37. Florence
I'm so done with silent readers. You're not helping at all guys. I should switch back to a single update per week at this point.
Chapter 38 to 53 available on scrollstack.
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“Go clean it in the washroom,” Ishaan said roughly as soon as Yugant stepped away to attend the call.
Dhrithika looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“I don’t know where the washroom is.”
“That way.” He pointed toward the signboard across the terminal. She followed his gaze.
“Okay… but it’s far away and I’m tired.”
The exact same excuse she had given Yugant.
Ishaan pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea how to argue with women. So instead of continuing the debate, he pulled out his handkerchief and, to avoid further drama, crouched down in front of her, starting to clean her hands.
“You can sit on the chair,” she said, glancing at the empty seat beside her.
“No, I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m just a normal PA and you’re my boss’s sister. There’s a difference.”
He kept his focus on wiping the mayonnaise off her fingers.
“The difference exists only in your head,” she replied, clearly annoyed by his thinking.
Ishaan stayed silent. He didn’t have the patience to keep responding. He already knew once she started talking, she wouldn’t stop.
Without another word, he moved to wipe the sauce from the corner of her mouth.
She caught his wrist mid-air.
“Don’t ruin my lipstick.”
His hand froze hearing her words. His eyes moved to her lips once then he slowly placed the handkerchief in her palm. “Clean it yourself.”
“Arey! If I do it, I’ll mess it up. I don’t even have a proper mirror. Just do it and make sure you don’t spoil it.”
Ishaan glanced toward Yugant, who was still busy on an important call.
He could handle Yugant but this sister of his?
Impossible.
He took the handkerchief back and gently held her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“Stay still,” he muttered. “And don’t you dare talk.”
Dhrithika made an exaggerated face but remained quiet.
Ishaan carefully wiped the sauce from around her lips, concentrating harder than he did during business meetings, making sure her lipstick stayed intact.
“Is it done?” she asked the moment his hand stopped.
“Hmm. Done,” he replied and immediately pulled his hand away.
She nodded, then opened her purse and pulled out a compact. Looking into the tiny mirror, she examined her face.
Ishaan watched in disbelief as she took out her lipstick and reapplied it anyway.
He said nothing, but internally he understood one thing clearly that handling the Raizaada siblings was going to be the toughest assignment of his career.
Both of them were mentally exhausting in very different ways.
“Can you give me your handkerchief?” Dhrithika asked, extending her hand.
He handed it over silently, not wanting to invite another argument.
She folded one corner and lightly pressed it between her lips, blotting the excess lipstick, then handed it back to him.
He looked at the lipstick stain on the fabric… then at her.
“Does it look good?” she asked, pouting her lips. “Or should I change the shade?”
He rubbed his hand over his face. They weren’t going to a wedding but he controlled himself.
“It looks perfect.”
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. She slipped the compact and lipstick back into her purse and stood up, stretching her arms.
“Okay! I’m ready for the flight.”
Ishaan felt a strange sense of helplessness.
If he had ever thought Dhwani was dramatic, he now realized he had judged too soon.
Compared to Dhrithika, Dhwani had been calm in her own way. At least she try to do her work, but Dhrithika didn't even try.
This was his first time traveling this closely with both Raizaada siblings and he was already certain. He would return with half his sanity missing.
As Yugant disconnected the call, the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal.
“Passengers for Flight … are requested to proceed to Gate …”
He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“Let’s move,” he said shortly. Without wasting another second, the three of them grabbed their luggage trolley and headed toward the boarding gate.
?
The flight finally landed in Florence after nearly seventeen exhausting hours, including one stop since there was no direct route.
By the time they stepped out of the airport, the cool Italian air hit their faces.
Dhrithika looked anything but tired. She was practically glowing.
Her eyes moved everywhere at once architecture, language on signboards. She looked like an overexcited kid on her first school trip.
The hotel booking was, once again, handled by Dhrithika.
