It had been three days since we started living here in Seattle—me, holed up in Lorenzo's secure apartment, and my family hovering around like satellites, refusing to leave my side. I didn't blame them.

Bhai had filled me in on everything from that night.

After I'd fainted—thanks to a concussion and the gash on my head—they rushed me back to the Scarsdale mansion. Rudra Bhai had already called the family doctor. I was medicated, patched up, and within three hours, we were all flying to Seattle.

For the past three days, I'd watched hushed conversations around closed doors, caught fragments of whispered words: threat... sabotage... safety... strategy. They'd finally reached a decision. My family would return to Scarsdale, resume normalcy—or the appearance of it. Meanwhile, I'd stay here. With Lorenzo.

Laying low.

And though I knew it was the right move, my heart twisted at the thought of being alone. Especially after everything.

Now, we were at the door of the apartment—bags packed, Uber waiting downstairs. Goodbyes hanging heavy in the air.

I hugged Siddharth Bhai first. He didn't say anything for a moment—just wrapped his arms around me like he was trying to memorize the shape of me.

"You better not scare me like that again," he muttered into my hair. "I almost called the priest."

I laughed softly. "I'll try not to give you another heart attack, Bhai."

Kiara Bhabhi stepped forward next, her eyes glassy. "Eat on time. Sleep well. If Lorenzo annoys you, call me, I'll personally fly here and whack him."

Lorenzo raised his hands with a faint smirk. "Noted. I'll be on my best behavior, Mrs. Singh."

Ahaan Bhai came next, pulling me into a bear hug. "You know, Adi, you don't have to be this brave all the time. We've got your back. Always."

"I know," I whispered, burying my face in his shoulder for a second longer than necessary.

Alana, his fiancée, smiled softly, wrapping her hand around mine. "Just stay safe. And maybe call once a day? Or we'll send a drone."

"Twice," Ahaan added.

"I'll call," I promised. "But no drones. I like my privacy, thank you very much."

Then came Aarav. Of course, being Aarav, subtlety wasn't his thing.

"Okay, first of all," he started, dramatically wiping fake tears from his eyes, "I don't approve of this Lorenzo guy yet, but whatever—fine. Secondly—"

"Arav," I groaned.

"I'm being serious! If he tries anything shady, blink three times and tap your phone. We'll know."

I turned to Lorenzo. "See what I deal with?"

Lorenzo only chuckled, arms crossed. "It's... entertaining."

Then Rudra Bhai stepped forward, his expression unreadable, but the faint crease in his forehead gave him away.

"You have the panic button on your phone, right?"

"Yup."

"Extra lock on the bedroom door?"

"Yup."

"Cameras are set. Lorenzo's cleared. Still..." He looked at me for a long second. "You're not alone. Don't forget that."

I nodded, tears brimming now.

The kids appeared next. Ishaan ran up first, handing me a crumpled piece of paper. "It's a map to find your way back home."

I grinned, hugging him. "Thank you, Captain."

Saanvi gave me a small shell bracelet. "To keep you safe. Like Elsa's magic."

Sofia didn't say anything. Just hugged my leg tightly and whispered, "Don't be sad."

"I won't," I said, my throat tightening.

When the elevator dinged, it was like the moment broke into shards. Everyone stood up. Final hugs. Final glances.

Kiara Bhabhi kissed my forehead. "You'll be okay."

Alana squeezed my shoulder. "You always are."

The kids waved with both hands as the door closed behind them.

And then... silence.

I leaned against the door after they left, letting out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Lorenzo stepped beside me, not saying anything at first. Just stood there.

"You okay?" he asked after a while, voice low.

I nodded, wiping my eyes quickly. "Yeah. It's just... quiet now."

He held out a cup of tea. "I figured. That's why I added extra sugar."

I gave a weak smile, taking it. "Trying to bribe me into not crying?"

"Trying to keep your heart from breaking too loudly," he said, and walked into the kitchen.

And just like that... day one of this strange new chapter began.

_____________________________________________________________________________

It was around 9 o'clock now. My family had left around 4, and the silence had started to settle in like soft dust in the corners. The apartment, once filled with chatter, kids running around, and constant laughter, now echoed back nothing but the sound of the movie playing on TV—White Chicks.

I had curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a fluffy white blanket, Saanvi's soft unicorn plushie tucked under my arm. My pajama set was two sizes too big, the sleeves hanging past my wrists, but it was warm and mine. I was surrounded by pillows like a human burrito fortress, my feet occasionally poking out from the blanket to tap along to the soundtrack.

