The Rajput Haveli had never been louder.

Voices overlapped in the corridors, bangles clinked with hurried movements, and the air carried the mixed fragrance of incense, fresh jasmine, and strong morning tea. Servants moved swiftly from room to room, trays in hand. Somewhere, a cupboard door slammed shut. Somewhere else, someone called out for safety pins.

It was chaos. Royal chaos.

The kind that only erupted when a Rajput family prepared to step into another powerful household-not as guests, but as equals.

Meera stood near the courtyard, directing everyone with quiet urgency.
"Make sure the gifts are wrapped properly."
"Has the sweets box been checked?"
"Someone tell Vikram to hurry."

Men adjusted their safaas, women fixed their dupattas, and the elders sat with calm authority, observing it all like seasoned generals before a battle that was already half-won.

And then there was Kiara.

She stood at the far end of the corridor, arms crossed, leaning against a carved pillar-watching the madness with narrowed eyes.

"So let me get this straight," she said flatly, looking at Riya. "Everyone is going to the Romano house. Everyone."

Riya nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes."

"And I'm staying back."

"Yes."

Kiara let out a slow breath, then rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't get stuck.

"Fantastic," she muttered. "I'm the product being discussed, but apparently I don't get to attend the meeting."

Riya bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
"It's family tradition," she reminded her. "Bride and groom are not allowed to meet before the marriage is fixed."

Kiara straightened, her voice sharp but controlled.
"We've already met."

"That doesn't count," Riya said quickly. "That was... unofficial."

"Unofficial?" Kiara repeated. "So my life decisions are official, but my presence is optional?"

Riya burst out laughing despite herself.

From the doorway, Kavya overheard and joined in, adjusting her dupatta.
"Welcome to Rajput traditions, my dear. Logic checks out at the gate."

Kiara sighed, pushing her hair back.
"I just met the man once. Once. And now suddenly I'm too dangerous to be seen again?"

"It's not that," Meera said gently, approaching her. "It's just how things are done."

Kiara looked at her mother, searching her face.
"And what if I wanted to go?"

Meera's expression softened-but the answer remained unchanged. "Then there would be a war in this house before noon."

Kiara huffed. "Tempting."

Meera smiled faintly, cupping her daughter's face.
"This meeting is about families now. Not individuals."

Kiara nodded slowly, understanding more than she liked.

Across the courtyard, Elder Mr. and Mrs. Rajput prepared to leave-composed, dignified, certain. The decision, in their eyes, was already taking shape.

Kiara watched from a distance as her future walked toward a house she was forbidden to step into. Being decided without her. Again. She exhaled, forcing herself to stay calm.

This is not weakness, she reminded herself. This is patience.

As the convoy of cars began to line up outside the haveli, Kiara stood at the balcony, sunlight touching her face, her expression unreadable. Somewhere across the city, another household was waiting.

__

The Romano mansion had slipped into a controlled frenzy.

Staff moved briskly across marble floors, floral arrangements were being adjusted for the third time, and the scent of fresh lilies mixed with the sharp aroma of Italian coffee drifting from the kitchen. Curtains were drawn back to let sunlight flood the living hall, and silver trays were lined up with precision that bordered on obsession.

Mrs. Aravi Romano stood at the center of it all-calm, composed, and in complete command.

"Make sure the seating is symmetrical," she instructed gently.
"And tell the kitchen head they'll be here any moment."

Her sister-in-law, isabella however, stood near the staircase, arms crossed, lips pursed in perpetual dissatisfaction. She was Italian by blood, sharp by nature, and incapable of missing a chance to provoke.

"So," she said pointedly, "your son's wedding is being discussed and you didn't think to inform me earlier?"

Aravi smiled, unbothered. "It all happened quickly."

"Quickly?" the woman scoffed. "And the bride's family comes here, but the girl herself stays behind? Strange traditions you Indians have."

Aravi's smile never wavered.
"Different cultures have different ways. We respect them."

"And they didn't even bring the girl along," the woman added dryly. "How are we supposed to judge her?"

"With time," Aravi replied calmly. "Good things don't need haste."

Isabela huffed but said nothing further.

Aravi clapped her hands softly.
"Everyone, please be ready. The Rajput family will arrive any moment."

She turned, glancing at the clock-and then frowned.

"Where is Donato?" she muttered. "For heaven's sake, his wedding talks are about to be finalized and he's still buried in work."

She pulled out her phone and dialed.

