"Y-you knew she killed Tara. And you still love her? Still married her?" Rose asked, disbelief thick in her voice.

"Yeah. I knew. And I still love her like crazy." Donato's voice stayed level, almost casual. "I already knew Tara had been murdered. And when I found out I had a stalker--someone tracking every woman who came near me--my suspicion pointed straight there. I figured my stalker had to be the one who killed her. What I didn't know, not for a long time, was that my stalker was Kiara."

"But when you found out it was Kiara--that she was the one stalking you, the one who killed Tara--and she lied to everyone, told you all it was self-defense--" Rose's voice climbed, frustrated now. "That means you knew she was lying. That it wasn't self-defense. That it was murder."

"Yes. I know she lied about it being self-defense." He said it without flinching. "I'm a mafia boss, Rose. I know exactly what real self-defense looks like, and I know what murder looks like. I've seen both plenty of times."

"And still-- you spent five years searching for the girl who killed your ex. Still love her. Why?"

"Because I'm obsessed with my wife." Something in his voice sharpened, dropped lower. "Kiara killed Tara because she loves me--madly, dangerously. Her love isn't gentle, Rose, it's devotional. The kind that could kill for me just as easily as it could die for me."

He paused, letting that settle. "And when I fell for her, that same obsession became mine too. She's my craze. My fixation. I am completely, hopelessly in love with that woman. I am fucking obsessed with my wife. And if anyone ever tried to take her from me, I would do exactly what she did. I'd kill them too, without hesitation."

He tilted his head slightly, something dark and amused crossing his face. "So tell me, what exactly did my Kiara do wrong? She protected the one thing she loved most. Why would I ever be angry at her for that?"

He let out a low laugh. "Let me tell you something else, Rose."
Rose stared at him, wary now. "Tara's death was fixed," he said simply. "Arranged. By me."

Rose's eyes went wide. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean I knew from the very beginning that Tara was Lucas's sister. That he was the one who sent her, specifically, to get close enough to kill me." His mouth curved into a slow smirk.

"You knew? From the start?" Rose's voice had gone thin with shock.

"Everything. All of it." He nodded slowly. "I let her stay. Entertained her feelings, let her believe she was getting close to me, because through Tara, I got everything I needed on Lucas every hideout, every secret operation, every weak point.

My men tracked her every move, and piece by piece, we dismantled his entire network using exactly the access she gave us without ever realizing it. That went on for two years." He paused, something colder settling into his voice now.

"Until Lucas finally decided he'd had enough waiting and ordered my death outright. Except his own sister betrayed him at the last minute. Because somewhere in those two years, she'd actually fallen in love with me. And when it came down to it, she refused to be the one to kill me."

"I know Lucas told Tara to come to India with me and finish the job there. She did what he asked, but she had her own plan running underneath it--she wanted to trap me into a marriage contract, something she knew would never hold up back in Italy, but might, under the right circumstances, in India.

And I knew that too, from the start. I agreed to bring Tara to India myself, because I understood exactly what she was to Lucas his one real weakness, the person he'd never risk losing. My plan was to use her as leverage against him, and if that didn't work, I was prepared to kill her myself, to cut off his weakness entirely."
He paused, jaw tightening.

"But my stalker he chukkle i mean my wife--had a plan of her own. One of her men overheard the conversation between Lucas and Tara. He told her everything, and she went straight there herself to stop whatever Tara was planning before it could unfold. Tara didn't listen to reason. She was ready to kill Kiara on the spot. Kiara got to her first."

Rose absorbed this slowly, her voice thin. "So Kiara's accident the head injury, the damage to her frontal lobe was that a lie too? Staged, like everything else?"

"No. That part was real." Donato's voice hardened. "She genuinely fell and hit her head. Her frontal lobe was genuinely damaged. The medical reports don't lie I checked them twice, and I went back and checked the old reports from the accident itself. Everything lined up.

Even now, fully recovered, she still gets headaches sometimes. I noticed it--the way she presses her hand to her forehead when it happens. She thinks I don't notice. I asked her doctor about it, showed him her file. He said it's common, even years later, after an injury that severe. It's not something either of us can fully undo."

Rose fell silent. She'd come here to expose something to make Donato see his wife for what she truly was, a woman capable of killing, someone he'd built a life around without knowing the whole truth.