Which meant both Yugant and Ishaan were silently praying she hadn’t repeated her airport-ticket masterpiece.
To their surprise and relief she hadn’t.
The car she had arranged was already waiting outside. Within thirty minutes, they reached the hotel, a classy boutique property near the exhibition venue, elegant but not over-the-top.
They walked to the reception.
The receptionist greeted them warmly and handed over the key cards after verification.
As they were going towards their respective rooms, Dhrithika grinned looking at the two men beside her and said, “See? I’m not irresponsible.”
Ishaan exhaled quietly. “Miracles do happen.”
“Bhaiya, your robotic PA has been talking a lot since the airport. What new chip did you install on him before coming here?” Dhrithika asked, glaring openly at Ishaan as they stepped out of the elevator.
Ishaan looked at her with clenched teeth but like always, he controlled himself. That was his talent.
“Dhriti, that’s not nice,” Yugant said calmly. “He’s older than you. You shouldn’t talk to him like that.”
Whatever equation existed between him and Ishaan professionally, in Yugant’s eyes, Dhrithika was still young and disrespecting someone older was simply wrong.
“But he is robotic, Bhaiya…” she argued, then stopped mid-sentence when she saw Yugant's expression change.
“Enough,” Yugant said firmly. “If I said it’s wrong, then it’s wrong.”
He caught her wrist gently, intending to pull her along toward their rooms.
But she pressed her feet harder into the floor, refusing to move.
Stubborn.
Yugant exhaled slowly.
This was exactly how she was fiercely stubborn and he knew it.
He knew how irritating that habit could be. He knew how unreasonable she could get.
But he also it all happened because of Adhvait, he made her like this. It was his mistake to leave Dhrithika with him for two years even though he knows how wrong that decision was.
He knows they don't have parents and somewhere in his heart, he had taken it upon himself to fill that gap — to be the protective figure, the responsible one, the person she could rely on without question.
Maybe that was why he rarely scolded her harshly and often gave in.
“Dhriti…” he softened his tone this time.
“Say sorry first,” Dhrithika demanded, folding her arms.
Yugant looked at her for a moment, then at Ishaan.
“Sorry.”
Ishaan shook his head in disbelief, staring at Yugant as if questioning his life choices.
“Now don’t be stubborn and come,” Yugant added calmly.
That was all she needed. Dhrithika’s expression changed instantly. A satisfied smile curved on her lips as she stepped forward and walked beside him as if nothing had happened.
Ishaan remained standing there for a second.
Irritated.
Too irritated.
He had just been indirectly insulted… and now his boss had apologized on his behalf.
Unbelievable.
?
“Yes, Bhai. I just reached the hotel,” I said the moment I stepped inside the grand glass doors of the hotel Samarth Bhai had booked for me.
Florence.
I was finally here.
Even the air felt different.
“Did you check the room? Is it good?” Bhai asked immediately.
“Nope. I just walked in. I’m heading toward reception,” I replied, glancing back as two housekeeping staff pulled my suitcases and paintings behind me on a trolley.
The lobby was elegant — warm golden lights, marble flooring, tall ceilings with intricate designs.
“Okay. Take the key card from reception first,” Bhai instructed.
“Alright, hold on.”
I stepped up to the reception desk.
The woman behind the counter looked up with a polite smile. She was in her late thirties.
“Buona sera,” she greeted warmly, though I didn't understand. “How may I help you?”
“Hi. I have a booking here under the name Dhwani Rathore.”
She nodded and began typing into her system.
“Yes, Miss Rathore,” she pronounced carefully in a soft Italian accent. “One executive suite, ten nights. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“May I please see your passport for verification?”
“Sure.”
I quickly pulled it out from my handbag and handed it to her.
She scanned it, compared the details, then looked back at me with a professional smile.
“Perfetto. Everything is in order.”
She printed out a document and slid it toward me.
“If you would kindly sign here, please.”
I signed where she indicated.