Before the call connected, the front gate opened.

A familiar, commanding presence crossed the threshold.

"Here, madre," Donato said smoothly as he walked in. "No need to panic. I'm here."

Aravi's relief was immediate.

"Thank God," she said, placing a hand over her heart. "Now that you're here, go get ready. They've already left their house. They could arrive any minute."

From the kitchen, a voice echoed loudly.

"Donato!" Isabella, his aunt, called out teasingly. "Wear something Rajasthani today!"

Donato stopped mid-step and rolled his eyes.
"For God's sake, Aunt. They're coming to talk-not to get me married today. I'm not wearing Rajasthani attire."

Aravi laughed softly. "Fine. Just wear something casual. And not that black mafia suit of yours," she added pointedly. "This is a wedding discussion, not a contract negotiation."

"Whatever," Donato muttered, glancing at his phone.

Then, something crossed his mind.

He looked up at his mother. "Madre... is everyone from the Rajput family coming?"

"Yes," Aravi replied.

"And... her?" he asked, eyes glinting with quiet curiosity.

Aravi raised an eyebrow. "Her who?"

Donato sighed. "Kiara. Is she coming?"

"No," Aravi answered simply.

His expression shifted instantly.
"What? But why? It's her marriage being discussed. She should be present when they decide the wedding."

"I know, beta," Aravi said gently. "But it's their tradition. Bride and groom aren't allowed to meet before the wedding is fixed."

"That's ridiculous," Donato snapped, frustration slipping through. "What's the point of not meeting when they're going to marry anyway? It would be better if we met again-got to know each other more."

Aravi shook her head calmly.
"We can't interfere. It's their family rule. We shouldn't create discomfort before things are finalized."

Donato exhaled sharply, then nodded once.
"No," he admitted. "You're right."

"Then let things flow as they are," Aravi said softly.

He nodded again.

"Now go," she urged. "Get ready."

"What's the point?" he muttered. "If she's not here, what am I even doing in that meeting?"

Aravi stepped closer, her tone firm but affectionate.
"That's not how it works, Donato. From our side, only you will be present. Your father would have come, but he has an important meeting. He said to finalize everything and he'll come soon with the entire family."

She met his gaze. "If you're not there, it will seem like you didn't want to meet them. That would be rude."

"Okay," he said finally, surrendering. He turned and walked toward his room to get ready.

Donato's room was quiet-too quiet compared to the chaos outside.

The moment he closed the door behind him, the muffled sounds of voices, footsteps, and clinking trays faded into a distant hum. Sunlight slipped in through the tall glass windows, casting long shadows over the minimalist space-dark wood furniture, neatly stacked files on one side, and a wardrobe that looked more like it belonged to a businessman than a groom-to-be.

Donato loosened his tie and tossed his phone onto the bed.

For a few seconds, he simply stood there.

This was supposed to be a routine meeting. A formal discussion. Another responsibility checked off his long list of duties.

So why did his chest feel heavy?

He walked toward the mirror, unbuttoning his black shirt slowly. His reflection stared back at him-calm face, controlled expression, eyes that had seen too much too early in life. A man who never hesitated, never doubted.

Except today.

Kiara.

Her name surfaced in his mind without permission.

The way she spoke-measured, logical, yet soft. Not trying to impress. Not trying to please. Just honest. Grounded. Different from the women who usually surrounded him.

"She should be there," he muttered under his breath, fingers pausing at the cufflink. "It's her life."

He exhaled sharply and turned away from the mirror, opening his wardrobe. His hand hovered briefly over a row of dark suits before he stopped himself.

Not the black one, his mother's voice echoed in his head.

With a faint, reluctant smile, he reached for a neutral-colored shirt-simple, elegant. No power play. No intimidation. Just... human.

As he dressed, his thoughts drifted again.

Bride and groom shouldn't meet before marriage.

He scoffed internally. Meaningless rules, he thought. Built to silence the one person who should matter the most in these decisions.

He buttoned the shirt fully, smoothing the fabric as if grounding himself.

Is she really ready? Or did she say yes because she was never asked if no was an option?

The question unsettled him more than he expected.

Donato picked up his watch, fastening it around his wrist with practiced ease-but his mind wasn't present. Somewhere far away, in a haveli in Rajasthan, a girl sat excluded from decisions about her own future.

And that didn't sit right with him. A knock sounded at the door.

"Donato?" Aravi's voice came gently. "They'll be here soon."

