending, pretending started feeling... real.
But just as Riya began wondering what would happen after the act ended, Prem handed her an envelope.
“Thank you for hiring Rent-a-Boyfriend. You were my favorite client.”
And he left.
Weeks passed. No calls. No texts.
Then one day, outside her office, a street dog barked. The same one from that Monday.
It held a flyer in its mouth.
“Rent-a-Girlfriend now available!
Special discounts for graphic designers with bad luck and good hearts.
Call Prem: 99999-LOVE-U”
She looked up.
There he was. Smiling. Holding two cups of chai.
“Thought I’d return the favor,” he said. “Want to fake a future together?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”
“But a lovable one,” he said.
And this time, she didn’t argue
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