Another day unfolded before Shagun, though technically, she had not even made it to her bed.

She woke with a stiff neck, her cheek pressed against the back of the chair and her laptop still glowing faintly in front of her. For a few seconds, she had no idea where she was. Then the half-edited reel on her screen came back to her, followed by the stack of books beside her, and she remembered exactly how she had spent the night.

Editing reels had taken longer than she expected. Once she had finally finished, there had been an exam to prepare for, and since she had never been good at convincing herself that average was enough, she had continued studying until the words in her textbook began to blur together.

She had always been like that.

If she excelled in one subject, she expected herself to excel in the next. If she scored well once, she was terrified of performing poorly the next time. It wasn't ambition alone. Somewhere along the way, excellence had become her safety net. As long as she was doing well, nobody could call her incapable.

She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the time.

Too early.

She sighed.

There was no holiday.

And today, of all days.

Ganesh Chaturthi.

Back in India, the streets would already be alive with decorations, music, flowers, sweets, and the familiar chants that had been part of her childhood for as long as she could remember. Here, thousands of kilometres away, the day felt strangely ordinary.

That was the part she hated most about living away from home.

The world continued as though nothing special was happening.

But to Shagun, it was special.

She had always been a devotee of Ganpati Bappa and Shivji. Every year during Sawan, she tried her best to keep her fasts, no matter how busy her schedule became. Whenever life became unbearable, whenever she had nobody she felt safe enough to talk to, she would sit in front of her little idol and tell him everything.

Sometimes she prayed.

Sometimes she complained.

Sometimes she cried so hard that her prayers turned into nothing more than broken breaths.

But she never stopped believing.

Perhaps that was the strangest thing about her faith. Life had given her enough reasons to question everything, yet somehow she had never questioned Him.

She could doubt herself.

She could doubt people.

She could doubt love.

But never her Bappa.

Because somewhere inside her heart, Shagun believed that no matter how cruel life became, Ganpati Bappa would still be standing beside her.

Even when she couldn't see Him.

She finally forced herself out of the chair and walked toward the bathroom.

The cold water immediately woke her up.

She washed her hair thoroughly, working the fragrant shampoo through her wavy strands until the entire bathroom smelled sweet and clean. After showering, she stood in front of the mirror for a moment, studying her sleepy reflection.

Today, she wanted to feel good.

Not for anyone else.

Just for herself.

She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a yellow anarkali suit.

The colour instantly brightened her face.

She slipped into it carefully, adjusted the dupatta around her shoulders, and reached for a soft pink lipstick. A small bindi found its place between her eyebrows, followed by a pair of large jhumkas that brushed gently against her neck whenever she moved.

A few oxidised bangles completed the look.

She stared at herself in the mirror.

For a moment, she looked less like the exhausted student who had fallen asleep over her laptop and more like the girl she remembered from home.

Indian.

Soft.

Familiar.

She smiled.

Her hair was still damp, so she left it loose and allowed her waves to dry naturally. A little serum tamed the strands without taking away their natural shape.

Then she walked toward the small wooden shelf beside her bed.

There was only one idol placed there.

Ganesh ji.

In front of Him sat a tiny diya.

Shagun struck a match and watched the flame come alive.

She folded her hands.

For a few seconds, she said nothing.

She simply stood there.

Then, quietly, she began to pray.

She asked for good health.

For her parents to remain safe.

For enough money to keep managing her life without burdening anyone.

For good marks.

For strength.

And, as always, she asked for peace.

The kind she had been searching for without knowing how to find it.

Her eyes remained closed.

"Bas mere saath rehna, Bappa." [Just stay with me, Bappa.]

That was all.

She opened her eyes and smiled faintly at the idol before touching her fingers to her forehead.

"Chal, Shagun."

She said it to herself.

"Late ho jayegi."

The rest of the morning disappeared quickly.

She cooked her lunch herself, packed it into a small container, checked her bag twice, made sure she had her charger, notebook, wallet and headphones, and finally stepped out of her apartment.

The moment she stepped onto the street, she noticed the looks.

Not uncomfortable ones.

Curious ones.

Her yellow anarkali moved gently around her legs as she walked, the fabric catching the morning breeze. Her jhumkas swayed with every step, and the bangles on her wrist made the softest sound whenever she adjusted her bag.

Italy had never really taught her to feel embarrassed about being Indian.

If anything, people here seemed fascinated by it.

A girl walking in the opposite direction slowed down.

"Your dress is beautiful."