Except she got shocked because he already knew everything. Had known for years. And he'd chosen Kiara anyway, without hesitation, without a shred of doubt in his voice. In that silence, something inside Rose finally cracked and gave way-- the understanding that no matter what she did, no matter what truth she brought to him, there was no separating Donato Romano from his wife. It had never been possible. It was never going to be possible.

She looked down, tears sliding silently down her face.
Donato watched her for a moment, something almost like pity crossing his expression before it hardened again.

"Look, Rose. I understand what you feel. I love Kiara the same way--deeply enough that I could do exactly what she did, what you did. if it ever came to it. If someone tried to take her from me, I wouldn't hesitate either. But none of that changes anything for you. There's no version of this where you and I end up together.

Donato Romano belongs to Kiara Romano, and no one else. So don't try anything reckless. I know exactly why you're here--to unravel her life all over again. But this time, I'm standing beside her, not away from her. Don't even think about trying anything, or I will kill you myself." His voice stayed level even as the words landed with total finality.

Rose swallowed hard, tears still falling.

"I'm letting you walk away," he said, quieter now, some of the old warmth flickering through despite everything, "because once, you were my friend. I loved you like a sister, Rose. You had that once. You lost it. But for the sake of what we used to have, I'm letting you go. Leave. And don't ever show your face to me or my family again."

He turned and walked away without waiting for a response, leaving Rose standing alone, crying silently in the quiet street.
Neither of them realized someone else had heard every word.
Behind the low wall a short distance away, Kiara stood frozen, a tear slipping down her cheek.

She'd come looking for Donato after he didn't return from his call, and the moment she'd spotted him with Rose, some instinct had pulled her behind the wall instead of straight toward him. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop. But curiosity had already taken hold, and she hadn't been able to make herself walk away.

What she'd heard left her reeling. Donato had known. All along, he'd known she killed Tara--known it wasn't self-defense, known the truth behind the story she'd told everyone, and he had no problem with any of it. He'd defended her without hesitation, told Rose he'd have done the very same thing in her place.

So then why, five years ago, had he been so cold to her? Why had he shut her out entirely, let her be sent away, let her lose everything, if none of this had ever actually been about the truth of what she'd done?

Why didn't you just talk to me, she thought, the question aching sharper than anything she'd felt in weeks.
_______

Kiara stepped out from behind the wall and made her way back toward the shops before Donato could notice she'd been anywhere near, smoothing her expression into something ordinary by the time she spotted him walking back through the crowd.

He found her a few minutes later near the sweets stall, and neither of them said anything about where they'd just been Kiara didn't bring up Rose, and Donato had no idea she'd seen any of it.

They simply fell back into the rhythm of the morning like nothing had happened at all, collecting Aria from Krish, who handed her over with a dramatic sigh of relief about finally being free of "snack duty," and setting off together to explore the rest of the temple grounds.

Aria settled happily onto Donato's hip, still half a laddoo deep, chattering about the different shops they passed. Kiara walked beside them, and at some point, without either of them making a decision about it, Donato's free hand found the small of her back, resting there lightly, guiding her gently through the crowd.

Her mind was still turning over everything she'd overheard Donato knowing the truth for years, defending her without hesitation, telling Rose he'd have done exactly the same thing in her place. It sat in her chest, heavy and strange, not with anger this time but with something closer to disbelief slowly softening into understanding.

He hadn't questioned her choice back then, hadn't demanded to know why murder had been her answer instead of something else. He'd simply understood--understood that her love for him had pushed her past every rational limit, the same way his love for her, by his own admission, would have pushed him.

For weeks she'd carried the belief that Donato hadn't trusted her enough, hadn't loved her enough, to listen five years ago. Now she understood something different. He hadn't failed to trust her feelings. He'd failed to give her the chance to explain them, out loud, to his face, instead of letting an entire family decide her fate without her.

That was the wound that had never closed. Not doubt about her love. Just the absence of a conversation that should have happened and never did.

And somehow, hearing him defend her to Rose--completely, without flinching, without a single condition attached--had done something no apology in these past weeks had managed. It had shown her, plainly, that whatever mistake he'd made back then hadn't come from a lack of loving her.

It had come from grief, from panic, from a man who'd just lost his best friend and hadn't known how to hold both griefs Enzo's death and his wife's confession--at the same time.

She felt something in her chest loosen, finally, watching him now, laughing at something Aria was telling him with total seriousness about a stray dog they'd passed near the temple steps.

"Baby," Kiara said, catching Aria's attention, "did that dog have spots or stripes?"

