> Drishti Nayak is 20 - chubby, quiet, and sweet to the bone.
A girl who lives in oversized sweaters, always on Wattpad, and fantasies of mafia kings who kill for love.
She never expected one to walk out of her imagination and into her life.
> Massi...
Sunlight spilled aggressively through tall windows. Staff moved at double speed. Voices echoed down hallways. Garment bags swung from arms. Someone argued about flowers. Someone else yelled about breakfast trays.
Chaos — the good kind.
Drishti stood in the middle of her bedroom, barefoot, hair half-pinned, robe loosely tied, staring at the madness with wide eyes.
“Why is everyone running like the building is on fire?” she demanded.
A stylist answered without looking up. “Because weddings are emotional disasters wrapped in silk.”
From the hallway, Luca’s voice rang out. “WHO DRANK MY COFFEE?”
A guard replied nervously, “Sir, you drank it.”
“THAT WAS YESTERDAY’S COFFEE.”
Massimo walked in, sleeves rolled, calm as a storm waiting to happen. He glanced at Drishti, eyes softening instantly.
“Breathe,” he murmured. “Everything is on schedule.”
She pointed outside. “That is not ‘on schedule.’ That is panic with a budget.”
Before he could reply, another guard appeared. “Capo. Guests have started arriving.”
Drishti’s heart jumped.
“Already?”
Massimo nodded. “Your family just entered the driveway.”
Everything inside her stilled.
---
THE DRIVEWAY
Luxury cars lined up one after another. Doors opened. Voices blended — laughter, excitement, awe at the sheer scale of the Ricci estate.
One particular car stopped at the center.
Luca, who had been standing casually with his hands in his pockets, glanced over—
And froze.
The door opened.
Khushi stepped out.
And for a second, the world slowed.
She wasn’t in jeans. She wasn’t in sneakers. She wasn’t the tomboy who climbed trees and laughed too loudly.
She wore traditional attire — soft fabric flowing around her, bangles chiming faintly, hair styled neatly, face glowing with nervous excitement.
She took one step forward.
Her foot caught.
The stumble was small — barely a second.
But Luca reacted on instinct.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his other arm steadying her waist before she could fall.
They froze.
Too close.
Her breath hitched. His grip tightened slightly.
Slowly, she looked up.
And Luca looked down.
After years of video calls. After missed moments. After memories that lived only on screens.
Their eyes locked.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Recognition. Surprise. And something dangerously close to oh.
“You okay?” Luca asked softly, his usual chaos gone.
Khushi swallowed. “Y–yeah.”
Neither of them moved.
Her bangles brushed his wrist. His thumb rested against her skin.
Then—
Ahem.
Massimo cleared his throat loudly.
Very deliberately.
The spell broke.
Luca stepped back instantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—yeah—watch your step.”
Khushi nodded quickly, cheeks warm. “Thanks.”
Massimo walked forward, composed, authoritative, eyes briefly flicking to Luca in warning before turning toward Drishti’s family.
“Welcome,” he said formally. “You’re safe here. Please—come inside.”
Drishti rushed forward next, hugging her mother tightly, her siblings crowding around her, laughter and emotion colliding all at once.
As the family was guided inside, Luca glanced back once.
Khushi was still standing there.
She looked at him.
Just for a second.
Then she smiled.
And Luca — the man who faced guns without blinking — forgot how to breathe.
---
Inside the mansion, the chaos continued.
But somewhere between laughter, footsteps, and wedding preparations—
Two hearts had just remembered each other.
And nothing felt accidental anymore.
--- To be continued.....
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