Shagun's face immediately lit up.

"Thank you."

Another woman complimented her earrings.

Then another smiled at her bindi.

By the time she reached the university, she had received enough compliments to make her forget that she had woken up with a terrible crick in her neck.

She smiled throughout the walk.

For once, she wasn't thinking about marks.

Or money.

Or assignments.

Or the distance between India and Italy.

She was simply happy.

Inside the university, she found an empty corridor before her class began. She looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention, then placed her phone against a distant ledge and opened her camera.

She stepped back.

Adjusted her dupatta.

Turned slightly.

Smiled.

And recorded.

A quick outfit check.

She watched it once.

Then twice.

"Okay."

She nodded approvingly.

"That's actually cute."

She saved it and hurried into class.

The day passed almost effortlessly.

Lectures.

Notes.

Lunch.

A few jokes with classmates.

A quick video here.

A photograph there.

A small clip of her coffee.

Another of the university courtyard.

She had slowly become the kind of person who recorded pieces of her life without even thinking about it.

People sometimes assumed she did it because she wanted attention.

She didn't.

Not really.

Content creation was work.

Nothing more.

Her parents weren't wealthy enough to casually fund an expensive life in Italy, and Shagun had never wanted to make them feel as though her dreams had become their financial burden.

So she worked.

She studied.

She created content.

She took whatever small opportunities came her way.

Every payment meant one less expense her parents had to worry about.

Every sponsored reel meant she could pay for something herself.

And now that she had a part-time job as well, she could manage most of her daily expenses without calling home every time she needed something.

It wasn't glamorous.

Sometimes it was exhausting.

Sometimes she wondered how long she could keep balancing everything.

But she was proud of herself.

Because for the first time in her life, she wasn't waiting for someone else to rescue her.

She was building a life with her own hands.

And on this particular day, despite the assignments waiting for her and the exhaustion sitting heavily behind her eyes, Shagun felt strangely content.

She had dressed up for Ganpati.

She had prayed.

She had attended her classes.

She had earned a little money.

She had smiled more than usual.

It was a good day.

A very ordinary one.

And perhaps that was why she would remember it later.

Because she had no idea that somewhere between one ordinary Tuesday and another, someone had already begun noticing her.

Someone who would eventually become the most extraordinary part of her life.

MORETTI MANSION

At the Moretti mansion, the quiet morning was anything but quiet. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the spacious hallway as Elian chased his younger brother around the house, both of them behaving more like children than grown men. Their mother was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone, apparently accustomed to the chaos her sons could create before the day had even properly begun.

"STOP IT, MATTEO!" Elian yelled, running after him.

"LEAVE IT! IT'S JUST A SHIRT, MR. ELIAN MORETTI!" Matteo shouted back, clutching the shirt tightly against his chest as he ran for his life.

"THAT WAS GIVEN TO ME BY DAD!"

"I KNOW! AND I'M JUST BORROWING IT!"

"WITHOUT ASKING!"

Matteo only laughed and ran faster, turning around the corner of the hallway while Elian followed him with every intention of retrieving what was rightfully his. They were halfway through another round of their childish chase when a deep, commanding voice suddenly cut through the noise.

"SHUT UP, YOU BOTH!"

Both brothers froze instantly.

Elian stopped in his tracks, his expression changing the moment he saw his father standing at the end of the hallway. Matteo's playful grin disappeared too, and the shirt he had been clutching suddenly seemed much less important than the consequences of ignoring their father's voice.

"Dad," Elian whispered.

Lorenzo Moretti looked between his two sons with an expression that needed no further explanation. He didn't raise his voice again. He didn't have to.

"Give his shirt back, Matteo."

Matteo sighed dramatically before walking toward his brother and extending the shirt.

"Fine."

Elian took it from him with a victorious smirk, raising one eyebrow as though he had won a battle of great importance. He knew his father's voice would work eventually.

"Happy now?" Matteo muttered.

"Very."

"Children," Lorenzo murmured, shaking his head before turning away.

Before either of the brothers could start arguing again, a much softer voice came from the kitchen.

"Enzoo... baby, come here. I need your help."

Lorenzo turned instantly.

The stern father who had just silenced two grown men with a single command disappeared almost immediately, replaced by the affectionate husband who could never resist his wife's voice.

"Yes, my love. You need anything?"

Sofia was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a rich co-ord set with her hair tied back with a bandana, a few soft waves falling naturally around her face. She was stirring something in a pan when she pointed toward the upper cabinet.

