!!Story Time!!
Sahil P.O.V
---
The warm sunlight filtering through the curtains stirred me from sleep. I opened my eyes to find Ishika still asleep beside me, looking breathtakingly beautiful in the soft glow of morning. Last night had been… wild, to say the least.
As I let my eyes roam the room, I noticed our clothes scattered carelessly across the floor—evidence of the night's passion. But then my gaze fell on the jacket hanging from the stand. And with it came the memory I had almost forgotten—when Ishika proposed to me, she had slipped a note into my jacket pocket. I never got around to reading it.
Carefully, trying not to wake her, I pulled the blanket off me and stood up. The air was still, the moment almost sacred. I stepped quietly across the room, reached into the jacket's pocket, and pulled out the folded piece of paper.
Opening it slowly, I began to read:
**"I'm sorry. Sorry for everything.
I know you've already forgiven me, but I still feel the weight of what I did—of not trusting you when it mattered the most. That wasn't a small mistake.
I probably don't deserve your forgiveness so soon. Maybe I deserve a little punishment for that.
But we'll think about that later… For now, please clean up the mess I made in anger.
I love you."**
That's what she had written.
If only I'd read this earlier. It's been two weeks now since the chaos she caused… and by this point, that mess is like spilled milk—too far gone to fix.
God, this girl—what do I even do with her? Some days, I want to wrap her in my arms and never let go. Other days, she drives me absolutely mad. But no matter what she does, no matter how much she infuriates me—I can't stop loving her. I don't know how.
And now, standing here like a fool, I find myself laughing… and almost crying at the same time. I glance back at her—still asleep, still mine—and I can't help but smile like an idiot.
---
Radhika P.O.V
---
I stepped out of the room, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and adjusting my kurti as I made my way toward the living room. I paused in the hallway when I heard loud laughter echoing through the space.
There, on the sofa, sat two people who, just days ago, could barely stand the sight of each other—my brother and Justin. Laughing. Talking like old friends over cups of chai.
I narrowed my eyes and studied them carefully. Anyone seeing them now would never believe that these two were once ready to tear each other apart. And now? Here they were, sipping tea, laughing like they'd grown up together.
The past week had been strange—like someone flipped the script on my entire life. It felt as if Justin belonged here more than I did.
My own family, who once fussed over every little thing I did, seemed to have shifted all their affection to him. My mother doted on him like he was her own child, sometimes even more than me. And my father? He and Justin were practically best friends now—sharing jokes, talking politics, teasing each other. It was surreal.
I stood quietly, watching them from the shadows. And then Justin caught my eye. His face lit up.
"Radhika! Finally awake?" he called out, waving me over with that familiar crooked smile.
My brother glanced back and smirked. "She sleeps like a log," he joked.
Justin patted the space between them on the sofa. "Come here, we were just talking about you. And—" he added, looking at me a little more seriously, "there's something I wanted to ask."
I hesitated for a second before walking over and sitting down between them.
Justin leaned closer, lowering his voice so my brother wouldn't hear too much. "I was thinking… maybe it's time you met my mom."
I blinked. "What?"
"In Italy," he continued gently. "She's been wanting to meet you ever since I told her about us. I want her to see the girl who completely turned my world upside down." He chuckled softly, his eyes locked on mine. "Plus, you could use a break from all this attention I'm getting here. Seems like I've hijacked your family."
My brother laughed from the other side. "You're not wrong. Even I'm starting to feel like the outsider now."
Justin grinned. "So, what do you say? A little escape? You, me, and Rome?"
I stared at him, a mix of shock and curiosity flooding my chest. Italy. His mother. Us.
I didn't know what to say yet—but my heart was already halfway packed.
---
Italy.
The word echoed in my mind long after Justin had said it, his voice still lingering in my ears like a soft melody. I sat there between the two of them—my brother and my boyfriend—watching them joke and laugh like lifelong friends, and yet I felt... invisible.
A few months ago, if someone had told me that my calm, emotionally unavailable brother would be sipping tea with Justin and arguing over cricket scores, I would have laughed in their face. But here we were—my family embracing Justin like he was the lost son they never had. And me? I felt like I was slowly becoming the guest in my own home.
