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HAPPY READING•~•
She was slipping through my fingers.
Again.
The moment I heard about the trip, it felt like a cruel twist of fate. The universe had timing sharper than a knife-it waited until I was already thinking about her, Siara, before it chose to strike.
And then-news.
She was leaving.
Her friends had planned it with military precision-quiet arrangements, perfectly timed execution. I could almost admire it. Almost. But admiration had no place here. My mind refused to linger on them. It clung to her-her voice, her stubbornness, the way she always managed to slip just beyond my reach.
But not this time.
A sharp exhale burned my chest. My jaw tightened. I would not let her vanish again. The universe could play games all it wanted, but this? This was mine to win.
She was slipping away-
But I would catch her.
One way or another.
I clenched the phone in my grip, pulse thrumming with urgency.
"Stevan," I called. My assistant appeared almost instantly. "Get the jet ready. Hawaii."
No hesitation. No explanation. No room for discussion.
Siara was heading there-her dream destination, her escape. And if she was going, so was I.
This wasn't a coincidence. This was an opportunity. A sign.
I turned sharply toward my desk, already planning my next steps, when a familiar voice slid into the room.
"What's with the storm brewing on your face?"
Tiziano.
My best friend, my business partner-the only one who could read me like an open book.
"You're chasing something again," he observed, arms folding across his chest, his sharp gaze dissecting me without effort. "Or someone."
I smirked, a slow curve of my lips that carried determination, challenge, and obsession all at once.
"I need to be in Hawaii."
Tiziano exhaled, almost amused. "So it's her."
I didn't bother denying it. His knowing smirk was the answer.
"She's there," I said simply, voice steel beneath velvet. "So I'm going."
I leaned against my desk, arms folded, eyes narrowed as I processed.
"She's not going alone. Her friends dragged her out for a 'rest'-but it's more than a trip. They're helping her escape. From what, I don't know. But I do know one thing-" my jaw ticked, "-she won't be escaping me."
Tiziano arched a brow. "So this is it? You're flying halfway across the world because Siara is trying to run from you. Again."
I tilted my head, smirk sharpening. "No. Because it's Siara. Because this might be the only chance I get to see her without walls, without her excuses. She thinks she's grown past me." My voice dropped low. "She hasn't."
His eyes flickered with a thought he didn't voice. Then-careful, deliberate-he asked, "And what about Sara?"
I caught the shift instantly.
His body stiffened. Just slightly. Enough.
A slow grin stretched across my face. "Ah. So that's the button, isn't it?"
Tiziano rolled his eyes. "Don't start."
"Oh, I already did." I leaned back, amusement crackling in my eyes. "Funny-you didn't react when I named the others. But Sara? The second I said her name, you looked like a man trying very hard to pretend he doesn't care."
"You're reaching," he muttered, but his jaw had already betrayed him.
I chuckled darkly. "Am I? Because she talked about it. The trip. The plans. Sara was the one filling in details. And you-" I pointed lazily at him "-listened too closely."
He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
His silence was confirmation enough.
I prowled closer, voice mocking but sharp. "So? Tell me-how much do you love hearing her talk?"
He exhaled heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're insufferable."
"And you're in denial."
For a beat, silence hung between us, thick with unspoken truths. His eyes, though, held more calculation than deflection.
"You know," I drawled, pacing slowly around him, "this trip could be interesting."
"Define interesting," he said warily.
"We make sure they know."
His brow furrowed. "Know what?"
"That we're not just shadows orbiting their lives. That's not a coincidence. That they belong to us."
Tiziano ran a hand through his hair, a dry laugh escaping. "You talk like Sara's waiting for me to swoop in and claim her."
"And isn't she? She doesn't know it yet. But I saw your face when you first met her. I know what you want, Tiz." My smirk turned razor-sharp. "Siara keeps slipping through my fingers, but this time? I won't play subtle. Neither should you."
He scoffed. "You're reckless."
"I'm determined," I corrected, voice low and final. "And you want to be."