"I need the cinnamon powder, and I can't reach the shelf by myself."

Lorenzo followed her gesture and easily reached the cabinet, taking out the bottle and placing it carefully on the kitchen counter beside her.

"Here you go."

"Thank you."

He could have walked away then.

Instead, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her small waist from behind. Sofia immediately smiled as his chin rested gently against the top of her head.

"You look so pretty, my love," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against her shoulder.

Sofia chuckled, continuing to stir the food in front of her. "Stop romancing in the kitchen, at least."

Lorenzo only smiled. His arms tightened slightly around her waist as he turned her toward him, making her look up at him with a surprised expression that quickly softened into a smile.

"I love you, Sofi," he whispered, his voice losing all traces of the commanding tone he had used with his sons moments earlier.

"I love you too, darling," she breathed, teasing him with the sweetness in her voice.

He didn't waste another second before closing the distance between them and kissing her. Sofia's arms naturally slipped around his neck, pulling him closer, while Lorenzo carefully cupped her jaw. The affection between them was effortless, familiar and practiced in the way of two people who had loved each other for years and had never allowed life to make that love feel ordinary.

When they finally parted, Sofia was slightly breathless. Lorenzo gave her one last soft peck before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"The boys must be waiting for breakfast," Sofia said with a smile, gently trying to excuse herself.

"Nope, Mom."

Matteo's teasing voice came from the kitchen island.

Sofia's eyes widened.

"We're enjoying the show."

Both brothers were sitting at the counter, their faces resting in their hands as they watched their parents. Elian had settled into the exact same position as Matteo, silently admiring the affection between his parents with an amused smile.

Sofia immediately blushed and hid her face against her husband's chest while Lorenzo chuckled, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Why were you watching?" she whined, refusing to lift her head.

"Because we have the right," Elian said with a laugh.

"We have a shameless father," Matteo added.

Lorenzo looked toward him.

"And that statement earns you a slap."

"Dad!" Matteo whined.

"Shut up now and have breakfast," Sofia said, finally pulling herself away from Lorenzo and beginning to serve food onto their plates.

Elian looked at Matteo and shook his head.

"Our parents don't fail to make us feel single."

"Indeed," Matteo agreed solemnly.

Lorenzo sat down and began applying butter to a piece of toast for his wife. "Then wife a girl up."

Matteo rolled his eyes. "It's not that easy."

"You need to work hard for a girl," Sofia added with a knowing nod.

Matteo looked at his mother as though she had just made the situation considerably more complicated.

Elian laughed quietly before reaching for his breakfast.

The teasing continued for a while, filling the mansion with the kind of warmth that could never be bought with money. Despite the size of the house and the wealth surrounding the family, the Morettis had never allowed their home to become cold or distant. Their family was loud, affectionate and occasionally ridiculous, but there was comfort in it.

After breakfast, Elian checked the time and glanced toward his parents.

"Mom, I might come late tonight. Don't wait for dinner."

Lorenzo looked up immediately. "Why?"

"Nothing. I just want some time out of work." Elian picked up his toast and took a bite. "It's been a long week."

Sofia studied his face carefully.

"Eli, are you okay?"

Elian looked at her and gave her a reassuring smile. "Mum, I'm fine. I just need some fresh air after a long week. It's been a lot."

Sofia nodded, accepting the answer even though the concern in her eyes remained.

"It's good to take some time for yourself," she said gently.

Lorenzo, however, was already thinking about something else.

"But don't you dare go anywhere without security."

Elian sighed with an amused smile.

"Yes, Dad. I will."

His father gave him one final look to make sure he was serious, and only then did Elian leave.

The rest of his day disappeared into work.

Meetings followed meetings, phone calls blended into discussions, and one decision after another demanded his attention. Being successful had never meant that the work became easier. If anything, the more responsibility he carried, the more people expected from him. He handled it all with the same composed smile he had learned to wear over the years, even when exhaustion sat heavily behind his eyes.

Yet home had always been different.

His family gave him as much space as he needed. They were concerned about him, but they never made their concern feel suffocating. Elian was never pressured to come home at a particular time simply because he was their son. Nobody demanded that he eat every meal with them or explain every hour he spent outside the house. If he wanted to be alone, they let him be alone. If he needed them, they were there.

That freedom was one of the reasons he loved them so deeply.

By evening, however, he realised he genuinely didn't know where to go.

He didn't want another office.

He didn't want another formal dinner.

He didn't want to sit at home and answer questions about his day.