"Spots, Mama. Big ones. Like a cow, but a dog." Aria delivered this with the gravity of an important scientific finding, and Donato bit back a laugh, glancing sideways at Kiara over their daughter's head.

Their eyes caught, and for a second neither of them said anything, something quiet passing between them--not quite forgiveness spoken aloud, but the beginning shape of it, settling into place.

"You okay?" Donato asked softly, low enough that Aria, distracted now by a vendor selling small clay diyas, wouldn't catch it.

Kiara looked at him a moment longer, then reached over and slipped her hand into his--the one not holding Aria steady lacing her fingers through his without any hesitation this time.
"I'm okay, Ro," she said quietly.

Something shifted in his face at that--surprise, then something deeper, more overwhelmed, like the small gesture had landed harder than any grand declaration could have. He squeezed her hand gently, not trusting himself to say anything back right away.

She let herself lean into him slightly as they walked, Aria still babbling happily between them about spotted dogs and clay lamps and whether they could buy one to take home, and for the first time in weeks, Kiara didn't feel the need to pull away from the warmth of it.

She understood now, walking here between the two of them, exactly why she couldn't keep him at arm's length any longer. Aria and Donato weren't just people she loved. They were the reason she could breathe properly at all.

Take either one of them away, even for a day, even for an hour, and something in her chest tightened until it felt like drowning. She'd spent five years without him and called it survival.

She didn't want to spend one more day calling it that instead of what it actually was--a life half-lived, waiting to be whole again.
She didn't say any of that out loud. She didn't need to. She just held his hand a little tighter as they walked, and let that be enough for now.
_______

Six cars pulled up outside Rajasthan's most celebrated restaurant-- Suvarna Mahal, a place known as much for its royal decor and old Rajput hospitality as for the food itself, chandeliers hanging low over long polished tables, the whole place dressed like a palace dining hall from another century.

One by one, the family spilled out of their cars. The elders gathered together first, falling into easy conversation as they made their way toward the entrance, while the couples fell into step behind them, hands linked, children balanced on hips, everyone moving as one loud, warm procession into the restaurant.

Inside, once the family was seated and the initial fuss over the menu had settled, a few of them drifted off in twos--a trip to freshen up, a moment to catch a breath after the busy morning.

In one quiet corner near the private washrooms, Enzo caught Elana's wrist gently as she passed, pulling her aside with a grin.
"Where do you think you're going," he murmured, backing her lightly against the wall, careful and playful at once.

"To wash my hands, Enzo, that's genuinely all I was doing'

"Mm. Sure." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his voice dropping. "You've been across the table from me for an hour looking like that, and I've had zero opportunity to do anything about it."

"Do anything about what," she teased, though her hands had already found the front of his shirt.

"This," he said, and kissed her--slow, unhurried, one hand curving against her waist while she melted into it, five years of marriage having done nothing to dull the way her breath still caught every time he kissed her like this, like there was nowhere else in the world he needed to be.

"We have our son at that table," she murmured against his mouth, laughing.

"The son are thoroughly distracted by his grandmother's'' he said, and kissed her again anyway. A little further down, near the second corridor, Albert had pulled Kavya gently by the hand, glancing back once to make sure Elora was still happily occupied with the colorful glass lanterns hanging near their table.

"You looked beautiful today," he said quietly, brushing his thumb along her jaw.

"You say that every day."

"Because it's true every day." He leaned in, resting his forehead briefly against hers before closing the last of the distance, kissing her with the kind of quiet, settled tenderness that came from years of choosing each other, again and again, distance and all.

Kavya's hand slid up to rest against his chest, and for a moment neither of them said anything at all, just standing there together, stealing a few private seconds in the middle of a very loud, very full day.

"I missed this," she admitted softly, when they finally broke apart. "Just us. For a second."

"We'll have more of it," Albert said, kissing her forehead this time. "I promise."

Near the far end of the restaurant, Krish had somehow maneuvered Sofia into a quiet alcove between two large potted palms, grinning like he'd won something.

"This is not subtle, Krish."

"I never claimed to be subtle." He pulled her in by the waist. "I've been engaged to you for exactly twenty four hours and I still haven't kissed my fiancée properly since the ceremony. That felt like an emergency."

"An emergency," she repeated, laughing.

"A dire one." He kissed her before she could argue further, deep and a little reckless, the kind of kiss that came with the giddy, still-new thrill of finally, officially belonging to each other after everything it had taken to get here. Sofia kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand curling into his collar, five years of longing distilled into this one unhurried, stolen moment.