The silence that followed was thick-calculation, temptation, denial, all clashing at once.
Finally, I leaned in, a glint of mischief flickering in my eyes.
"So. Are you in?"
Tiziano shook his head, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him-just the faintest smirk.
"...I'm in."
The moment the wheels hit the tarmac, the plane gave a final shudder, and I felt like I'd been reborn. Ten hours trapped in a metal tube-stiff seats, turbulence that toyed with my sanity, and a screaming toddler three rows back who never discovered the meaning of sleep.
I exhaled, exhaustion warring with the thrill of finally being here.
"Tara, I swear, if one more person elbows me trying to get their luggage, I'll throw myself into the ocean," I muttered.
She let out a tired laugh. "Siara, if you survive this airport, the ocean might be the least of your worries."
I side-eyed Roop, who was glued to Zafar's arm like a lifeline. He whispered something, and she giggled-full-blown, lovesick giggling.
I exchanged a glance with Sara, and without words, we both knew exactly what was coming.
Sirman snorted. "I give them five minutes before they start planning their entire lives together. Hope you all came prepared for the monologue of 'how we met and why Zafar is the love of Roop's life.'"
"Correction," I sighed, grabbing my bag from the overhead compartment. "Three minutes."
Like clockwork, Roop turned to us, eyes sparkling with an intensity only she could conjure. "You guys won't believe it! When we were landing, Zafar squeezed my hand at the exact moment the pilot announced our descent! It was like the universe was affirming-"
"-your entire destiny together. Yes. We've heard," Sara deadpanned, already stepping into the aisle.
Zafar grinned, unfazed. "Come on, let the girl be happy."
I rolled my eyes but smirked. "Happiness isn't the issue. Sleep deprivation, hunger, and my questionable grip on sanity are."
The air in the cabin grew thick with impatience-passengers eager to escape, stewardesses chirping their final farewells, the scent of recycled air mixing with the promise of adventure.
But as I stepped forward, taking my first official breath in Hawaii, a strange ripple stirred in my gut.
Something was about to happen.
And none of us were ready.
The humid Hawaiian air hit me like a warm embrace the second we stepped outside. The airport's sliding doors whispered shut behind us, sealing away the chaos we'd just escaped-ten hours of cramped seats, crying babies, and Roop's unwavering devotion to Zafar.
We stood on the curb, waiting for our rental cars, when Sara suddenly gasped.
"Oh my God."
Her hands flew to her head like she'd just solved the greatest crime of the century.
"What?" Tara asked, half-distracted as she dug through her bag for gum.
"I left one of my bags inside!"
Silence.
Then-chaos.
Sirman groaned. "You had one job, Sara."
Roop clutched Zafar's arm in horror. "Do you think they'll throw it away? Oh no, what if someone steals it?"
Sara looked at me in pure desperation. "Siara, come with me. Please."
I sighed, already feeling my bones protest. "Sara, I love you, but I just dragged myself out of that airport-"
"Siara," she pleaded, grabbing my wrist. "It has my passport in it."
Well. That changed things.
The group groaned collectively as Sara and I rushed back inside, past lines of impatient tourists and security guards who looked like they were counting down the minutes until their shifts ended.
"If I die in this airport, tell the world I tried," I muttered.
Sara sorted. "You can haunt them for me if they throw my bag out."
I smirked. "Deal."
And just like that, exhaustion took a back seat. Because something told me-deep in my gut-that retrieving her bag wasn't going to be as simple as we hoped.
Something wasn't right. And I was about to find out why.
We had just retrieved Sara's bag and stepped back outside when it happened.
Sara, still adjusting the strap on her bag, took one step forward-and collided hard with a passing man.
The impact sent her stumbling, her bag nearly slipping from her grasp.
"Hey!" she snapped, eyes flashing.
The man barely reacted.
No startled apology. No quick step back. Just the faintest flicker of acknowledgment before his gaze slid past her, dismissive.
It was that dismissal that set her off.
