CHAPTER 36
MARCELLO
We reached Roxanne’s place right on time.
Her house made me feel at home. Not because of sunlight or soft furnishings—but because it breathed warmth.
There was something about the space—inviting, lived-in, unapologetically hers.
Bursts of colour, textures from her travels, small memorabilia tucked into corners.
No show—like the homes you see in magazines. It felt soulful.
The living room curtains danced in the breeze from the terrace. Laughter floated in, light, unfiltered, magnetic. Sahil disappeared with my bags. I followed the laughter.
The terrace was large and sun-drenched. A white swing hung on the right, framed by bougainvillaea.
Two wrought iron benches, on either side of the swing, with blue cushions, formed a cosy seating area.
To the left, a wooden table sat beneath a wide umbrella, flanked by two chairs and a bench.
Frangipani bloomed in the corner, its scent soft and sweet.
The central space was open—perfect for movement and letting the space breathe.
The balcony had numerous plants, placed tastefully, creating a tropical haven.
I stepped closer. Through the dancing curtains, I saw a child licking lemon, scrunching her face, giggling. I stood still. It was like looking at Roxanne—only smaller. Kyra. And for a moment, my heart didn’t know whether to break or heal.
Sahil brushed past me to greet Roxanne’s mum, kissing her on the forehead.
“Hey beautiful, what are you doing?” Sahil asked Kyra.
“Helping Granny make lemonade!” Kyra gleamed, offering him a lemon.
He shook his head and bent down to hug her.
“No hugs!” she said, pouting.
Sahil laughed, exaggerating his heartbreak. She peered from his shoulders and looked towards me, curious.
“Who’s your friend?”
“That’s Uncle Marcello. He’s actually your mum’s friend.”
“I’ve never seen him,” she said, eyes narrowing like a tiny detective.
I chuckled, slowly walking towards them.
“I’m actually from Sicily, Italy.”
Her eyes lit up.
“Italy? My mummy went there. Is that where you met her?”
Hearing ‘mummy’ from her felt like a knife and a bandage all at once.
“Yes. I did.”
“She sent me pictures every day. I don’t remember seeing yours.”
She tilted her head, thinking.
“Maybe the camera didn’t like me.”
She giggled. She had the same smile as Roxanne’s—and I made her smile. I squared my shoulders, feeling a sense of pride, giving Roxanne’s mother a wide smile.
“Why don’t you come next time? I have a niece and nephew who’d love to play catch with you. They have a huge garden and I’m sure you’ll love chasing them.”
“Hmmm. I’ll think about it.”
She spoke like a big girl, hands on her hips, making all of us burst into laughter.
“Uncle M, will you help me build blocks?”
“Absolutely.”
Uncle M. Sweet and damnable. It slipped under my guard faster than it should have. I liked the sound of it.
More brownie points for me.
I was so busy building blocks and buildings with Kyra that I barely noticed Roxanne walk in. She leaned against the balcony door, unreadable, one hand resting on her chest.
Her light blue shirt was half-tucked into denim shorts that clung mid-thigh. Sleeves rolled, buttons parted, revealing a slight cleavage—just enough to tease.
Her skin glowed in the sun, and I wanted to bury my face in the curve of her neck and kiss her senseless. I shook the thought off before it could turn dangerous.
Vihaan walked in, looking at me, eyes narrowed like a blade. Jealousy dripped off him—sticky and loud—while I sat with his daughter playing.
Soon, we all settled for lunch. Kyra was still seated next to me. Roxanne came and sat beside Kyra. Vihaan sat opposite her, Mrs. Talati opposite me and Sahil in between them.
Lunch was simple—Parsi-style prawn curry rice with a tangy spicy salad of onions, tomatoes and coriander, which they called ‘kachumber’ with roasted potatoes and lemonade. I was glad I read up a little on the Parsi culture and cuisine on my flight here.
Vihaan took a sip from Roxanne’s glass.
“Always sweeter from yours,” he said, winking—aimed straight at me.
She rolled her eyes. I’m pretty sure he did that only to get under my skin. I felt like a raging bull—nose flared, breath heavy, ready to charge.
Roxanne turned her attention to Kyra, feeding her in between bites, stealing glances at me.
It felt like time stood still watching her hair fly in the wind, tempting me to tuck that stray strand behind her ear.
Watching how her lips parted with each bite, slow and deliberate.