"We are going to get caught," she murmured eventually, breathless.

"Worth it," Krish said, and went back for one more before either of them could think better of it.

Across the restaurant, Donato had quietly guided Kiara toward a slightly more private corner near the entrance to the outdoor courtyard, away from the noise of the main hall. He stopped there, still holding her hand, something uncertain flickering across his face despite everything they'd shared the night before.

"Kiara," he said softly.

"Yes?"

He hesitated, searching her face, unsure--even after the garden, even after she'd called him Ro today, even after her hand had found his so easily on the temple grounds-- whether she'd want this, whether he was allowed to want it as openly as he did.

"Can I-- He stopped, swallowed, tried again. "Can I kiss you? Properly. Not stolen, not in the middle of an argument. Just because I want to."

Kiara looked at him for a long moment, something soft breaking open behind her eyes, and instead of answering, she simply closed the distance herself, rising slightly on her toes and pressing her mouth to his.

The hesitation dropped out of him instantly. His hand came up to cup her face, the other settling at her waist, and he kissed her back deep and unhurried, pouring into it everything he hadn't had the words for these past weeks--the apologies, the longing, five years of missing her compressed into the slow, deliberate way he held her now, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.

Kiara kissed him back just as fully, her hand sliding up into his hair, and for a long moment neither of them thought about the restaurant, or the family waiting at the table, or anything at all beyond the two of them, finally, completely, choosing each other again.

When they finally broke apart, Donato rested his forehead against hers, breathing unsteady. "I take it," he murmured, "that's a yes."

Kiara laughed softly, still catching her breath. "Don't get used to it, Mr. Romano."

"Too late," he said, and kissed her once more before finally, reluctantly, leading her back toward the table, where four children and a curious in-laws were undoubtedly already wondering where everyone had disappeared to.
______

One by one, the couples made their way back to the table, doing an admirable job of looking casual about it--Enzo straightening his collar a touch too carefully, Sofia's cheeks still faintly flushed, Kavya smoothing her dupatta with unnecessary focus. Nobody was fooling anyone, least of all the four small children who had, apparently, spent the entire time keeping careful count of exactly how many parents had disappeared and for how long.

Aria was the first to speak up, fixing both her parents with a look of deep betrayal the moment they sat down.

"Mama. Daddy." Her lower lip jutted out. "Did you two go have fun somewhere and leave Aria all alone here?"

"Baby, we were right- Kiara started.

"Alone," Aria repeated, with the wounded gravity of someone who had suffered greatly.

"You weren't alone," Donato said, reaching for the water pitcher, avoiding eye contact with rather too much focus. "You had Elian and Elora and everyone right here."

"That's not the same as having Mama and Daddy," Aria said.

"Same!" Elian chimed in immediately, apparently deciding this was a cause worth joining. He pointed an accusing finger across the table at Enzo. "Dada and Mama disappeared too. Aria and me both got left."

"I did not disappear," Enzo said, entirely unconvincingly. "I was- checking on the kitchen."

"You don't work here," Elian said.

"I was supervising."

"You were gone a long time to supervise nothing," Elian said, folding his small arms in an uncanny imitation of his father's own posture during business calls, which made half the table nearly choke on their water.

Elora, not to be left out, tugged at Albert's sleeve with quiet, devastating precision. "Dad. Mama's lips look shiny. Like the lip thing she puts on."

Albert froze mid-sip. Kavya turned an interesting shade of pink and suddenly became very interested in the menu.

"That's-- that's just how lips look, sweetheart," Albert said, valiantly.

"Okay," Elora said, entirely unconvinced, and went back to her lemonade with the air of someone filing information away for later use.

Sofia, meanwhile, was doing her best to avoid Aria's sharp, assessing stare, which had now swiveled directly onto her and Krish.

"You too," Aria announced, pointing between them like a small, merciless judge. "You were gone too, Sofi aunty. And Krish uncle's hair is messy."

"My hair is always like this," Krish said, attempting to smooth it down and only making it worse.

"It is not," Aria said. "It was neat before."

"She's very observant," Sofia muttered to Krish under her breath.

"This is a problem."

At the head of the table, Dhani and other members. had abandoned any pretense of not enjoying this immensely, sipping her tea with the serene satisfaction of a woman watching four grown adults get thoroughly outmaneuvered by children under the age of five.