“Breakfast is served from seven to ten-thirty in the morning at our rooftop restaurant,” she continued smoothly. “The exhibition venue you mentioned in your notes is only eight minutes walk from here. If you need a taxi or assistance, we are always happy to help.”
I nodded.
She handed me a sleek black key card inside a small envelope.
“Room 512. Fifth floor. Elevator to your left. We hope you enjoy your stay in Florence, Miss Rathore.”
“Thank you.”
I picked up the key card and stepped aside, phone still pressed to my ear.
“Bhai, I got the key. Room 512.”
“Good. Go check the room and call me once you’re settled and don't use stairs, use the elevator, be a little brave Dhwani.”
“Yes, boss,” I teased lightly.
He huffed softly. “Take care.”
“You too.”
I disconnected and looked towards the elevator. Okay, another challenge.
The doors slid open silently, I stepped inside followed by the staff.
Thank God, I am not alone even though my hands get sweaty instantly, and my heart starts beating faster than usual. It happens every time but I tried to stay calm because the place looks so good.
Why did everything feel so… peaceful here?
There was something about the air, the silence, the unfamiliar language floating around, it all felt calm. Gentle. Different from the chaos I was used to.
I placed my hand over my heart, feeling its steady rhythm. I just hope everything goes well.
The elevator dinged softly as the doors slid open.
I stepped out, followed by the housekeeping staff pushing my luggage trolley. They guided me toward Room 512.
One of them swiped the key card, pushed the door open, and stepped aside to let me enter first.
I walked in, the staff settled the luggage inside and walked away shutting the door behind.
The room was perfect.
Cozy, yet elegant in its own way. Neutral tones, soft lighting, a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets, a small sitting area near the window.
I walked toward the window and pulled the curtains slightly aside.
Outside, the Florence skyline stretched beautifully under the fading light. I could see the highways weaving through the city, cars moving like tiny glowing dots. Down below, the hotel pool shimmered in turquoise, a few people lounging around, some laughing, some swimming.
So pretty and peaceful.
The first thing I did was open my suitcase and start arranging my clothes in the cupboard. I knew myself if I didn’t organize them now, I’d spend the next ten days digging through chaos every morning.
Once the clothes were neatly placed, I carefully opened the case that held my paintings. Bhai had packed them so securely, layer after layer of protection, as if they were glass.
I placed them one by one on the bed, removing the covers gently. For a few seconds, I just looked at them.
My work.
My emotions.
My silence turned into color.
Later, I arranged them around the room, leaning some against the wall near the desk, keeping a few safely back in the case.
I made a mental note — I’d have to go out and buy fresh canvas and colors. I hadn’t brought them along, thinking it would be easier to purchase everything locally.
After settling everything, I pulled out a loose T-shirt and shorts from the cupboard and headed to the bathroom.
The shower was warm and calming. The exhaustion from the seventeen-hour flight slowly melted away under the water.
By the time I stepped out, my body felt lighter.
But the tiredness caught up with me quickly.
So I ended up sleeping straight for three hours, and by the time I properly woke up, it was evening.
The room was dim, golden sunlight slipping through the curtains.
I stretched lazily and checked the time.
Okay.
Not bad.
I pulled on a fitted crop top, high-waisted jeans, and sneakers. Florence or not, I wasn’t sacrificing comfort. I grabbed my handbag and quickly applied sunscreen.
The sunlight outside looked harsh. I did not want a sunburn on my first day.
After that, I slid the key card into my purse and stepped out of my room.
I thought to avoid the elevator but I realized I was on the fifth floor, not a good idea though. This was a big hotel. Surely someone would be around.
I pressed the elevator button.
When the doors opened, I looked up and froze. My lips parted in shock.
There was a couple inside.
The woman was pressed against the elevator wall, and the man was leaning into her, kissing her or at least he was until the doors slid open.
She pushed him away instantly.
That wasn’t even the shocking part. The shocking part was the woman.
Dhrithika.
My lips parted.