"I'm coming," he replied, voice steady again.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror-not adjusting his clothes this time, but his expression. The softness vanished, replaced by composure, restraint, and responsibility.

Whatever his doubts, he knew one thing clearly: This marriage would not be decided about Kiara without him at least trying to understand her. He picked up his phone, slipped it into his pocket, and opened the door.
__

The late afternoon sun softened the stone façade, casting a warm glow over the courtyard where staff members stood alert, lined with practiced precision. The moment the engines stopped, movement rippled through the space-doors opened, footsteps followed, and the air shifted with the arrival of guests who carried both tradition and authority in their presence.

Aravi stepped forward first.

Her smile was warm, composed, and unmistakably sincere as she greeted the Rajput elders. Respect met respect-folded hands, gentle nods, soft words exchanged with careful courtesy. The atmosphere was formal, yet not cold. There was dignity on both sides, the unspoken understanding that this meeting carried weight beyond pleasantries.

Behind her, Isabella and the household staff moved efficiently, guiding the guests inside. Tea trays were offered, welcoming gestures extended, and the Rajput women were led toward the seating area prepared especially for them.

Then Donato stepped forward.

He wasn't in a suit this time-no sharp edges, no corporate armor. His attire was simple, refined, chosen deliberately to blend rather than dominate. His posture was straight, his expression calm, and his smile-controlled, respectful, unforced.

"Welcome," he said, his voice steady as he greeted the elders one by one.

He bent slightly, a subtle gesture of respect that did not go unnoticed. Elder Mr. Rajput studied him closely, the way men do when measuring not wealth, but character. Donato met his gaze without arrogance, without submission-only quiet confidence.

Arav stood a little behind his family, observing everything. His eyes lingered on Donato, noting the ease with which he navigated the room, the restraint in his movements, the way he listened more than he spoke.

This man knows when to lead-and when to step back, Arav thought.

As everyone settled into their seats, Donato took his place beside Aravi, attentive but not intrusive. He listened as the elders spoke, responding only when addressed, his words thoughtful and precise.

The room carried a gentle hum-tea cups being set down, soft fabric brushing against marble floors, measured conversations flowing between families who were learning the shape of one another.

Yet beneath the politeness, something deeper moved. This was not merely a meeting of two families.

It was the quiet crossing of two lives toward a shared future-one bride absent by tradition, and one groom present by responsibility.

Donato's gaze drifted briefly toward the entrance, almost unconsciously, before he refocused on the conversation.

He smiled again-calm, composed. But his mind was already aware of the silence left behind by the one person who should have been there.

After the initial warmth of casual conversation-discussions about family roots, work, culture, and the subtle differences between Italian and Rajasthani traditions-the room slowly shifted into a quieter, more serious rhythm. The tea cups rested back on their saucers, and the air carried the unspoken awareness that the real purpose of this meeting was about to surface.

Elder Mrs. Rajput was the first to speak.

Her voice was calm, measured, carrying the authority of someone whose words shaped destinies. "So," she said gently, folding her hands in her lap, "from our side, the answer is yes. Kiara has agreed. She is ready for this marriage."

Her gaze moved toward Aravi with soft expectation. "Aravi beta... what is Donato's decision?"

For a moment, Aravi's expression brightened with genuine relief. "That is wonderful news," she replied warmly. "From our side as well, the answer is yes. Donato has no objection at all." She smiled, her voice steady but full of happiness. "This is truly a joyful matter for us."

A quiet murmur of approval passed through the Rajput family.

Elder Mr. Rajput nodded appreciatively before asking, almost casually,
"Aravi beta, your husband and your in-laws-did they not come today?"

Aravi inclined her head slightly, her tone respectful. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rajput. My husband was supposed to come, but some urgent matters came up at the last moment. However, my family will be here very soon-very soon, the entire Romano family."

The Rajputs exchanged knowing glances.
"Hm," Elder Mr. Rajput said with a light chuckle, "handling such a vast empire is no small thing. Of course, the Romano family must stay busy."

Aravi laughed softly. "It's not like that," she replied gently. "Work is always there, but for us, family comes first."

That simple statement earned her a nod of approval. "I'm glad to hear that," Elder Mrs. Rajput said with satisfaction. "It brings me peace to know my daughter is going into a family where family is valued."

Donato remained silent, his posture composed, his expression respectful. Yet inwardly, a quiet thought crossed his mind-sharp, restrained, unspoken.

