Chapter 29
"Do you really need to go to school?" I asked, my arm still wrapped around her as her head rest on my chest.
She hums softly against my chest instead of answering, her fingers tracing idle patterns over my skin.
That’s her response.
I tighten my arm around her, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. Morning light spills through the curtains, catching on her face, and for a moment the world feels… normal. Peaceful. Something I don’t deserve—but crave anyway.
“Stay,” I murmur, half-joking, half-serious.
She tilts her head up to look at me, eyes gentle but firm. “You know I can’t.”
Of course she can’t. Ruhi doesn’t run from responsibility. That’s one of the thousand reasons I love her.
I sigh dramatically, earning a quiet laugh from her, and roll onto my back, letting her rest there a few seconds longer.
I memorize the weight of her, the warmth, the way she fits like she was always meant to be here.
When she finally slips out of bed, I watch her get ready, leaning against the doorframe like a man trying not to unravel. She kisses my cheek before leaving, soft and quick.
“Don’t miss me too much,” she teases.
I smile. “Impossible.”
The door closes behind her, and just like that, the calm fractures.
By late morning, I’m back in the version of my life I never let her see. Phone calls. Orders given in low voices.
Men standing at attention. Bloodless decisions that still cost lives. I handle it all efficiently, ruthlessly because that’s who I was before her.
But my mind keeps drifting.
To her.
It’s early afternoon when my phone rings again. One look at the screen and my jaw tightens.
Grandfather.
I answer immediately.
“What did you do?” I ask coldly, skipping pleasantries.
His chuckle crackles through the line, slow and deliberate. “Straight to the point. Good. You always were like that.”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Where is she?”
A pause. Too long.
“She’s with me,” he says calmly. “In Italy.”
The world stops.
My chest constricts, rage slamming into me so hard I have to sit down. “You touched her?” I growl. “If you laid a single finger on her—”
“Relax,” he interrupts. “She’s unharmed. For now.”
That single phrase is enough to snap something inside me.
“You kidnapped her,” I whisper, voice lethal.
“I brought her,” he corrects. “Because you’ve been careless, Lorenzo. Weak. You forgot who you are.”
I see red.
“If anything happens to her,” I say slowly, every word measured, “there won’t be a place on this earth where you can hide from me.”
Another chuckle. “Then come to Italy,” he replies. “Let’s see how far your obsession takes you.”
The call ends.
I stare at the blank screen, heart pounding, blood roaring in my ears.
Ruhi.
I grab my jacket, already moving, already planning.
They took the one thing I swore to protect.
And now?
Italy is going to burn.
Italy greets me with marble floors and old memories—but the sight in front of me makes me halt mid-step.
My grandfather is sitting comfortably at the long table, legs crossed, glasses perched on his nose.
And Ruhi—
Ruhi is playing chess with him.
Not kidnapped.
Not terrified.
Very much arguing.
“No, no,” my grandfather says, tapping the board with his cane. “That move is illegal.”
Ruhi scoffs. “Sir, you’re just saying that because you’re losing.”
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
This… is not the rescue mission I mentally prepared for.
She looks up and freezes when she sees me. Her eyes widen. “Lorenzo!”
Before she can stand, my grandfather sighs dramatically. “Ah. Finally. The groom decides to show up.”
I walk forward slowly, eyes never leaving Ruhi. “Are you okay?”
She nods, trying not to smile. “He kidnapped me for tea and chess.”
Traitor.
My grandfather stands, arms opening wide. “Come here, ragazzo.”
He pulls me into a firm hug before I can even react, patting my back like I’m still eight years old and scraped my knee.
“You went back to India as soon as possible after 3 years ” he says, pulling back to glare at me, “and then I hear you’re getting married from my accountant.”
I wince. “Nonno—”
He raises a finger. “Do you know how insulting it is to find out your grandson is getting married after the florist?”
Ruhi bites her lip to hide her laugh.
“I raised you,” he continues, dramatically pacing. “Fed you. Taught you chess. And this is how you repay me?”
“You taught me to survive,” I say calmly. “Not to announce my love life.”
He stops. Looks at Ruhi. Then back at me.
“Well,” he hums, “she seems smart. Beat me in three moves.”
Ruhi gasps. “You let me win!”
“Absolutely not,” he replies proudly. “I’m just old.”
He turns to me again, eyes soft now. “You should have told me, Lorenzo.”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “I was going to. I just… didn’t expect you to kidnap my fiancée first.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Details.”
Then he looks at Ruhi, smiling warmly. “You’re marrying an idiot. But he’s mine.”
She steps closer to me, sliding her hand into mine. “I figured.”
My grandfather chuckles. “Good. Because the wedding better be in Italy.”
I groan. “Nonno—”
He grins. “What? I already cleared my schedule.”
Ruhi laughs openly now, leaning into me.
And for the first time since landing in Italy, the place doesn’t feel like a cage.
It feels like home.
Dinner feels nothing like a hostage situation and everything like a strange family reunion I didn’t know I missed.
The long dining table is filled with food—real food, not the intimidating kind served at formal mafia dinners. Ruhi sits beside me, her shoulder brushing mine every time she moves, grounding me more than the wine ever could.
My grandfather watches us like a hawk.
“So,” he says casually while cutting his steak, “when exactly were you planning to tell me you’re in love?”
I choke on my drink.
Ruhi pats my back gently, pretending to be innocent. “He’s shy.”
“I am not—” I start, then stop when my grandfather raises an eyebrow.
“Lorenzo,” he says calmly, “you once threatened a minister with a smile. Do not tell me you’re shy.”
Ruhi laughs. Really laughs. The sound does something dangerous to my chest.
Between bites, she pulls her phone out. “I should inform the school,” she murmurs. “I’ll be absent for a few days.”
My grandfather perks up instantly. “School?”
“She’s a teacher,” I say.
He looks impressed. “Of course she is. You always liked intelligent women.”
Ruhi types quickly, fingers moving with practiced ease.
Due to a family emergency, I’ll be on leave for a few days…
She hesitates, then adds a polite apology before sending it.
Done.
She exhales softly, like she’s been holding that breath all day.
“You okay?” I murmur.
She nods. “Just strange. I didn’t expect Italy to happen like this.”
My grandfather smiles into his wine. “Nothing important ever happens the expected way, dear.”
The dinner continues with light teasing, stories from my childhood I wish had remained buried, and Ruhi slowly relaxing into the space beside me.
At some point, she rests her head on my shoulder without thinking.
And no one comments on it.
Not even him.
For the first time, I realize this isn’t just about survival anymore.
It’s about belonging.
And somehow, impossible
We’re already there.