She looked just as stunned as I felt. She quickly wiped her mouth, flustered. The man, however, didn’t look embarrassed at all. He ran his thumb across his lips and then looked at me slowly from head to toe. The kind of look that made my skin crawl.
Ew.
I don’t even have a word for that kind of look.
Before I could react, he casually stepped out and walked away like nothing had happened.
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to close it.
“Dh-Dhwani… aap yahan?” she asked, avoiding my eyes.
(Dhwani… you here?)
To be honest, at that moment, I had the strongest urge to drag that man back and slap him for the way he looked at me, and for what he had just been doing with her.
But I didn’t because I have no right to say anything, as Dhrithika has her own family and most importantly she is an adult.
I calmly took out my handkerchief from my bag and stepped closer without a word, I wiped the smudged lipstick from the corner of her mouth.
“I should be asking you the same question,” I said quietly. “How are you here?”
She swallowed.
“Actually… I came for…” she hesitated, then straightened. “There’s an international exhibition happening here. I wanted to observe, learn how things work globally. Networking, exposure… you know.”
I stared at her.
“And?” I asked.
She knew exactly what I meant. Her shoulders stiffened slightly.
“And… he’s my boyfriend,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to spend some time with him.”
That’s exactly what I had feared. My instincts are rarely wrong and the moment he looked at me, I knew, there was something off about him.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
“I’m going outside,” I said, stepping out. “You want to join?” She nodded immediately.
I knew she understood. This conversation wasn’t over.
The cab was already waiting outside, as I had asked the hotel staff to arrange it earlier.
We slid inside, and as the car started moving through the streets of Florence, I finally turned toward her.
“Out of all the countries in the world, you chose Italy for ‘observation’? And that too only Florence?” I asked calmly. “Doesn’t that sound weird to you, Dhrithika?”
Her lips parted. “Actually… I wanted to be here with you. So I just came.” That was a terrible lie, because she was definitely here for her disgusting boyfriend.
“Alone?”
She blinked, for a second, her face looked so small, so innocent — you’d never believe she was just pressed against a man in an elevator.
Okay. Let’s not judge. I’m not exactly a saint either.
“I came alone,” she said.
Lie.
Her family would never send her alone.
“Don’t lie.”
She exhaled. “Fine. I came with that robotic PA of Bhaiya.”
I raised my brows. “Ishaan?”
She nodded.
“And where is he?”
“Some business meeting.”
“Did he tell you to walk around alone?” I asked.
She shook her head, looking slightly guilty.
“And who was that man?” I finally asked.
I didn’t want to interfere but the way he looked at me…It was disgusting. I just want her safe.
“He’s my boyfriend,” she replied.
“I’m not asking that,” I said evenly. “I’m asking who exactly he is and how you know him.”
She looked out of the window for a second before turning back.
“He’s… Rohit. Adhvait bhaiya’s business partner’s son. We met in America. I’ve been dating him for six months.”
I exhaled slowly. “Does Adhvait know?”
She nodded. “He knows.”
“And… Yugant?” His name felt unfamiliar on my tongue after months.
As expected, she shook her head.
“Ishaan?” I already knew the answer.
“Why would he know? He’s just Bhaiya’s robotic PA, nothing more.”
The way she said that didn’t sit right with me.
Yes, he’s robotic but that doesn’t mean he deserves disrespect. Also Yugant thinks of him as family.
I didn’t comment on it. She can be incredibly sweet and equally careless.
“I’m calling Ishaan,” I said, unlocking my phone. “He needs to know. He’ll tell Yugant.”
“Dhwani, please don’t.” She snatched my phone from my hand. “I’m not a child. I know what I’m doing.”
“You’re not a child,” I agreed quietly. “But you are innocent.”
Because I couldn’t say dumb. Or worse.
“But I know what’s right and wrong for me,” she insisted. “I’ll tell Bhaiya myself. Don’t interfere in my life.”
That stung. More than I expected but she was right.