If family truly mattered this much, he thought, then her life's decision would not have been taken in her absence.

But he did not voice it. He understood-every family had its own rules, its own truths, its own contradictions.

The conversation flowed on-light, polite exchanges about customs, festivals, future plans, and the blending of two cultures. Laughter surfaced now and then, easing the formality.

Then Aravi sighed softly, signaling a shift.

"Mr. and Mrs. Rajput," she began carefully, "I know the Rajput family is deeply traditional. Every festival, every function is celebrated with grandeur and heart, in true Rajasthani style."

She paused before continuing, choosing her words with care. "But I would like this wedding to be simple... peaceful. Only family and a few close relatives present."

The Rajput family looked at her, surprised but attentive.

Elder Mrs. Rajput spoke first. "Why so, Aravi beta?" she asked gently. "Both our families are more than capable of celebrating our children's wedding with great pride and splendor. Then why keep it quiet?"

Aravi nodded, acknowledging the question.
"I understand, Mrs. Rajput. There is no doubt about our capability."

Her voice softened. "But you know... where there are friends, there are also enemies. The Romano family is vast, spread across many places. This will be the first time the entire family comes to India together. If too many people know, unnecessary attention may follow-attention that could harm business, peace, or worse."

She stopped short of the deeper truth-the shadows she chose not to bring into this sacred conversation.

Donato listened intently, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Her words were careful, but he knew what lay beneath them. Rivals. Threats. A stalker whose obsession had already crossed dangerous lines. India was neutral ground for him-not protected by the invisible shield he carried elsewhere. And Kiara... Kiara was vulnerable.

If silence can keep her safe, he thought, then silence is worth everything.

Elder Mr. Rajput nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "You are right, Aravi beta. I understand your situation."

He glanced around at his family before concluding, "The wedding will be exactly as you wish. We have no objection."

Relief passed quietly through the room.

The final details were then discussed-dates, rituals, logistics. Donato's limited time in India became a deciding factor. He would have to return to Italy by the end of the month; staying longer was not an option.

After brief consideration, the decision was made.

The wedding would take place the following weekend-20th February.

Smiles bloomed across faces. Congratulations were exchanged, hands folded in gratitude, blessings offered with sincerity. The atmosphere turned warm and celebratory, filled with quiet joy rather than loud triumph.

Two families had agreed. Two lives had been bound by decision.

And beneath the calm surface of smiles and traditions, Donato silently vowed-
No matter the cost, she will be safe.

__

Night settled gently over the Rajput haveli, wrapping its old stone walls in a calm, amber hush. The dinner table was still warm with conversation-steel plates pushed aside, glasses half-filled, and the soft clink of bangles echoing between sentences.

Everyone was talking about the Romano family.

"They are very dignified," Elder Mr. Rajput said thoughtfully. "Not flashy, not loud. There's grace in the way they carry themselves."

"Yes," Meera agreed, nodding. "Mrs. Aravi is extremely composed. You can tell she has seen the world, yet she respects our traditions."

"I noticed Donato," Arav added, leaning back slightly. "He doesn't talk much, but when he does, it's to the point. Very attentive. He listens more than he speaks."

"He has a strong presence," Ishaani said softly. "Not intimidating-but firm. Like someone who knows responsibility from a young age."

"He's handsome too," Suman teased lightly, earning a few chuckles.

Throughout all of it, Kiara sat quietly in her place, eating slowly, her eyes lowered to her plate. She didn't add anything to the discussion, didn't defend, didn't praise. She simply listened-absorbing every word, every observation-her expression unreadable.

After dinner, everyone retired early. From tomorrow, chaos would begin. Even if the wedding was meant to be simple, there were still countless preparations-shopping, decorations, catering, rituals. Simplicity didn't mean effortlessness.

Kiara returned to her room.

She sat at her small table by the window, a book open in her hands, reading under the warm yellow lamp. On the bed, Riya lay sprawled comfortably, scrolling through her phone. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Too quiet.

Kiara glanced at her once. Then again. And again.

Riya's expression hadn't changed-not once. Her brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration, thumb moving rapidly across the screen like a detective chasing a lead.

Kiara finally closed her book with a soft thud and sighed.
"Riya," she said calmly, "tell me the truth. Who is he?"

Riya blinked and looked up, confused.
"Who?" she asked, still holding her phone.

"The one you're talking to," Kiara replied dryly.

"I'm not talking to anyone," Riya said, sitting up.