I laughed out loud—again—as the characters on screen got into another ridiculous mess. That movie never got old.

Just then, I heard the elevator ding.

I turned my head, half expecting it to be a delivery or some random building maintenance person. But no.

Lorenzo stepped in.

Dressed in an all-black suit. Hair slicked back. Sharp jawline even sharper. He looked every bit like a man pulled straight from a Vogue editorial shoot.

"Cozy enough?" he asked, one brow arching as his eyes swept over me and the mess of blankets, toys, and half-melted chocolates I may or may not have stolen from the fridge.

I grinned, giving him a lazy thumbs-up. "Hell yeah. Peak coziness achieved."

His lips curved into a smile as he strode toward me, the scent of his cologne trailing behind—something smoky and expensive.

He sat down beside me, loosening the top buttons of his shirt and resting one arm on the back of the sofa, now just inches from where I sat cocooned in my fort of fluff.

"Had dinner?" he asked casually, glancing toward the untouched plates on the table.

I shook my head slowly, eyes still on the TV. "Was waiting for you," I murmured.

He turned to me, and for a second, something unreadable flickered in his gaze. "You didn't have to."

"I hate eating alone," I said with a small shrug. "It feels... sad."

His expression softened just a little. "Then I better not keep you waiting long, hmm?" he said, standing up again. "Give me five minutes. I'll change and join you."

As he walked away, unbuttoning his cuffs, I realized that—strange as it was—I didn't feel entirely alone anymore.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

True to his word, Lorenzo returned within five minutes.

Gone was the sharp-edged businessman in the black suit. In his place stood a version of him I wasn't used to yet—relaxed, barefoot, and dressed in grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt that fit just a little too well.

He ran a hand through his damp hair as he walked toward the dining table. "Smells good," he muttered, glancing at the dishes the cook had laid out earlier—creamy chicken alfredo, garlic bread, a small bowl of salad, and two glasses of iced tea.

"Still waiting?" he asked, tilting his head at me as I was now half-off the couch, clutching the blanket like a security shield.

I stood up with a dramatic groan. "Ugh. Moving hurts."

He raised an eyebrow. "You were just giggling like a maniac on that couch five minutes ago."

"That was movie-induced euphoria," I said, sticking my tongue out. "Very different from... actual movement."

He shook his head, chuckling under his breath, then walked over and—without warning—picked me up.

"Lorenzo!" I squealed, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"You said moving hurts," he said simply, like it was the most logical thing in the world.

I stared at him, both annoyed and oddly flustered. "You're so dramatic."

"Says the girl who's swaddled herself like a burrito."

He gently set me down on the chair and helped push it in, then walked to his side of the table. The soft clink of cutlery and plates filled the room as we served ourselves.

For a few moments, we ate in silence. The kind of silence that wasn't awkward, but comforting. Familiar. A little surprising.

"I never thanked you," I said softly, staring down at my plate.

"For what?" he asked, not looking up but his voice quieter now.

"For... everything. Helping my brothers. Letting us stay. Dealing with the chaos of three children who think every hallway is a racetrack."

He glanced at me then. "You don't need to thank me for any of that."

"I do," I said. "You didn't have to do any of it. But you did. And I just—" I paused, unsure how to end that sentence.

Lorenzo's eyes locked onto mine. Calm. Unreadable. Steady.

"I did it because I wanted to," he said.

My breath caught slightly.

"And also," he added, smirking, "your niece thinks I'm her personal chauffeur-slash-prince-charming. I didn't really have a choice."

I laughed. "Saanvi would marry you if you gave her one more chocolate bar."

"I'm flattered. She has taste."

"She's five."

"Exactly. The most honest age."

We both grinned at that, the tension between us melting away like butter on warm bread.

A few minutes later, after we finished, I stood up to help clear the table.

Lorenzo gently placed his hand on mine. "I'll do it. You've had a long few days."

I looked at him. "I'm not broken, you know."

"I know," he said quietly. "But that doesn't mean you have to carry everything alone."

There it was again. That rare softness in him. The kind that caught me off guard every time.

"Okay," I whispered.

I curled back on the couch as he moved to the kitchen.

And for the first time in days, the silence didn't feel like a reminder of absence.

It felt like... something beginning.

________________________________________________________________________________

There goes chapter 9.

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