I had no right to interfere. She is an adult.
“Okay,” I said finally. “As you wish.”
She relaxed instantly and handed my phone back.
I slid it into my bag and turned my face toward the window.
Florence moved past in soft golden light.
I could only pray that her judgment was better than my instincts were warning me it wasn’t.
After that, we reached a well-known art supply store near Via dei Servi, not far from the Duomo, the kind of place that smells like wood, paint, and possibility.
I stepped inside and instantly felt lighter.
This.
This is my world.
I purchased stretched canvases in different sizes, premium oil and acrylic colors, a fresh set of brushes flat, round, liner palette knives, varnish, charcoal sticks, masking tape, and an extra easel stand because I didn’t want to depend on the exhibition organizers for everything.
I even picked up a new leather-bound sketchbook.
Dhrithika behaved completely normal beside me, commenting on random paint shades, holding the basket, asking whether ultramarine blue is different from cobalt (it is), and pretending like nothing had happened in that elevator.
But something inside me wasn’t sitting right anymore.
It wasn’t anger, judgment or discomfort.
It was a quiet uneasiness.
It’s not like I wanted anything bad for her. I would never interfere if I genuinely believed the man she was with was good.
Like her brother.
Okay. Wrong direction. Push your brain cells back, Dhwani. Let her live her life.
She’s twenty-two. Not a child.
I inhaled deeply and forced myself to let it go.
I paid for the supplies, stepped outside into the Florentine evening light, and shook every unnecessary thought out of my head.
This trip is about me only.
Focus.
After we reached the hotel, I walked her all the way to her room. While a hotel staff member took my shopping bags and canvases toward my room
I didn’t say it out loud, but I needed to see it with my own eyes that she wasn’t staying with that so-called boyfriend of hers.
Aunty behaviour right? But I can't control it.
Thankfully she was alone, I scanned everything with my sharp eyes.
“Good night,” she said with that heartwarming smile.
“Good night,” I replied.
I waited until her door shut completely before turning away.
My room was on the same floor, just a few doors down. Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.
I arranged everything carefully then I rechecked the exhibition schedule twice, the reporting time, the hall number, the orientation mail.
Everything was set for tomorrow.
Still, I checked again. Just to calm myself.
Somehow, while organizing and re-organizing things that were already perfectly fine, time slipped away.
Only when my stomach growled did I realize I hadn’t eaten since the flight.
Great.
I washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face, tied my hair into a loose bun and slipped my phone into my pocket.
The hotel served dinner and breakfast on the rooftop.
I took the stairs this time, I was not in the mood to see another horrifying scene in the elevator.
When the doors opened, a soft breeze hit my face. The rooftop was beautiful.
Warm yellow lights were strung across the open seating area. A glass railing surrounded the edge, and beyond it Florence shimmered under the night sky.
I turned to find a table, my eyes scanned the rooftop and finally found one. I walked toward the corner table and settled into the chair.
I opened the menu and ordered grilled Mediterranean vegetables, truffle mushroom pasta, and for a drink, I chose fresh pomegranate juice with mint and lemon — something healthy, light, and refreshing.
The drink arrived within a few minutes.
I lifted the glass and took a slow sip, letting the cool sweetness settle. Just then, my phone rang. I slipped it out of my pocket.
Bhai.
I answered immediately. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Bhai?”
The call disconnected. I called again, it got connected but beeped. I frowned at the screen. Network issue, maybe.
I stood up holding the glass, planning to call him back somewhere quieter but then I collided with someone.
The entire glass tipped forward.
Red liquid splashed across a crisp white shirt.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, placing my phone and glass hurriedly back on the table.
I grabbed tissues from the holder and stepped closer. “I didn’t see you….I’m really, really sorry…”
I started dabbing at the stain instinctively.
But the juice had soaked through, turning the fabric slightly translucent.
That’s when his very familiar cologne hit me. Slowly, I looked up and my breadth caught in my throat.
“ Yugant….”
??????
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