Kiara raised an eyebrow. "Then what have you been doing for fifteen minutes-so focused you didn't even look around once? Who are you talking to? Is he from your school? Handsome? Same class?" The questions spilled out one after another.

Riya burst into laughter. "Relax, di. There's no he. I'm not talking to anyone. I'm just searching for someone's ID on Instagram. And yes-handsome. Actually, very handsome."

"Whose ID?" Kiara asked, moving closer.

Riya didn't answer-just turned the screen slightly.

Kiara leaned in, her eyes falling on the search bar. The name typed there made her freeze.

Donato Romano.

Her eyes widened. She snatched the phone instantly.
"Why are you searching Mr. Romano?" she asked sharply, eyebrow raised.

Riya grinned. "So that we can stalk him."

"Riya!" Kiara scolded.

"Okay, okay-not stalk," Riya laughed. "I'm just finding his ID so you can talk to him."

"Why?" Kiara asked, genuinely baffled.

"Because my very smart sister forgot to take her soon-to-be husband's number on her first date," Riya teased.

Kiara groaned. "Oh shut up. It wasn't a date-it was just a casual meeting. And I didn't forget. I didn't ask on purpose. He didn't ask either, so I let it go."

"Well, now we'll find his ID and you'll message him," Riya declared.

Kiara's eyes widened in horror. "What? No! Riya, that's not good. What will he think? That I searched for his ID and messaged him like some-"

"Dii," Riya interrupted calmly, "he's not like our typical family men. He's Italian. Very open-minded. And besides..."

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. " I Did notice today He kept looking toward the gate. Again and again. Like he was waiting for someone. Even when we entered, he looked at everyone carefully... then the gate again. Somewhere, he was expecting you to be there."

"Shut up," Kiara said quickly, turning her face away. "You overthink too much."

Then, softer, almost to herself, she added, "But yes... he is open-minded. The way he asked about my choice... that says a lot."

Riya smirked. "See? Let me find his ID."

After what felt like an eternity, the profile finally appeared.

Verified.
A star tag.
Millions of followers.
Zero following.

Riya gasped. "Oh my God, di! He has more followers than some celebrities!"

"Riya, stop," Kiara warned.

But Riya had already grabbed Kiara's phone.
"Let's send him a request-from your ID."

Before Kiara could protest, the request was sent.

They waited.

Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen minutes.

Nothing.

Just then, suman called Riya from outside.
"Riya, it's late. You have college tomorrow."

Riya pouted but obeyed, throwing Kiara a mischievous look before leaving.
"Don't worry, di. He'll accept."

Kiara locked the door and sat on her bed, phone in hand, heart oddly restless.

Miles away, Donato sat in his room, laptop open, working quietly. His phone chimed.

He was about to ignore it-until the name caught his eye.

Kiara Rajput has requested to follow you.

He froze.

Without thinking, he pushed his laptop aside and picked up his phone. His thumb hovered over Accept-then stopped.

"No," he muttered to himself. "I can't expect her from this account." His official account followed no one. Accepting her request would raise questions. Worse-he couldn't even message her from this ID. It was managed by his team for business purposes.

He exhaled slowly, thinking. Then an idea struck. Minutes later, a new account existed.

With DR username.

No photos.
No followers.
Just one request sent-to Kiara.

He waited.
__

Kiara's phone chimed. A message request.

She ignored it at first, eyes still fixed on Donato's profile. But something about the sender name tugged at her. She opened it.

Her breath caught.

DR:
Hey Kiara. It's me-Donato Romano.
Sorry, I can't accept you from my official ID.

Kiara stared at the screen for a second, then smiled.

Kiara:
Hi.

DR:
So... you finally found me.

Kiara:
I didn't. My sister did. She thinks it's her duty to manage my life now.

DR:
Ah, sisters. Dangerous creatures 😌
But I'm glad she did. i thought you didn't want to talk , you didn't even give your number that day.

Kiara paused, her fingers hovering.

Kiara:
It wasn't that. I just thought... maybe some things don't need to be rushed.
And i din't give my number because you didn't asked."

DR:
I agree.
But talking doesn't always mean rushing. Sometimes it just means understanding.

Kiara:
Then I suppose... this is fine.

On the other side of the screen, Donato leaned back, a soft smile forming.

DR:
Good. Because I'd like to know you better, Kiara Rajput.

Kiara:
That sounds... fair.

DR:
You're very calm for someone whose wedding talks just got fixed.

Kiara:
Maybe because I've had a lot of practice staying calm.

