chapter 31
“What? You’re going back to India?” his grandfather repeats, eyes moving between us like he’s hoping one of us will say just kidding.
Lorenzo nods calmly. “For the wedding. The first one.”
His grandfather sighs dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “I raised you for all these years and this is how you repay me? By stealing my chess partner and taking her to another country?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Chess partner?”
“Yes,” he says, pointing at me. “She cheats less than you.”
Lorenzo scoffs. “That’s because you let her win.”
I smile softly, but my heart tightens when I see his grandfather’s eyes linger on me, unreadable and heavy.
“So you’re really leaving,” he says, quieter now.
“Just for some days,” I reply gently. “I promise.”
He hums, unconvinced, then suddenly stands up and pulls me into a hug before I can react. It’s warm, protective—like a grandfather who already decided I belong.
“Take care of him,” he murmurs near my ear. “He forgets to eat when he’s in love.”
Lorenzo groans. “Nonno—”
“And don’t let him boss you around,” his grandfather continues, ignoring him completely. “If he does, that glare of yours? Use it.”
I laugh softly. “It works.”
“I noticed,” he says proudly.
When we finally step back, his grandfather cups my face gently. “Come back soon,” he says. “This house gets too quiet without you.”
“I will,” I promise, meaning it with everything in me.
As we walk toward the door, Lorenzo pauses, turning back. “I’ll call. Every day.”
“You better,” his grandfather replies. “Or I’ll call her and complain about you.”
The drive away feels heavier than I expected.
I look back once—just once—and see him standing there, waving slowly.
And for the first time since coming to Italy, I realize something clearly.
I’m not just leaving a place.
I’m leaving family.
The wind brushes against my face as we walk across the private runway, the sound of the jet humming softly in the background. The sky is clear, wide, endless—like everything waiting ahead of us.
Lorenzo’s hand finds mine, fingers lacing together naturally, possessively. Not in a way that cages me but in a way that says you’re not walking alone anymore.
I glance at him. He looks calm, focused, but there’s something softer in his eyes today. Lighter.
“Cold?” he asks, shrugging his coat slightly around my shoulders.
“A little,” I admit.
He smirks. “India will fix that.”
The steps of the jet come into view, sleek and intimidating. For a second, the reality hits me—we’re really doing this. Crossing countries. Lives. Futures.
I stop walking.
Lorenzo notices instantly. He turns, brows knitting. “Hey.”
I look up at him. “Everything feels… big.”
He steps closer, forehead resting against mine. “Good,” he murmurs. “Big things are worth it.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, grounding me. I breathe in slowly, then nod.
We climb the steps together.
Inside, the jet is quiet, luxurious, but all I notice is the way he pulls me into the seat beside him, arm draped over my shoulder like it belongs there—like I belong there.
As the engines roar to life, I feel it.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Excitement.
The jet lifts off smoothly, Italy shrinking beneath us, and I rest my head on his shoulder.
“Next stop,” he says softly, lips brushing my hair, “India.”
I smile.
Home.
India welcomes us with familiar warmth—the kind that settles into your bones and feels like home before you even step outside. The air is louder here, fuller. Life moving all at once.
Lorenzo doesn’t comment on it. He never does. He just slips his sunglasses on, hand firm at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd like this city knows him as well as it knows me.
We reach my apartment by evening.
Nothing has changed.
The same balcony. The same wind chime near the door. The same quiet that once felt lonely—but now feels peaceful.
Leo greets us first, tail wagging like it might fall off. Lorenzo crouches instantly, ruffling his fur, murmuring something soft in Italian that makes Leo even happier.
I watch them for a moment, heart full in a way words can’t explain.
That night, we fall asleep tangled together, the city lights glowing faintly through the curtains.
For the first time, tomorrow doesn’t scare me.
The next morning comes faster than I expect.
I get ready for school out of habit—simple saree, hair neatly tied, bindi in place. Lorenzo watches from the bed, chin propped on his hand, eyes following me like he’s memorising every detail.
“You’re staring,” I say, adjusting my bangles.
“Good,” he replies. “I like knowing what the world gets to see.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.
He drops me at the school gate like always. No drama. No goodbyes that feel heavy. Just a soft kiss against my knuckles and a quiet, “I’ll pick you up.”
Inside, the corridors buzz with the usual chaos. Students running. Teachers complaining. Life, unchanged.
During recess, I find myself standing in the staff room, heart pounding slightly—not from fear, but from anticipation.
I clear my throat.
“I have something to tell you all,” I say.
They look up.
“I’m getting married.”
For a second, there’s silence.
Then—noise.
Gasps. Smiles. Questions thrown all at once.
“When?” “Who?” “Finally!”
I laugh, holding up my hands. “Soon. And… I’d like to invite all of you.”
I pass around the simple invitation cards I had printed quietly, carefully. Each one feels real in my hands.
This is happening.
As they congratulate me, tease me, hug me, I realise something important,
For the first time, my happiness doesn’t feel fragile.
It feels solid.
And when I look out the window, imagining Lorenzo waiting somewhere outside, I know ,
This is just the beginning.
The bell rings, sharp and final.
I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, chalk still warm between my fingers, my students staring at me with confused expressions. I smile at them, but my chest feels tight.
Some goodbyes are harder than you expect.
I smooth my saree and walk toward the principal’s office, resignation letter folded neatly in my bag. Each step feels heavy, not because I regret it but because this place was once my whole world.
The principal looks up as I enter.
“You’re sure?” he asks gently after reading the letter.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
There’s a pause. Then a small, understanding smile. “You were one of our best teachers, Ruhi. We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss this place too,” I say honestly.
When I walk back toward my class to collect my things, the news has already spread.
They know.
The moment I step inside, everything breaks.
“Ma’am, no…” “Why are you leaving?” “Please don’t go.”
A few of them are crying openly now. One girl rushes forward and hugs me tightly, followed by others. My eyes burn, but I kneel down, holding them close.
“I’m not disappearing,” I whisper. “I’m just starting a new chapter.”
“But who will scold us now?” one boy sniffles.
I laugh through my tears. “Trust me, you’ll find someone even scarier.”
That earns a few weak giggles.
I say goodbye to each of them individually. Promising to visit. Promising to remember them. And I mean it.
When I finally step out of the school gates, my heart feels painfully full.
And then I see him.
Lorenzo is already there, leaning against the car like he owns the world, sunglasses on, jaw sharp and right beside him, Leo sits proudly, tail wagging like crazy the moment he spots me.
I stop walking.
My breath catches.
Lorenzo straightens instantly when he sees my face. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t rush me.
He just opens his arms.
I walk straight into them.
Leo jumps up, placing his paws on my legs, demanding attention, grounding me completely. I laugh softly, crouching to hug him, burying my face in his fur.
Lorenzo’s hand rests on my head, steady. Protective.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
I nod against his chest. “Yeah.”
And I mean it.
Because as I stand there my past behind me, my future waiting I realise something with quiet certainty.
I didn’t lose anything today.
I chose myself.