Chapter 11
RUHI POV
" Ruhi? What are you preparing since morning? " Lorenzo ask curiously as he peek through my shoulder, his arm wrapped around my waist.
"Today is Krishna Janmashtmi" i replied with a soft smile on my face.
"Krishna Janmashtmi? What's that?" He asked, ofcourse he doesn't know Krishna Janmashtmi infact he doesn't know about indian culture.
“It’s the celebration of Lord Krishna’s birth,” I said, shaping another laddoo before placing it on the plate.
“Krishna is one of the most loved deities in our culture. People believe he was mischievous as a child, stealing butter, playing pranks… but he was also wise, a protector, someone who stood against injustice.”
He blinked, trying to process it, like a child listening to a bedtime story for the first time. “So, like… a God who was also a troublemaker?”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You could say that. He was playful, but he always carried deep truths in his words. Tonight, people will fast, sing devotional songs, decorate temples, and at midnight the time believed to be his birth we break the fast and celebrate with sweets.”
Lorenzo’s eyes followed my hands as I sprinkled saffron strands into warm milk, the golden hue spreading slowly. “And you… you do all this because?”
“Because it connects us,” I replied, my voice soft, but firm.
“To our roots, to faith, to the stories we grew up with. It’s not just rituals it’s family, togetherness, devotion.
And,” I added, a teasing smile tugging at my lips, “Krishna loved butter and sweets. So naturally, we make a lot of them.”
His arm tightened slightly around my waist, pulling me back into his chest. “Sounds like a God I’d get along with,” he murmured, and I felt my cheeks warm.
I shook my head, though the smile wouldn’t leave my lips. “Of course you would. Mischief seems to run in your blood too.”
As I stirred the kheer slowly, explaining how people set up small cradles with baby Krishna idols, decorate them with flowers, and sing lullabies until midnight, I realized Lorenzo wasn’t just listening he was watching me.
Every word, every gesture, every soft smile I let slip, he absorbed like it was a language he was desperate to learn.
And for a moment, I wondered… would he ever belong in this world of mine? Could I fit him into the colors of my festivals, the prayers of my nights, the lights of my faith?
Because in his silence, I saw something I wasn’t ready to admit he didn’t just want to know about Krishna Janmashtmi. He wanted to know me.
By the time afternoon melted into evening, our small home looked transformed.
Strings of marigolds hung across the balcony, flickering diyas lined the window sills, and in the center of the living room, I had carefully placed a tiny cradle decorated with flowers, with a small idol of baby Krishna resting inside.
Lorenzo had been watching me the whole time, his eyes tracing every move as though committing them to memory. When I handed him a diya to place near the cradle, he looked at it as if I’d given him something sacred like fire itself was too delicate to hold.
“Just put it here,” I guided softly, touching his hand to steady it. The flame wavered between us before settling in its spot. For some reason, seeing him do something so simple felt strangely intimate, like he was stepping into my world one tiny act at a time.
The kheer simmered on the stove, its sweet aroma mingling with sandalwood incense. I watched him curiously as he hovered near the sweets. “You can’t eat them yet,” I reminded with a smile.
“Why not?” His lips curved into a boyish pout.
“Because it’s part of the fast. We wait till midnight. Only then we offer it first to Krishna, and then eat.”
He groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “So you’re telling me I have to starve till midnight? Ruhi, you’re trying to kill me.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You don’t even have to fast if you don’t want to. It’s just me.”
But he shook his head, surprising me. “If you’re fasting, then so am I.”
I froze, staring at him. “Lorenzo, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” His tone left no room for argument. “If this… celebration means something to you, then I’ll do it too.”
Something warm and heavy settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe. He didn’t realize what that meant sharing a fast was something deeply personal, almost sacred. And yet here he was, stubborn as ever, holding onto my world like it was already his.
As night fell, we sat together near the little cradle, the glow of diyas painting his sharp features in shades of gold and shadow. The devotional songs played softly from my phone, and for once, the silence between us wasn’t heavy it was peaceful.
At midnight, I broke my fast with a small spoon of kheer, then offered him some. He tasted it, his brows lifting in genuine surprise. “This… this is really good.”
I smiled. “It’s not just food. It’s prasad now. Blessed.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I don’t understand all of this yet, Ruhi… but if it matters to you, I want to learn. Every ritual, every story, every prayer you’ll teach me, right?”
My throat tightened as I nodded, words caught somewhere between my heart and lips. And in that moment, surrounded by flowers, lights, and prayers, I couldn’t help but wonder maybe Krishna really was mischievous… because he had given me him.
LORENZO’S POV
The night had settled around us, warm and golden with the glow of diyas still flickering across the room.
The sweet scent of incense lingered in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of saffron and cardamom from the kheer.
Ruhi sat beside me, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion after a long day of cooking, decorating, praying…
and smiling in a way that had undone me more than I’d ever admit.
She leaned against me, so softly I almost thought she hadn’t meant to.
But then her head rested on my shoulder, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks as her breathing slowed.
My arm stiffened automatically, unsure if I should move, if I should adjust her but one glance at her peaceful face, and I knew I couldn’t shift an inch.
Her warmth seeped through the fabric of my shirt, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had. I tilted my head slightly, just enough to catch the way a loose strand of her hair curved across her forehead.
And then her lips parted just slightly. A breath. A sound. My name.
“Lorenzo…” she mumbled in her sleep, her voice soft and sweet, wrapping around me like it belonged only to her and me.
My entire body went still. My heart didn’t just skip it slammed against my chest like it wanted to break free. Heat rushed up my neck, burning into my face until I was certain I’d gone red redder than the marigolds hanging across her balcony, redder than the glow of the diyas.
Dio santo. She said my name. In her sleep.
I swallowed hard, every muscle taut as I tried to steady myself.
But the truth was, I couldn’t. Not when that single word my name had fallen from her lips with such innocence, such unguarded tenderness.
She didn’t even realize she was doing it, didn’t know how utterly, devastatingly she was undoing me.
I clenched my jaw, trying to calm the wild storm inside me. But it was useless. My pulse was erratic, my chest tight, and my mind refused to quiet down. The sight of her head nestled against me, her small hand unconsciously curling near my arm, her soft breathing it was too much.
I was blushing like a fool. A grown man, sleepless and restless because his wife whispered his name in her dreams.
I leaned back carefully, letting her rest fully against me. My hand hovered for a long moment before I finally gave in and placed it gently against her shoulder, steadying her so she wouldn’t slip.
And then I just sat there, staring into the dim light, knowing one thing with absolute certainty sleep wouldn’t come to me tonight. Not when my heart was still racing, not when her voice was still echoing in my head.
Not when I’d fallen too deep already.
(Hey sweeties! Do you like this chapter? If yes then please drop a Vote and comment your opinion on it and follow me on Instagram for more spoilers or any updates)????