"Well," dhani said mildly, "it does seem like an awful lot of coincidental disappearing happened at once."

"Dadi Sa," Krish said, mortified.

"I'm just making an observation," she said, entirely too pleased with herself.

Aravi, seated beside her, was equally delighted, leaning toward Meera with a conspiratorial whisper that wasn't nearly quiet enough. "Do you remember being that age? Nothing gets past them."

"Nothing at all," Meera agreed, grinning at her own daughter's obvious discomfort as Aria continued to stare her down.

"Okay," Kiara said finally, laughing despite herself as she reached over and pulled Aria into her lap properly, planting a kiss firmly on top of her head. "We're sorry, baby. We won't disappear again. Promise."

"Everyone promise," Aria said, looking pointedly around the table, unwilling to let anyone off the hook.

"I promise," Enzo said solemnly, placing a hand over his heart.

"I promise," Albert said.

"I solemnly promise," Krish added, "to keep my hair perfectly neat at all times from now on."

"That's not the promise," Aria said, deeply unimpressed by this attempt at deflection.

"Fine. I promise not to disappear," Krish corrected, grinning, and reached over to steal a piece of naan off Sofia's plate as a small victory lap, which earned him a swat on the hand and another round of laughter from the table.

Satisfied, at least for the moment, Aria settled back against Kiara's chest, apparently willing to let the matter rest now that appropriate apologies had been extracted from all four guilty parties, though she kept one watchful eye on the table for the rest of the meal, clearly not fully trusting any of them to behave for long.
______

Days moved smoothly, and in that steady rhythm, Kiara found herself growing more comfortable, more at ease around Donato with each one that passed. She hadn't even fully noticed the moment it happened, but somewhere in the last two weeks, she'd started sharing a room with her husband again.

It had started innocently enough. One night, Aria had flatly refused to sleep unless both her parents were in the same room, and Kiara, unwilling to fight that particular battle at ten at night, had given in and slept there beside Donato with Aria wedged between them.

The next night, she'd simply done it again. And the night after that. Donato had noticed, of course-- noticed every single time, the quiet, deliberate way she walked in and settled down beside him without a word--but he never pointed it out, never made her feel watched for it.

He just smiled, every time, grateful in a way he kept mostly to himself, because he understood, finally, that he had his family back. His wife. His daughter. All of it, slowly returning to him.

The one thing he still wasn't sure of was whether Kiara had truly forgiven him. Fully. He wanted to ask, more than once had the words half-formed on his tongue, but every time he hesitated, afraid that pushing for an answer might undo whatever fragile, easy peace they'd found in these last few weeks.

So he let it be. Let the days carry them forward without forcing a conversation neither of them seemed ready to have yet.
Today was Aria's fifth birthday.

Just as promised, the family had gone all out for it--the Romano mansion transformed into something out of a children's dream, the garden decorated in a bright, playful theme, kids running between colorful setups, laughter and music filling the whole estate. Everyone had their own task, moving through the preparations with practiced ease.

And there, near the entrance, stood Donato--greeting guests alongside Enzo, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, doing all the right things while his eyes kept drifting, again and again, toward the mansion's front gate.

He hadn't seen Kiara since she'd gone inside to get ready. Once she made sure Aria was thoroughly occupied, running around with Elian and Elora and half a dozen other kids, and everything else was under control, Kiara had excused herself to change. That had been over an hour ago. She still hadn't come out.

Enzo, catching the pattern of Donato's wandering gaze for the fifth time in as many minutes, finally leaned over. "Darling, why do you keep staring at that gate like it's going to vanish if you look away."

"I'm just waiting for my wife," Donato admitted, a little sulky about it.

"Donato. Focus. It's your daughter's birthday, not your anniversary. You can survive an hour without staring at a door hoping your wife walks through it."

"It's not that simple, Enzo." Donato exhaled. "I gave Kiara a saree to wear for today. And I've just been waiting to see if she actually wears it."

"What does that mean?" Enzo frowned, confused.

"When Kiara's upset with me--really upset, not just annoyed she never touches anything I give her. Doesn't wear it, doesn't use it, nothing. It's been that way since Scanno." He glanced toward the gate again.

"So today, I gave her a saree and asked her to wear it for Aria's party. She'd already picked out an outfit of her own for today, she never actually said yes to wearing mine. So now I'm standing here, waiting, because if she walks out that door wearing what I gave her-

"Then what?" Enzo asked.