She licked them once, and I nearly lost my mind.
I clenched my fork hard enough to bend the metal.
I had to force myself to look away—had to stop the animal in my trousers from announcing itself.
“So, what time will you’ll arrive on Wednesday?” Sahil asked.
“We should reach by 12, I guess,” Vihaan answered.
“I’ll see you’ll on Thursday morning. Wednesday, the insurance guys are coming. Also, the office is still operational.”
“Why do you want to come by yourself?” Sahil asked.
“I’ll give her company. I have a meeting with a startup I’m investing in on Wednesday, so I can travel with her.” I interrupted.
“Wouldn’t you love that?” Vihaan muttered—just loud enough to be heard.
I scowled at him, and Roxanne kicked him from under the table. It was nice to see my girl taking my side.
“Fine then. You guys come on Wednesday. Roxy and Marcello, you’ll join the party on Thursday. And yeah, Marcello, get something Indian to wear for the wedding ceremony.” Sahil concluded.
“I’ll help with that.” Roxanne’s mum chimed in while clearing the table.
Roxanne hugged Sahil goodbye, and Vihaan went to see him off. Before I knew it, Kyra had fallen asleep on my lap. Roxanne moved to pick her up.
“I’ve got her,” I said.
I lifted her gently and followed Roxanne to the room Kyra was sharing with Mrs. Talati. We tucked her in together—me smoothing her hair, Roxanne adjusting the blanket and kissing her forehead.
I stood behind her. She straightened and bumped into me. I caught her waist, slowly pulled her close, burying my nose in the curve of her neck, breathing her in.
Electricity surged violently through me. God, I missed her. Her breath hitched, burning quick and shallow. I felt her body stiffen and heat up. Her fingers curled into my shirt like she didn’t know whether to push or hold.
I wanted that moment to last, to hold her, to kiss her. I leaned in, forehead to hers. Her sweet scent wrapped around me, utterly intoxicating and in that moment, for one impossible second, the world fell away.
She turned away. “I think we should let her sleep.”
Her voice came out almost as a gasp. I still affected her. If not her mind yet, at least her body responded to me. I adjusted myself and followed—didn’t need her mother cataloguing my erection like evidence. That would’ve been one awkward situation.
Vihaan returned and was standing on the terrace looking into the distance. I sat back on the bench at the table.
Vihaan turned towards me and spoke,
“So—where in Italy are you from?”
“Sicily,” I replied dryly.
“Must be nice, surrounded by art, wine, and beautiful women.”
“It has its charm. Though I’ve found the women from here far more… challenging.”
“Challenging? Or just harder to impress?” he said, smirking.
I didn’t bother answering him.
“Roxanne’s always had a thing for complicated men. You must’ve seemed exotic enough to qualify.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth.
“Funny. I thought she liked men who gave some meaning to her life, not just those who took up space.”
I could see Vihaan’s smile fade as he stepped towards me.
“You lured her away with your charm, your accent, your lifestyle. She fell for the fantasy.”
“I didn’t lure her. She wasn’t yours then; she isn’t yours now.” I stood up, almost flipping the chair I was sitting on.
“She chose to walk away. And you didn’t even notice.”
“You think the two of you will work out eventually. No, my friend. You’re wrong. She has a void no man can fill. Least of all you. Soon she’ll come to her senses, realising that all you’ll do is cause her more pain.”
“You think she prefers silence? I’d rather be the storm that rips the silence apart and tries to fill her void.”
We were inches apart. My fists had already balled, ready to swing at his clenched jaw. He was lucky Roxanne stepped in.
“Enough. I’m not hosting a dick-measuring contest that ends in a sword fight.”
I smirked at Roxanne’s comment. Roxanne placed her hand on Vihaan’s shoulder and said softly.
“Vihaan, I think you should leave. You need to cool off.”
“Oh. So you’re already taking his side now. Has he already moved in? Or are you just done pretending you haven’t slept with him?”
Roxanne took a deep breath and said, “Please don’t make a scene. He’s just a guest.”
Vihaan looked at her, disappointed, and walked away. His silence was louder than anything he could’ve said.
I wanted to hold Roxanne. To tell her it wasn’t her fault. That everything would be fine. That I would swallow whatever storm came for her. But I held back and I gave her the space she needed.
Because some apologies arrive naked; some need patient, quieter work. And I would wait—even if it carved me open.