!!Story Time!!
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The sky over Lake Como shimmered like liquid silver as the boat rocked gently near the dock. Justin stood at the edge, hands in his pockets, staring into the ripples. A breeze tousled his hair, but the storm behind his eyes hadn't quieted in days.
He was thinking again—about the past year. About the fights. The nightmares. The silence Radhika sometimes slipped into.
He didn't hear the footsteps behind him.
"Justin," came a voice—sharp, authoritative.
He turned—and froze.
Radhika stood at the deck, in combat boots and a black trench coat. And in her hands?
A gun.
Justin raised a brow. "Is that… real?"
"Oh, it's real," she replied, cocking the trigger playfully. "And so is my frustration. You've been avoiding this conversation for too long."
"What conversation?" he asked, both amused and genuinely confused.
She stepped closer, her eyes fierce and full of love. "The one where I ask you to marry me."
He blinked. "With a gun?"
She grinned. "You made me wait this long. You don't get the soft version."
Justin laughed, the sound echoing off the lake. "So this is your grand proposal? Armed and dangerous?"
She nodded, eyes gleaming. "You going to say yes, or am I pulling the emotional trigger?"
He closed the space between them, slowly taking the gun from her hand and setting it aside. "You had me at hello, but this—this is so you, Radhika."
She whispered, "Is that a yes?"
Justin leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "It's a yes, a forever, a till-death-do-us-part—even if you're the one holding the weapon."
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### **Chapter 44: The White Wedding**
It was the kind of day poems are written about.
In a restored 18th-century chapel by the lake, white roses spilled over pews and pillars. A string quartet played softly as guests took their seats, faces glowing with joy and relief. After everything—wars, betrayals, losses—they were finally getting their fairytale.
Radhika stood behind the large wooden doors, dressed in a simple yet breathtaking white satin gown with lace sleeves. Her hair fell in waves, crowned with delicate pearl pins. Her heart thudded in her chest—not from nerves, but from the weight of everything that had led to this moment.
"I look okay?" she whispered to Ishika, who was adjusting her train.
Ishika smiled. "You look like every chapter I ever wanted to write."
The music shifted.
The doors opened.
Justin turned from the altar—and forgot how to breathe.
There she was.
The girl who had once driven him crazy with riddles, sarcasm, and a stubborn streak sharper than a blade. The woman who'd survived pain, loss, and war—now walking toward him like peace finally had a face.
As she reached him, Justin mouthed, "You sure you're not armed?"
Radhika smiled. "Only with love, Mr. Justin."
Their vows were quiet, almost whispered, yet loud enough to drown out the world.
"I used to be afraid of happy endings," Radhika said, voice trembling. "But with you… I realized they aren't endings. They're just the start of a new story."
Justin replied, "I never believed in fate. Then you walked into my life like a storm. And now, you're my calm. My forever."
They kissed as the sun dipped behind the lake, turning the water gold.
Applause thundered through the chapel as Sahil threw petals, and Dev dabbed his eyes pretending it was dust. Gulafsha, Akanksha, and Ishika whistled, their cheers echoing with joy.
---
That night, they danced under fairy lights with bare feet on the grass. Justin held her like she was something fragile, and Radhika whispered stories in his ear like secrets she'd only ever tell him.
It wasn't just a wedding.
It was a triumph.
Two people—scarred but unbroken—choosing love in a world that tried to tear them apart.
---
Radhika P.O.V
The room was warm.
Not from the fireplace burning near the corner. Not from the candles flickering across the walls, throwing soft shadows over rose petals and silk sheets.
But from him.
From Justin.
He stood near the window, shirt half unbuttoned, collarbone catching the soft gold of moonlight, and eyes—those eyes—locked with mine as if they were tracing every memory we'd ever made.
I should've felt nervous.
But I didn't.
I felt... *seen.*
He walked toward me slowly, carefully, like I was something sacred.
"Do you know how long I've waited to touch you like this?" he said, his voice low and steady. "Without fear. Without a clock ticking behind us."
I swallowed, my throat dry despite the glass of wine untouched beside me. "Then don't wait."
He reached out and gently cupped my cheek. The roughness of his thumb brushed over my skin, and I leaned into it—just a little—because my heart was already melting.
His forehead pressed to mine.
We weren't even kissing yet, and still, I felt stripped bare. Every inch of me open, vulnerable.
"Are you scared?" he whispered.
"No," I breathed. "Not of you."
He kissed me then. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just… like he had all the time in the world.
Like I was the only thing in the world.
And in that kiss—was every fight, every goodbye, every second we thought we wouldn't survive. We had been through war, and now, we were finally choosing peace—in each other.
His hands didn't fumble.
Mine didn't hesitate.
He laid me down on the bed, hovering above me with those damn eyes still locked to mine. I had never made so much eye contact in my life, and yet, I couldn't look away.
I didn't want to.
He slowly undressed me, never once breaking that gaze, as if asking permission with every movement. My body trembled—not from fear, but from trust. Because I wanted this.
With *him.*
When he finally entered me, I gasped—not just from the suddenness, but from how close we felt. How real.
My hands clung to his shoulders, and his lips brushed over my jaw, my throat, my chest.
It wasn't wild. It wasn't fast.
It was *honest.*
Our bodies moved slowly, matching our breaths. The silence wasn't heavy—it was full of meaning. Full of things we didn't need to say.
When I whispered his name, he looked down at me with a kind of awe that made my heart ache.
"Radhika," he whispered, like a vow. "You're mine now."
We reached that final crescendo together—quiet, breathless, almost trembling.
And afterward, he pulled me into his arms like I was his anchor. I buried my face in his chest, tears slipping down my cheek without warning.
"Why are you crying?" he asked softly.
"Because I didn't know love could feel like this," I whispered.
He kissed the top of my head. "Neither did I."
That night, we didn't sleep much.
Not because of desire.
But because we couldn't stop staring at each other.
Touching.
Memorizing.
Thanking whatever cruel, twisted world it was… that somehow still gave us this moment.
Together.
Alive.
In love.
---
Thank you.....