"Then it means one thing." Donato's expression softened, something hopeful breaking through the nervous energy. "It means my wife, Kiara Romano, has finally forgiven her husband."

Enzo stared at him for a second, then shook his head, grinning. "You are completely, hopelessly gone, darling."

"Totally," Donato agreed easily. "Madly. Gladly." He glanced back at the gate one more time. "Whatever comes with it, baby, I'll take it."
______

That's when he saw her. She was walking toward him with Sofia and Riya, laughing at something one of them had said, and Donato went completely still.

She was wearing it. The saree he'd given her. Deep sage green with delicate gold embroidery along the border, the color he'd chosen specifically because he remembered, from years ago, how it used to bring out something warm in her eyes. She looked breathtaking, and he simply stood there, robbed entirely of words.

"Baby," he said, not looking away from her.

"Hm?" Enzo said.

"Pinch me."

"Gladly." Enzo pinched him, hard, without hesitation.

Donato yelped loud enough that a few guests and several kids turned to look. Kiara stopped mid-step, frowning at the sound, and Donato quickly rubbed at his arm, offering her a sheepish smile before rounding on Enzo. "Idiot," he muttered.

Enzo just grinned, watching Kiara resume her walk toward the kids, and leaned toward Donato with a low whistle. "Darling. That's literally your own wife. You're allowed to just, you know, talk to her."

"Shut up and focus on the guests, I'm going." Donato was already moving.
"Wait, wait--where are you going, leaving me here alone?"

"I'm going to my wife." Donato pointed vaguely toward Elana, who was chattering away at her grandmother a few feet off. "There's your wife's. Go greet the guests with her."

Before Enzo could argue, Donato had already crossed half the garden. Sofia and Riya, catching sight of him approaching, exchanged a knowing look and quietly excused themselves toward the kids, leaving Kiara standing alone near the edge of the party.

He came up beside her and leaned in close, his voice low, just for her. "Thank you."

Kiara turned, a small smile already forming. "For what?"

"For wearing this saree."

She looked down at the fabric for a second, then back up at him, something softening fully in her expression--the last of whatever guarded distance she'd been holding onto finally, visibly, letting go.
"I wanted to talk to you," she said quietly. "For real, this time. Not half-conversations in the garden."

"Okay." Donato's chest tightened. "I'm listening."

She took a breath, steadying herself. "Five years ago. Why didn't you give me the chance to speak? Even once. That's the part I never understood, Donato. Not the anger, not even the hospital I understand grief makes people act in ways they wouldn't otherwise.

What I never understood is why you specifically, my husband, never once sat me down and asked me to explain myself. You just let everyone else decide."

Donato's throat worked, and he didn't look away from her, even though it clearly cost him something. "I know. I've asked myself that same question every single day for five years." He exhaled slowly.

"The truth is, it was too much for me all at once. Enzo had just died. I thought I'd lost my best friend, my brother, and I hadn't even had time to process that before Rose came to me with everything about the stalking, about Tara. It felt like the ground had opened up twice in the same week. I wasn't thinking clearly.

I wasn't thinking at all, really. I just needed time--I told myself I'd give myself a few days to absorb it, and then I'd come to you, sit with you, actually ask you what happened instead of just believing what I'd been told."

He paused, jaw tight. "And then the Japan meeting came up. Business I couldn't push off, not with everything else falling apart around the family at the same time. I told myself I'd deal with it the moment I got back.

I was ready to talk to you, Kiara. I swear to you, I was ready to listen. But by the time I landed back home, everything had already happened without me. You were already gone. Sent away. And I- His voice cracked. "I- know you were staying in that library, and i have to talk to you.

I realy wanted to come to you sweetheart. But elana broken face always stop me. Its remind me of enzo. And i stop my self to come to you. I was afraid that what if i got angry and said things that will hurt you, that will make me regert later. But I didn't realise that my silence and ignorance was hurting you more than my anger.

Tears had gathered in his eyes now, and he didn't bother hiding them. "I know what you went through in that library, Kiara. Every single day of it. I know how much you begged for someone to just listen, and nobody came, and I wasn't there either, and that's on me.

That will always be on me. I don't have an excuse good enough to make that okay. I just have the truth--that I failed you when you needed me most, and I've spent five years living with exactly how much that failure cost us both."

He reached for her hand, holding it gently, like he still wasn't entirely sure he was allowed to. "I'm sorry, Kiara. Not the kind of sorry I've said to you a hundred times these past weeks. I mean it with everything I have. Please--forgive me. Not for my sake alone. For us. For the family we still have a chance to build, if you'll let me stay in it."