He simply wanted somewhere quiet.

Somewhere he could breathe.

Then he remembered the café.

It belonged to the woman who had once taken care of him when he was a child, someone he had remained emotionally attached to even after growing up. He still visited her regularly, usually once a month, simply because some bonds were never measured by blood.

He glanced at the time.

It was almost seven.

A small smile appeared on his face.

He picked up his jacket and left.

He didn't know that the café would soon become the place he visited for an entirely different reason.

Shagun was pouring hot coffee into a white ceramic cup when the bell above the café door jingled. She carefully placed a freshly baked croissant onto a small plate, arranged both items onto a tray, and carried the order gracefully toward one of the occupied tables. She had barely returned behind the counter when someone walked into the café with heavy footsteps. Elian entered without much thought, his attention immediately drawn toward the large windows overlooking the evening sky. He chose his usual seat near the window, leaning back as he watched the fading colours outside.

A waitress approached him wearing the familiar Café Aurum apron and politely asked for his order. Elian barely glanced at the menu before ordering cheesy fries, mac and cheese, and a cold dark chocolate shake. She smiled, noted everything down and walked away. A few minutes later, the same girl returned carrying his order. Elian thanked her, and for a while, he simply ate in peace, allowing himself to enjoy the food without thinking about work, meetings or everything waiting for him outside those walls.

He waited until Aren finally noticed him.

Aren had only just arrived at the café when her eyes immediately found him sitting by the window, eating the same kind of food she remembered him loving as a teenager. A smile spread across her face as she walked toward him and took the seat opposite him.

"That's what you eat as a growing boy?" she teased.

Elian looked up at her with a grin, his cheeks slightly full as he continued chewing like the boy she remembered.

"I am in love with this," he said after swallowing, reaching for his dark chocolate shake. "This is exactly what I needed this month."

Aren nodded knowingly. "Hmm-hmm. It's made by Shagun, so it's obvious it'll be yummy."

Elian chuckled and glanced toward the counter. "I guess you're too attached to this girl."

Aren's expression softened immediately. "She's sweet. The shine in her eyes makes everyone around her feel energetic. She gives something to this place that I can't really explain." She looked around the café with a fond smile. "The seats have been full for the past two months. She's worked so hard, even helping me plan new dishes and bringing new ideas to the café."

"So now you got a daughter too, huh?" Elian asked, pretending to sound offended.

Aren reached across the table and held his hand. "You'll always be my baby, Elian."

Her voice softened as she continued, "You know, you and Matteo never made me feel as though I didn't have children. You both gave me more love than I could ever ask for. But this girl..." She glanced toward the counter, her eyes beginning to glisten with emotion. "This girl has a special place in my heart. She's never made me feel like I don't have a daughter."

Elian followed her gaze without thinking.

And then he saw her.

Shagun was standing near the kitchen counter, finally taking off her apron after finishing her shift. She reached behind her neck and carefully loosened the clasp before allowing the apron to slide down from her shoulders. Beneath it was the yellow anarkali she had worn that morning for Ganesh Chaturthi, the colour looking even warmer beneath the soft golden lights of the café. Her dupatta rested loosely around her, and her large earrings caught the light every time she moved.

She reached up and pulled the claw clip from her hair.

Her waves immediately fell around her shoulders.

She shook her head lightly, freeing the remaining strands before running her fingers through them and adjusting them into place. Then she checked her earrings, straightened the bindi sitting perfectly above the bridge of her nose and carefully fixed her dupatta before reaching for her bag.

Elian stopped moving.

The straw of his chocolate shake remained between his fingers, forgotten.

He had seen her before.

Of course he had.

He had noticed her behind the counter, carrying trays between tables, speaking to customers, laughing with Aren and moving through the café with a quiet confidence. He had noticed the way she smiled. He had noticed her voice. He had even noticed how the atmosphere of the café seemed different whenever she was there.

But this was different.

He couldn't explain why.

Perhaps it was the yellow of her dress against the warm café lights. Perhaps it was the way her hair fell naturally around her face after being tied up all day. Perhaps it was the tiny bindi that made her look unmistakably Indian despite being so far away from home. Or perhaps it was simply the way she carried herself without having any idea that someone was watching.

She wasn't trying to be beautiful.

That was what caught him.

There was no performance in her movements. She wasn't checking whether anyone was looking at her. She wasn't seeking attention. She simply existed in her own little world, adjusting her earrings, fixing her dupatta and preparing to leave after another long day.

And somehow, that was enough to make Elian forget everything else.