It wasn't jealousy. Not really. It was something quieter. More complex. Like I had handed over a piece of my world to him, and somehow, without meaning to, he'd claimed all of it.
And now he wants me to meet his mother.
In *Italy*.
Across oceans and countries and time zones.
It should feel exciting, romantic even. The kind of thing girls daydream about—meeting the mother of the boy who looks at you like you're the only thing worth looking at.
But my heart wasn't racing with joy. It was racing with doubt.
*I know her mother like my books but What if she doesn't like me as her son's future wife? What if I'm not who she imagined for him? What if I embarrass myself, or worse, him?*
And deeper than that—*what if I don't belong there either, just like I don't belong here anymore?*
I glanced at Justin. He was busy teasing my brother, completely unaware of the storm inside me. His laugh was loud, carefree. His hand brushed mine absentmindedly, like it belonged there, always had.
And maybe that was my answer.
Because no matter how out of place I felt here or anywhere, with him—I always felt *seen*. Even when I was silent. Even when I was scared.
He turned toward me just then, eyes searching mine. "You okay?"
I nodded softly, then forced a little smile. "Just thinking."
He leaned in with that mischievous glint in his eye. "About Italy?"
I nodded again. "About… everything."
And in that moment, I didn't have all the answers. But I knew one thing—I wanted to say yes. Maybe not just to Italy, but to the next chapter, wherever it would take us.
---
After 2 days
Dev P.O.V
---
Honeymoon in Italy –
The streets of Florence shimmered beneath the soft, golden light of dusk. The sky, painted in hues of lavender and amber, stretched endlessly over narrow cobbled lanes, Renaissance architecture, and flower-laced balconies. Somewhere in the distance, a violin played—a street musician pouring his soul into the notes of a love song neither of us knew the name of, but both of us felt.
I glanced at Gulafsha.
She stood by the edge of the Arno River, the breeze playing with the ends of her scarf, her eyes wide with wonder. That same quiet awe she'd always carried—the kind that made the world feel new when you looked at it through her gaze. Italy was beautiful, yes—but right now, nothing could compete with her.
She turned to me, catching me staring, and smiled. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you look at me like I'm a painting in a museum and you're trying to figure out whether I'm real."
I walked closer, slipping my arm around her waist, pulling her just slightly toward me. "You are a painting. But I'm not trying to figure out if you're real. I already know you are. I'm just wondering how I got lucky enough to call you mine."
She let out a quiet laugh and leaned her head on my shoulder. "You're getting better at this honeymoon-sweetheart thing."
"I'm a fast learner," I whispered, kissing the top of her head.
That day had been long but magical—sun-drenched vineyards in Tuscany, a private tour through a quiet countryside villa, and too many glasses of Chianti that had left her cheeks flushed and her laughter bubbling like music.
Now, as we strolled along the river, hand in hand, it felt like the world had finally slowed down. No chaos. No kidnappings. No hidden masterminds. Just *us*.
"Dev," she said after a while, stopping beside a stone bridge.
"Hmm?"
"If we just disappeared here… like ran away and never came back, would you miss it? Our world back home?"
I paused, letting her words settle. "I'd miss some people… but no place ever felt like home until I was with you. So no, I wouldn't miss it."
Her eyes softened, and for a second, she didn't say anything. Just reached up and kissed me—slow and sure, like we had all the time in the world.
And maybe we did.
As the last light of day disappeared into the horizon, I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, and together we walked into the dim, golden streets of Florence—two lovers, lost in a foreign city, but found completely in each other.
---
**Tuscany, Italy — Golden Evening**
The sun dipped lazily behind the Tuscan hills, casting the world in a soft golden glow. Everything looked like a painting—vineyards rolling over the land like green waves, birds coasting through the warm breeze, and the stone villa where Dev and Gulafsha were spending their honeymoon, perched like a secret whisper between nature and time.
Inside, the air smelled of wine and roses. Gulafsha stood barefoot on the balcony in a flowing ivory dress, her hair catching the light like fire in motion. Dev leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes fixed only on her.
"You keep looking at me like I'm a dream," she said without turning, her voice laced with a teasing softness.