Kiara stood there for a long moment, looking at him, five years of grief and anger and love all tangled together behind her eyes, and then, slowly, she reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb.

"I forgive you, Ro," she said softly, and the old name came easily now, warm and certain, nothing hesitant left in it at all. "I forgave you a while ago, honestly. I think I just needed to hear you say all of that, out loud, before I let myself believe it fully."

Donato let out a breath that sounded almost like a sob, relief crashing through him all at once, and he pulled her into his arms right there in the middle of the garden, holding her tightly while the party carried on around them, oblivious.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair. "I have never once, in five years, stopped loving you."

"I love you too," Kiara whispered back, arms wrapped around him just as tightly. "I never stopped either. Not even when I didn't remember why."

They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other, finally, fully at peace-- and a few feet away, Aria, spotting her parents locked in an embrace, abandoned her game entirely and came sprinting across the grass, crashing into both their legs at once with a delighted shriek.

"Family hug!" she announced, wrapping her small arms around as much of them as she could reach.

Donato laughed, breaking away just enough to scoop her up into the embrace too, and Kiara pulled them both close, the three of them standing together in the middle of the garden, surrounded by family, by laughter, by everything they'd fought so hard to get back.

Whatever the years ahead still held, they would face it exactly like this--together, finally whole.
______

The party wound down slowly as evening settled over the mansion, string lights flickering on across the garden one by one, casting everything in warm gold. Most of the guests had drifted toward the tables for dinner, the children finally slowing after hours of running, Aria curled up half-asleep against Aravi's shoulder with cake still smudged at the corner of her mouth.

Donato found Kiara near the edge of the garden, standing quietly by herself for the first time all day, watching the lights reflect off the small fountain nearby. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin against her shoulder.

"Tired?" he murmured.

"Happy," she said instead, leaning back into him. "Happier than I think I've let myself be in a long time."

He turned her gently to face him, and for a moment they just stood there, foreheads touching, the noise of the party fading into something distant and unimportant.

"Do you remember," Donato said quietly, "what I told you that first night, in Scanno? On that bench, when I still didn't know if you'd ever come back to me?"

"You said a lot of things that night."

"I said I'd wait. However long it took. Even if you never remembered, even if you never forgave me." His thumb traced along her jaw. "I meant every word of it, Kiara. I would have waited a lifetime for you. I would have rebuilt myself around whatever pieces of you were willing to stay."

"I know," she said softly. "I think some part of me knew it even before I remembered why."

"That's the thing about how I love you." His voice dropped lower, more serious now. "It was never conditional. Not on your memory. Not on your forgiveness. Not on anything you did or didn't do five years ago, or five years from now.

You could have walked away from me in that café in Scanno and never looked back, and I would have spent the rest of my life loving a woman who wasn't mine to love anymore. That's just what you are to me, Kiara. Not a choice I make every morning. Just--the truth of who I am."

Kiara's eyes filled, and she didn't try to stop it this time. "That's terrifying, you know," she whispered. "Loving someone that much. Being loved that much."

"I know." He pressed his lips gently to her forehead. "It terrifies me too, sometimes. How much I need you. How little of myself makes sense without you in it." He pulled back just enough to look at her properly.

"But I'd rather live terrified and whole with you than safe and empty without you. I chose that a long time ago, and nothing that happened these past five years changed it. Nothing ever will."

She reached up and cupped his face in both hands, memorizing it the way she used to, back before any of this had happened, back when loving him had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Then let's stop being careful with each other," she said. "I don't want half-conversations anymore. I don't want distance dressed up as patience. I want all of it, Ro. The whole life we almost lost."

"You have it," he said, voice thick. "You've had it since the day I saw you standing outside that café. You just needed time to believe it was real."

"I believe it now."

He kissed her then, slow and unhurried, no hesitation left in either of them, the kind of kiss that carried five years of grief and longing and finally, finally, arriving somewhere solid.

Around them, the garden lights glowed warm against the darkening sky, laughter and music drifting from the tables where their family--both families, woven together now into one--sat eating and teasing each other the way families do.

When they finally pulled apart, Aria stirred against Aravi's shoulder nearby, blinking sleepily, and called out, "Mama? Daddy?"

"Right here, baby," Kiara said, and Donato was already moving to scoop her up, settling her against his chest as she immediately melted into sleep again, one small hand curled into his shirt.

