The showroom of Vardhman & Sons was a monument to extravagance.

Polished marble floors.
Security guards with discreet earpieces.
Display cases radiating enough gold to reflect sunlight into orbit.

Their mothers were occupied at the central counter, admiring elaborate necklaces and debating karat weights, leaving Navya and Aarav exiled to a side display to “choose their rings.”

Navya leaned casually against the glass case.

“This,” she murmured, “is the ideal environment for a stress test.”

Aarav studied a simple platinum band like it was malicious code embedded in clean architecture.

“The objective is operational disaster,” he replied. “Initiate simulation.”

When the salesperson—a courteous man named Mr. Khanna—approached carrying a velvet tray of diamond solitaires, Navya flipped the switch.

“I don’t like these,” she said, projecting her voice deliberately. “They look… generic. Do you have anything that wasn’t sourced by an algorithm scraping mediocrity?”

Mr. Khanna blinked. “Ma’am, these are VVS1 clarity—”

“And I,” Aarav interjected smoothly, “refuse to wear any ring without full blockchain-verified ethical sourcing. I’d like digital certificates of origin for every stone here. Immediately.”

The salesman faltered.

While he retreated to fetch a manager, Navya slipped a small black device from her pocket—a Flipper Zero—and discreetly slid it beneath the velvet-lined counter.

Aarav noticed instantly.

“What are you doing?” he muttered.

“Disrupting their inventory tablets,” she replied, eyes fixed on the tiny screen. “If every ring registers as ‘Out of Stock’ or ‘Security Compromised,’ no purchase can proceed. Transaction failure. Exit achieved.”

Aarav leaned closer, analyzing the signal traffic.

“Your handshake protocol is inefficient,” he whispered. “You’re attempting a brute-force on WPA2. That’s noisy. Clone the manager’s NFC badge when he passes. It’s likely unencrypted.”

“I don’t require your intervention,” Navya snapped.

“You do if you want to avoid triggering a storewide alert.”

Without waiting for permission, Aarav reached over. His hand brushed hers as he adjusted the device.

The contact lasted barely a second—sharp and electric, like static discharge.

Both withdrew immediately.

Aarav’s fingers moved precisely over the controls.

“There. I’ve injected a conditional flag. Any ring scanned from this counter will display as a ‘Security Risk.’”

Right on cue, Mr. Khanna returned with the store manager.

Navya pointed decisively to an extravagant five-carat diamond.

“That one.”

The manager scanned it.

His tablet screen flashed crimson.

“Oh… that’s unusual. It indicates a critical structural flaw detected by laser scan. That shouldn’t be possible.”

Navya tilted her head innocently.

“And this one?”

Another scan.

Another red alert.

“Internal asset discrepancy,” the manager muttered, visibly unsettled.

Their mothers finally looked over.

“Is everything alright?” Navya’s mother asked.

Navya inhaled dramatically.

“No, Mom. It’s a sign. Even the jewelry system is rejecting this alliance. Aarav’s negativity is corrupting their database.”

“My negativity?” Aarav replied coolly. “Your chaotic frequency is destabilizing their wireless infrastructure. We are incompatible at a molecular level.”

They exited in opposite directions, leaving behind two confused mothers and a visibly distressed management team.

Outside, behind a marble pillar, Navya checked the Flipper Zero.

“We just froze their premium inventory pipeline for at least three hours,” she said, a controlled smirk forming.

“And successfully projected maximum immaturity,” Aarav added, though there was unmistakable approval in his tone.

Navya raised an eyebrow.

“Impressed, Malhotra?”

“Temporarily,” he replied. “Phase one executed. Ninety percent hate. One hundred percent system instability.”

The alliance was holding.

For now.

Wedding countdown: 17 days.