DR:
Or maybe because you're braver than you think.

Kiara:
Hmm.

Donato stared at that single word longer than he should have.

DR:
Can I ask you something honestly?

Kiara:
You already are.

DR:
Are you really ready for this marriage?
Or are they forcing you?

Kiara's reply came after a brief pause, but when it came, it was firm.

Kiara:
Mr. Romano, no one is forcing me. I accept this marriage on my own will.

Donato exhaled slowly.

DR:
So you're willingly ready... to marry me?

Her fingers moved without hesitation this time.

Kiara:
Yes.

The word was simple. But to Donato, it carried weight-clarity, courage, choice.

DR:
Then I guess I should say... thank you for trusting me.

Kiara:
Trust comes slowly for me.
But honesty helps.

DR:
I'll take that as a good start.

Kiara:
You're surprisingly easy to talk to, you know.

DR:
That's a compliment, right?

Kiara:
Don't get used to it.

DR:
Too late. I already am.

Kiara shook her head, smiling at the screen.

Kiara:
So tell me something.
Are you always this serious?

DR:
Only when it matters.
Otherwise, I'm worse than you think.

Kiara:
That sounds... dangerous.

DR:
Only for people who underestimate me.

Kiara:
Noted. I won't.

DR:
Good.
What were you doing before your sister kidnapped your phone?

Kiara:
Reading. It helps me escape when the house gets too loud.

DR:
I like that.
Silence, books, and a little chaos on the side.

Kiara:
That sounds oddly specific.

DR:
Maybe I'm learning you faster than I should.

Kiara:
Or maybe we're just talking.

DR:
Fair enough.
What do you like, Kiara? Not what your family expects-you.

She thought for a moment.

Kiara:
Peace.
Late nights.
And people who don't tell me what I should be.

DR:
Then we might get along just fine.

Kiara:
Hmm. "Maybe"

DR:
You say "hmm" a lot.

Kiara:
Because it keeps things open-ended.

DR:
I'll remember that.

There was a brief pause. Then his next message appeared.

DR:
I'm glad we're talking like this.

Kiara:
Me too.
It feels... normal.

DR:
Normal is underrated.

Kiara:
Especially in families like ours.

DR:
Exactly.

Kiaraplaced her phone on the pillow, her smile softer now, more real.

DR:
So... should I be scared of you, Kiara Rajput?

Kiara:
Why would you be?

DR:
You seem calm.
People like that usually surprise you the most.

Kiara:
Or maybe I'm just tired of dramatic people.

DR:
Ouch.
Am I dramatic?

Kiara:
A little.

DR:
I'll pretend that didn't hurt.

Kiara:
Please do. You'll survive.

DR:
You're cruel.

Kiara:
I prefer honest.

DR:
Noted. I'll be careful then.

Kiara:
Too late. You already asked me personal questions.

DR:
And you answered.

Kiara:
That doesn't mean I won't regret it tomorrow.

DR:
If you do, I'll take full responsibility.

Kiara:
Very brave of you, Mr. Romano.

DR:
I had to impress you somehow.

Kiara:
You still trying?

DR:
"Always. from now"

She laughed quietly, pulling the blanket closer.

Kiara:
are you always this confident?

DR:
Only in messages.
In real life, I just pretend very well.

Kiara:
That's hard to believe.

DR:
Good. That means it's working.

Kiara:
You're impossible.

DR:
And yet, here you are... still talking to me.

Kiara:
Unfortunately.

DR:
I'll take "unfortunately" as progress.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then appeared again.

Kiara:
You know...
I'm glad we talked today.

DR:
Me too.
It makes tomorrow feel a little less heavy.

Kiara:
Yes. Like whatever happens, at least it won't be unfamiliar.

DR:
Exactly.
Whatever happens-we'll face it knowing each other a little better.

Kiara:
Hmm.

DR:
That "hmm" again.

Kiara:
It means... good night.

DR:
Then I'll say it properly.
Good night, Kiara soon-to-be Romano.

A shy smile comes on her lips at the name , her chekh red like tomato.

Kiara:
Good night, Donato Romano.

She placed her phone beside her, heart oddly light.

Across the city, Donato set his phone down too, a small smile lingering on his lips. For the first time in a long while, the future didn't feel like a battle plan. It felt like a conversation- one he didn't want to end.

Thank you Pleas share your precious thoughts. and don't forget to tap that heart, bye bye. 😊🫀