Kiara slipped her arm through his, and together, the three of them turned back toward the light and noise of the party toward the family waiting for them, toward the years still ahead, toward everything they had almost lost and had, against every odd, found their way back to.

Some loves survive because they are careful. Theirs had survived because it never once knew how to be anything less than everything.

And for Donato and Kiara Romano, that was always going to be enough. Afterall its there DEADLY DEVOTION LOVE. That has no limits.

What lived between them had never been the gentle, careful kind of love people wrote songs about. Hers had a blade in it. She had proven that once, in a room with blood on the floor, without a second's hesitation, because some part of her had always understood that loving Donato Romano completely meant loving him past the point where most people would stop.

She had never regretted it. Not once, not even lying awake with the guilt of it sitting alongside the memory. Tara had reached for what was hers, and Kiara had made sure nothing ever would again.

And Donato--Donato had spent five years proving his side of it in quieter, colder ways. Every appeal he'd blocked. Every year he'd made certain Rose stayed exactly where she belonged, forgotten and powerless, while he searched every inch of two continents for a wife everyone else had buried.

He hadn't grieved her the way a normal man grieves. He had refused to. Grief admits an ending, and Donato had simply never accepted that one was possible. That wasn't patience. That was a man who understood.

somewhere underneath all his charm and his teasing and his ridiculous garden paintings, exactly what he was capable of if anyone ever tried to take her from him permanently--and who had built five years of his life around making sure no such person ever got the chance to try.

He held her now like he still hadn't quite let go of that fear. Like some part of him would hold her exactly this tightly for the rest of both their lives, because letting go, even a little, had once cost him everything.

"I would do it again," Kiara murmured against his chest, so quiet only he could hear it. "Everything. Tara. The gun. All of it. If it meant keeping you."

"I know." His arms tightened. "I'd never ask you to feel sorry for it.

I'm not sorry either, for what I'd do to anyone who tried to take you from me. I don't think either of us knows how to love in half measures. I don't think we ever will."

"That should scare me," she said.

"Does it?"

She tilted her head up to look at him, something fierce and unashamed settling into her expression. "No."

"Good." He kissed her once more, slower this time, deliberate. "Because I am not a gentle man who happened to fall in love with you, Kiara. I am obsessed with you. Completely. I have been since the beginning.

long before any of this happened, and nothing that came after changed that--it only proved it. You are not a woman I love carefully. You are the one thing in this world I would burn down everything else to keep."

"Then don't ever let go of me again," she whispered.

"Never," he said, and meant it the way he meant everything with her--absolutely, irreversibly, without a single soft edge left to it.
Around them the party carried on, warm and ordinary, full of cake and laughter and a five-year-old already asleep against her father's shoulder.

but underneath all of that ordinary warmth sat something the rest of the world would never fully see. Two people who had each, in their own way, proven there was nothing they wouldn't do for the other. Not devotion in the gentle sense.

Devotion with teeth. Devotion that had killed, and waited years, and crossed oceans, and would do all of it again without blinking, because some loves are not soft enough to survive on kindness alone. Theirs had never needed to be. It only needed to be absolute. And it was.

And that's it the end of Deadly Devotion. I won't pretend this story is perfect. There were parts I doubted, plot threads I second-guessed and an ending I'm still not fully sure is "right." But somewhere in the middle of everything else going on in my life this year finishing this story became something I just needed to do. Not for views, not for perfection just to see it through the same way Donato and Kiara saw each other through.🫡

If you stayed with this story from the very beginning to this last line through the fire, the five years apart, Scanno, Kiara's memories coming back piece by piece, the mafia politics, two families colliding, and everything before and after thank you. Genuinely. You gave your time to something I built slowly, and sometimes unevenly, but always with everything I had in that moment.💐✨

This was never meant to be a soft, safe love story. Donato and Kiara's love was never gentle it was devotion with teeth, the kind that doesn't ask permission and never apologizes for what it's capable of. I hope that came through, even in the messy parts.🤷

A special thank you to my lovely reader, Preeti. who gave me this plot in the first place and asked me to write it. I hope I came somewhere close to the vision you had for this story in your head. I know I probably didn't do it full justice, but I tried, for you. Thank you so much, Preeti.☺️🫡

Thank you for reading. Thank you for staying till the end. This story is done now, but I'm grateful to everyone who walked through it with me. With love, always
Your Author Inha. 🫀🤜

                                                                  THE END🫡