PRESENT- ADHIRA'S POV

For the next two hours, I kept to the background, mingling just enough to be polite. I spoke to a few of Bhai's business associates and some of Kiara and Alana's friends. Though, honestly, I couldn't stand Alana's friend group. Alana herself is a sweetheart — no doubt about that. Coming from a middle-class background, she built such a solid career that now everyone envies her. But her so-called friends? Always judging, always gossiping about other people's looks.

After a few polite exchanges, I excused myself. But before I could get far, I heard their voices again — those same girls who had just been smiling at me and making plans for brunch this weekend.

"She has scars on her back. Did you see that small, ugly one? Uff, who would even like her?" one sneered.

Instinctively, my fingers tightened the scarf around my shoulders, shielding my back from their prying eyes.

"The only reason she's even here is because of her brother. God, he's so hot — the nerd one," another giggled.

I turned away sharply. I didn't need to hear them drooling over Atharva like that. Disgust crawled under my skin.

Lifting my gaze, I scanned the hall — and my eyes collided with his. Lorenzo. My brother's best friend. His light green eyes, so pale they could pass for grey in dim light, locked with mine. This was the eighth time in an hour our gazes had met.

I knew him from photos — Alana once showed me pictures from his birthday party on Instagram. But seeing him here, in this golden-lit room, was something else entirely.

Flustered, I made my way to Ahaan Bhai, who was deep in conversation with Mr. Rathore. As I approached, they both paused and welcomed me in.

"Ah, Adhira, meet my wife, Mrs. Rathore," Mr. Rathore smiled warmly.

Mrs. Rathore, elegant in a deep maroon saree, beamed at me. "I've heard so much about you, dear. Your brother is very proud of you."

"Thank you, Ma'am. That's kind of you to say," I replied softly, trying to keep my focus on the conversation.

But even then, I felt those judging eyes from across the hall, their whispers like needles pricking at my skin.

About two hours later, something else caught my attention — a flash of black hair moving through the side entrance. My stomach twisted. Raj Gupta.

He strolled in like he owned the place, dressed in a blue suit, hair slicked back with gel. I noticed the way he casually wiped a smudge of pink lipstick from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Disgust pooled in my gut. My ex-fiancé, in all his slimy glory.

And moments later, there she was — the woman in the white gown who had been so insistent about inviting me to that brunch. Now I understood why.

Turning away, my face twisted in revulsion. I needed air.

I made my way toward the grand patio, pushing open the tall French doors. The old-world charm of the place felt like a scene out of a movie — black and white tiled floors, elegant archways, and beyond them, a balcony that overlooked a sprawling flower garden. Rows of blooms lined the edges, and at the far end, partly lost in the shadows, I spotted a three-seater bench.

Drawn by the cool night air, I stepped further in, a glass of white wine in my hand. That's when he appeared — blocking my path.

"How are you, darling?"

Raj Gupta. His voice, smug and dripping with arrogance, made my skin crawl.

"I was fine... until I saw your face," I snapped, my tone sharp and cold.

His smirk widened. "Come on, darling. Don't be like that. I miss you. You know how it was between us... raw, passionate—"

I fought the urge to throw my drink in his face. This man wouldn't know the meaning of passion if it hit him in the face.

"Why don't you save that line for the girl you just hooked up with? Or maybe one of the many women you cheated on me with?" I shot back, my voice shaking with barely contained fury.

Raj's face darkened, but before he could spit out another filthy word, his hand shot out and gripped my arm.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you, Adhira," he hissed, tightening his hold. Pain flared as his fingers dug into my skin. I tried to yank my arm back, my heart racing in panic.

"Let me go, Raj," I gritted out, struggling against his iron grip.

"Come on, darling, don't make a scene. You know you still want—"

"She said, let go."

The voice was low, deadly calm — but the weight of it made both of us freeze.

I turned my head and found Lorenzo standing there, tall and still as stone, but his light green eyes burned like wildfire. His gaze dropped to where Raj's hand clutched my arm.

Raj scoffed, trying to play it cool. "And who the hell are you—"

Before he could finish, Lorenzo stepped closer, his jaw clenched. "I won't say it again."

The sharpness in his voice made Raj's grip loosen. I yanked my arm free and stepped back, cradling the sore spot where his fingers had left their mark.

Lorenzo's stare didn't waver. For a tense second, it felt like the air itself had gone still.

Raj muttered something under his breath and backed off, disappearing into the crowd like the coward he was.

My breathing was ragged. My skin felt too tight, my heart still pounding from the encounter.

"Are you okay?" Lorenzo's voice dropped, softer now, but laced with an undercurrent of something darker — protective. Dangerous.

I nodded stiffly, avoiding his eyes. "I'm fine."

But he didn't buy it. Without another word, his hand gently touched my elbow — warm, steady — and he guided me away from the open patio, toward the other balcony at the far end.

We stepped out into the night air, the scent of roses and jasmine wrapping around us like silk. The balcony was breathtaking — rows upon rows of flowers blooming in the soft glow of fairy lights. At the very end, the three-seater bench sat waiting, partially hidden under a canopy of vines.

Lorenzo let go of my arm once we were there, giving me space, but his presence stayed close — like a silent shield.

I exhaled, trying to calm the storm raging inside me.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flickered to mine, intense and unreadable. "You shouldn't let people like him get that close to you."

"I didn't plan on it," I shot back, the bitter taste still in my mouth.

A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken things.

"Next time..." Lorenzo's voice dropped lower, rougher. "Next time, if someone touches you like that — I won't just talk."

The promise in his tone made something flutter deep inside me. Dangerous. Unsettling. And yet, for the first time tonight, I didn't feel afraid. I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the delicate stem of the wine glass. The floral scent in the air mingled with the faint trace of his cologne — crisp and clean, with a dark edge I couldn't name.

"You didn't have to do that," I muttered, not looking at him.

Lorenzo's low laugh was humorless. "You think I was going to stand there and watch him put his hands on you?"

His voice sent a shiver down my spine.

"I can handle myself." The words came out sharper than I intended, my pride prickling at the idea of being rescued.

For a moment, he said nothing. And then — "I didn't step in because I thought you were weak, Adhira."

My name on his lips felt like something forbidden.

"I stepped in because he crossed a line. And I don't tolerate that."

I finally turned to face him, my chest tight. His eyes were on me — steady, unyielding — but there was something else there too. Something that made my pulse trip.

"Why do you care?" I asked before I could stop myself. My voice was quiet, but the question hung between us like a challenge.

Lorenzo's jaw flexed. His gaze dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes.

"You really don't see it, do you?" His words were soft, almost like a secret.

My breath caught. "See what?"

His mouth curled, but it wasn't a smile — it was darker, edged with frustration and something else.

"Does it matter?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he looked away for the first time that night.

The tension stretched between us like a live wire. My heart was thudding so loudly, I was sure he could hear it.

I wanted to say something — anything — to break the moment, but my throat felt dry.

Lorenzo took a slow step back, giving me space again, but his eyes lingered. "Go back inside. Don't stay out here alone."

His voice was back to that calm, controlled tone — but I could feel the storm beneath it.

"And Adhira..."

I paused, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

"If he ever touches you again..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The promise in his eyes said enough.

I nodded, my chest tight, and turned away before he could see the way my hands were trembling — not from fear this time, but from something far more dangerous.

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There goes chapter 2. I hope you guys will like it. 

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