His gaze followed her without permission.

Every little movement seemed to settle somewhere in his mind. The soft smile that appeared on her lips when she found her bag. The way her bangles shifted against her wrist. The slight tilt of her head as she adjusted the edge of her dupatta. Even the way she tucked one loose strand of hair behind her ear felt strangely significant.

He had spent years convincing himself that he understood attraction.

He had met beautiful women before.

He had been admired, pursued and approached more times than he could remember. Beauty had never been something that could hold his attention for long.

But this wasn't simply beauty.

There was something about her that made him want to know her.

Who was she?

What did she think about when she was alone?

Why did her eyes always seem brighter than everyone else's?

Why did she look like she carried an entire world inside her and yet still found reasons to smile?

For the first time in a very long time, Elian wasn't looking at a woman and thinking about what he could say to impress her.

He was simply watching.

And somewhere in that quiet moment, something inside him shifted.

He didn't know her.

He didn't know her favourite colour, her favourite food, the music she listened to, what made her laugh or what made her cry. He didn't know the dreams she had carried across countries or the battles she had fought before arriving here.

Yet suddenly, he wanted to know all of it.

His eyes remained fixed on her until Aren's voice brought him back.

"Elian?"

He blinked.

"Yeah?"

Aren smiled knowingly, though she didn't say anything.

Shagun had already picked up her bag and was walking toward them.

She stopped beside Aren and bent down slightly, greeting her with affection. Aren immediately leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, smiling at her as though she were genuinely family.

"see you tomorrow, Aunty," Shagun said softly. "Don't worry much"

"I won't," Aren assured her.

Shagun smiled before turning toward the door.

Elian watched her leave.

"I'll come in some time too," he said almost absentmindedly.

Aren looked at him.

But he was already standing.

He followed Shagun outside.

The moment he stepped onto the street, he saw her a little distance ahead of him. She had already put her earphones in, her bag resting on one shoulder as she walked down the pavement. Her yellow anarkali moved gently with every step, and there was a small smile on her face as though whatever she was listening to had managed to make her forget the exhaustion of the day.

Elian slowed down.

He didn't know why he was following her.

He only knew that he didn't want her to disappear yet.

He walked behind her, keeping enough distance that she wouldn't notice him. He watched the way she walked, the way she occasionally adjusted her bag and the way her smile remained even though she was probably just as tired as he was.

Something strange happened to him then.

He had come to the café because he needed peace.

He had walked through those doors carrying the weight of an exhausting week, hoping that Aren's company and familiar food would make his head feel lighter.

And somehow, without doing anything at all, this girl had made that happen.

He had come looking for peace.

And now he was following his peace.

He didn't even realise how far he had walked until Shagun stopped in front of a building.

She entered through the gate, walked inside and disappeared from his sight.

Elian stopped outside.

For several seconds, he simply stood there.

He stared at the entrance as though his mind had forgotten what he was supposed to do next.

Then reality caught up with him.

Why did you follow her?

His brows furrowed.

Who was she?

He ran a hand through his silky hair, looking genuinely confused with himself.

Why did you do that, Elian?

His expression tightened.

You were being a creep.

He looked toward the building again.

What made you do that?

He shook his head.

Stop it.

His thoughts became louder.

Are you crazy?

And then came the question he didn't want to entertain.

Don't tell me you like her.

He stared at the building for another moment.

Or worse... don't tell me you love her.

The thought itself seemed ridiculous.

He didn't even know her.

How could he possibly love her?

Still, something in his chest refused to settle.

"Boss."

The voice behind him finally broke through his thoughts.

Elian turned around.

"Huh... huh?"

The man standing behind him looked slightly confused by his boss's expression.

"Aunty is calling you inside."

Elian blinked before finally nodding.

"Right."

He ran a hand through his hair once more and walked back toward the café, still trying to understand what had just happened to him.

When he entered, Aren was standing from her chair.

"Where were you, Elian?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, taking his seat again. He glanced toward the food still waiting for him. "I'll eat this and leave."

Aren nodded, hiding the knowing smile that had begun to form on her face. She picked up the serving dish and placed more food onto his plate.

Elian looked down at it, then toward the café door.

For the first time, the familiar place didn't feel quite as familiar anymore.

Because somewhere outside those doors was a girl he didn't know.

And somehow, he already knew he would be back.

_________________________________________________________________________________________
SPOILER ALERT ~ HIM REALISING THIS IS CALLED LOVE , AND STALKING HER 

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