Vihaan's POV:
It was early morning when I decided to call Ama to make sure she was up. I unlocked my phone, and before dialing, my eyes landed on a notification — a new message from her.
I clicked on it, half-smiling, only for my brows to shoot up.
"Pervert."
"Pervert? Me?" I said out loud, pointing a finger at myself like the most confused man alive.
Then I shook my head, smirking. "No, no… maybe she sent it to someone else."
Still amused, I went to my caller list and hit her number.
After a few rings, she finally picked up. Her voice — low, sleepy, and adorably hoarse — told me I'd just dragged her out of dreamland.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," I said, my tone soft but teasing.
She didn't respond, only a lazy sigh.
I chuckled quietly, imagining her buried under her blanket, hair in disarray, still half dreaming. "Don't tell me you're still in bed, Ama. You do remember we have a flight in—" he checked his watch, "two hours?"
A faint groan came from the other end.
"Five more minutes," she muttered.
"Five minutes, I can allow," I said with a grin, leaning back against the car. "But if you're not ready after that, I'm coming in with cold water."
That earned me a sleepy, muffled laugh — the kind that always made his chest feel too full.
"Fine, fine, Mr. not-so-peaceloving and way-too-morning person," she grumbled. "Already awake."
I laughed. "Good. Now get ready — I can't wait to see my girlfriend one last time."
There was a pause. Then her sleepy tone sharpened just a bit."What do you mean one last time?"
My eyes widened. "Wait—no! Not like that!" I said quickly, running a hand through my hair. "I meant… after this trip, you won't be my girlfriend anymore."
"Uh-huh," she said, clearly enjoying my panic.
"Because you'll be my wife," I added, fast and desperate, trying to fix it. "In that way. Not—uh—any other way around."
There was silence for a second, and then a burst of laughter.
"Oh God, Vihaan," she said between laughs. "You really need to work on your phrasing."
"I was romantic in my head," I muttered, grinning despite myself. "It just didn't translate well out loud."
"Clearly," she teased. "Now let me get ready before you accidentally propose again over the phone."
After a few hurried steps — walking inside, then outside again — Eric finally managed to drag his mountain of suitcases to the car.
When I asked what on earth he had packed this time, he just shrugged with a grin."It's something private. I'll only show Divya," he said, sliding into the backseat like it was some state secret.
By the time we reached Ama's house, the place was buzzing. Her mom was everywhere — multitasking between breakfast trays and last-minute lists like a one-woman army.
"Good morning, everyone," I called out as I stepped in, dodging two overflowing suitcases that had lost the will to stay shut.
Jia appeared on the stairs, wrestling with one more suitcase and muttering something under her breath."Let me take it," I said, reaching for it.
"Aww, thanks," she said sweetly, then walked off with exaggerated grace, clearly proud of her 'damsel in distress' act.
And then — she came out of the library.Ama.
The chaos around me blurred for a second. Just her, standing there, sunlight spilling over her face. That smile — the one that always made my chest feel lighter — it was right there… until I saw him.
Albert.
The air shifted. My jaw clenched before I could stop it. She quickly explained that he wanted to come, and though I nodded, I couldn't bring myself to share her calmness.
I'd seen her forgive before. But this?I still couldn't find the edge of her forgiveness.
"Should we go?" I asked, just as Adrian appeared in the doorway.
Jia walked toward me, one hand dramatically resting on my shoulder. "I'll go with my brother-in-law," she said, smiling sweetly. "Find yourself another travel companion, Romeo."
"Fine," Adrian said, rolling his eyes and pulling a cartoonish face that sent Jia into giggles.
The drive to the airport was lively chaos — luggage, passports, last-minute jokes, and Adrian trying to sneak snacks past security. But soon, everything calmed as we boarded the plane.
First class was quiet, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of coffee and leather. I'd made sure Ama's seat was beside mine. She settled in by the window, her hair brushing lightly against my shoulder.
I leaned a little closer, a teasing smile playing on my lips."So," I said softly, "why did you call me a pervert?"
Ama turned her head, clearly not expecting that to be my first line mid-flight. Her eyes widened for a second, then narrowed playfully."You checked your messages early morning, didn't you?"
"Of course. You texted me one word that could ruin my reputation," I said in mock seriousness. "Pervert? Really?"
She laughed under her breath, turning slightly toward me. "You did something — that's why."
I leaned back in my seat, pretending to sigh in relief. "Good. I was just about to call my lawyer — and maybe my therapist."
She swatted my arm, trying not to laugh too loudly, and I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. The plane hummed softly around us — calm lighting, the low murmur of attendants, and the faint aroma of roasted coffee drifting through first class.
"But really," I asked, tilting my head a little, "was it just your mood swings, or was there a reason for it?"
She folded her arms, trying to look stern but failing miserably under my gaze. "I have my reasons, and I won't tell you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Ah, mysterious silence. Dangerous move for someone sitting beside a lawyer."
Her lips twitched. "Even your cross-examination skills won't work here."
"Challenge accepted," I murmured, leaning in just enough that she looked away, hiding her smile.
Outside the window, the clouds rolled by like soft waves, but between us, the air hummed with that quiet familiarity — part teasing, part affection, and completely ours.
I let the silence linger, watching her try — and fail — to hide that mischievous glint in her eyes.
"You know," I said, leaning a little closer, "the more you stay quiet, the more guilty you look."
She tried to hold her composure, lips twitching. "And you know," she countered, "the more you talk, the more suspicious you sound."
"Touché," I murmured, smiling. "But tell me, what exactly did I do this time? Stole your blanket? Blinked too attractively?"
She rolled her eyes. "You wish."
I tilted my head. "Then why 'pervert'? Come on, enlighten me before I file a defamation case."
That did it — she laughed, quietly but with that musical edge that always melted me. Then, biting her lip, she finally confessed, "Maybe because someone was caught staring at me in a picture."
I straightened slightly, amused. "A picture?"
"Yes," she said, crossing her arms like she was suddenly on trial. "The one from your office… the day we first met. Jia gave it to me."
My brows lifted. "That one?"
She nodded, eyes darting down. "You were looking at me in it — not like a boss, not like a stranger… like you already knew something I didn't."
For a second, I forgot to breathe. That day — her walking into my office for the first time, her voice, her calm nervousness — it was still imprinted in me.
"I did," I said softly.
She turned toward me, curious. "What do you mean?"
I smiled faintly, the kind that reached my eyes. "I knew… I'd end up looking at you for the rest of my life."
Her lips parted, the air between us suddenly warmer, thicker. The cabin light above us dimmed just enough to make the gold in her eyes shimmer.
"That's a line," she whispered, trying to sound unimpressed, though her cheeks betrayed her.
I leaned a little closer, lowering my voice. "No. That's a confession."
She blinked, caught between laughter and something deeper. "You're impossible."
"And you," I said, brushing my thumb gently over her knuckles, "are exactly why I am."
Her lips curved slowly, playfully. "So, pervert and poet?"
I grinned. "Only for you, Miss Salvatore."
Her smile softened, eyes lingering on mine. "You do realise that if I fall for that line again, you'll have to take responsibility?"
"Already planning to," I said, leaning back with that calm, knowing smile — the same one from that photo years ago.