"That's because you are," he replied simply.
She turned, smiled, and walked back inside, resting her forehead gently against his chest. "Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"That we'll never let the world in. Not here. Not between us."
Dev brushed his lips against her forehead. "Here, there is no world. Just us."
But even the most perfect silences are not immune to being broken.
Suddenly, the distant screech of tires shattered the calm like glass cracking under pressure. Dev stiffened. Gulafsha pulled away, eyes narrowing. No one was supposed to be here. No one even knew where they were.
They stepped out together onto the villa's stone steps just as a sleek black car came to a stop in the gravel path, dust swirling like smoke. The doors swung open.
Out stepped **Justin**—wearing dark glasses, a long coat, and that familiar air of effortless trouble.
And behind him—**Radhika**. Arms folded. Eyes tired. Clearly not thrilled to be here.
Gulafsha's mouth parted in pure disbelief. "What the hell…?"
Justin removed his sunglasses slowly, his expression unreadable. "Nice to see you too."
Dev stepped forward, tension already tightening in his jaw. "Justin. What are you doing here?"
Radhika didn't wait for an invitation. "We didn't come for wine and sunsets, if that's what you're wondering."
Justin slipped his phone from his coat pocket, unlocked it, and turned the screen toward Dev. One word flashed on the display.
**"Active."**
Dev's eyes darkened. "No. Not here. Not now."
"I didn't choose the timing," Justin said coolly. "He did."
Gulafsha glanced between them. "Who is *he*?"
Justin's voice lowered. "The one we thought we'd already buried. The one sending messages again."
Radhika sighed and looked at Gulafsha. "Sorry to crash the honeymoon, but it turns out love isn't the only thing that follows you across borders."
For a moment, no one spoke.
The wind picked up. The light faded just a little. And the honeymoon?
It was officially over.
---
It was supposed to be our escape.
A quiet honeymoon tucked away in the arms of Tuscany. Just me and Gulafsha. No chaos. No shadows. No secrets. But standing at the foot of our villa, watching Justin close the car door with that familiar gravity in his eyes, I knew—this wasn't just a visit.
He had brought a storm with him.
And Radhika? She looked just as frustrated to be here as I was to see them.
Before I could say anything, Gulafsha's hand found mine. Her grip was tight, silent. We didn't need words to feel the same thing—that flicker of dread sneaking into a perfect moment.
"What do you mean... he's active?" I asked, my voice low.
Justin handed me the phone. On the screen was a message from an unknown source:
**"I told you I wasn't finished. Italy is just another board for the game."**
And below that, a photo.
Blurry. Snapped from afar.
Of me and Gulafsha on the balcony.
My throat tightened.
"He knows where we are?" Gulafsha whispered.
Justin nodded grimly. "He doesn't just know. He's watching."
Before the weight of that could settle, the sound of another vehicle approached—quiet, hesitant, as if unsure whether to intrude.
We turned just as a taxi rolled to a stop beside Justin's car. The doors opened.
And there they were—**Sahil and Ishika.**
I should've been relieved. I should've smiled, maybe even laughed. But all I felt was a tightening in my chest.
"What the hell is this?" I muttered.
Sahil was the first to step forward, tossing his bag into the gravel like he'd been dragged into a battle without a sword. "Don't look at me, bro. I was halfway through my vacation with this one—" he jerked a thumb toward Ishika—"when she said we had to be here."
Ishika didn't flinch. "Because the game isn't over. And I wasn't going to let you all face this alone."
Radhika snorted. "Wow. So now we're calling it *'the game.'* Like it's a board game instead of real lives."
Justin gave her a look. "It's always been a game. Just with higher stakes."
Sahil looked at me, then Justin. "So... what now?"
I took a deep breath. My fingers still wrapped around Gulafsha's. She hadn't said a word, but her silence said enough. Fear. Confusion. Betrayal—of peace we thought we'd earned.
I looked around—at the people who weren't supposed to be here, and the threat that followed them across oceans.
And I realized something.
This wasn't our honeymoon anymore.
It was our battlefield.
"Now," I said quietly, "we stop pretending we're safe."
---
Thank you.....