"What's wrong with you?" she fumed, stepping closer. "You nearly knocked me over, and you're just going to act like it didn't happen?"
The man sighed-slow, lazy, as though the entire confrontation was nothing but an inconvenience.
"Didn't see you," he said, clipped.
The tension thickened.
Roop tightened her grip on Zafar's arm. Tara shifted uneasily. Even Sirman-usually indifferent to Sara's outbursts-looked wary.
Yet the man remained utterly unfazed.
And that was what made my stomach twist.
Because the longer I stared-the sharp jawline, the effortless arrogance, the way his eyes skimmed over Sara like she wasn't worth the effort-the more recognition tickled at me.
I knew him.
Or at least, I thought I did.
The name danced out of reach, slipping through my fingers like sand.
Sara scoffed, voice sharp. "Oh, you didn't see me? Maybe next time, try using your eyes before you bulldoze through people!"
He met her glare without flinching.
"You're fine," he said simply.
And just like that, something clicked in my mind.
Not his full name. Not his story.
Just one thing: I had crossed paths with this man before.
And wherever it had been... it hadn't ended well.
He wasn't new.
Not fully, not clearly-but like a shadow lingering at the edges of my memory, his presence wasn't new.
Sara was still arguing, her voice sharp and unrelenting. "You just barge into people and act like it's their problem? Seriously?"
He barely reacted.
His posture is steady. Hands tucked into his pockets. Expression unreadable but not indifferent. No-something else. A quiet assessment, like he wasn't dismissing Sara, but cataloging every detail of the moment.
The tension grew heavier. Tara shifted again. Roop, always eager to smooth conflict, opened her mouth, but Zafar placed a subtle hand on her arm, holding her back.
And me?
I kept staring.
A flicker of familiarity. A distant recollection.
Have we met before? Had I seen him in passing? Had he been-
And then he looked at me.
Not a glance. Not casual acknowledgment.
A sharp, direct look. Like he recognized me, too.
Brief. A fraction of a second. But enough.
I wasn't imagining it.
He knew who I was.
And that was far more unsettling than anything else that had happened tonight.
The fight dragged on for ten minutes-ten minutes of sharp words, unwavering glares, and Sara refusing to let the man brush off his carelessness.
And the strangest part?
He wasn't annoyed.
Not irritated. Not defensive.
He was enjoying it.
Every jab, every retort, every pointed glare-he absorbed them with an amused glint, like he'd been through this before.
Like he already knew how Sara operated.
The realization chilled me.
Because when the fight finally ended-with Sara giving him one last fiery glare and muttering about people with no manners-he smirked.
Not smug. Not victorious.
Something else.
Something knowing.
He looked at her like she was a story he'd already read.
And yet, when he turned to leave, there was a flicker of anticipation in his expression.
Like he was waiting for the next chapter.
I watched him walk away, uneasy clawing at my chest.
"Sara," I murmured, "do you know him?"
She scoffed, exhaling sharply. "No. Or I wouldn't have wasted ten minutes yelling at him."
Maybe she was right.
Maybe he was just some arrogant stranger who found amusement in petty fights.
Maybe I was overthinking.
But my gut whispered otherwise.
This wasn't the last time we'd see him.
And that thought worried me more than anything else.
The tension lingered, heavy as the humid Hawaiian air. Even as we piled into the rental car, shuffling bags and settling into our seats, Sara kept her arms crossed, staring out the window with a sharp intensity that said she was still fuming.
I couldn't blame her.
That man-whoever he was-had gotten under her skin. Worse? He'd enjoyed every second of it.
I sat beside her in the back, stealing a glance at her clenched jaw. "You good?" I asked quietly.
She scoffed. "Do I look good?"
Fair enough.
Roop, ever the optimist, cleared her throat from the front seat. "It's fine. It's over. We're on vacation. Hawaii is supposed to be paradise."
"Practical people don't ram into others and act like it's their right," Sara shot back.
Zafar chuckled softly but wisely kept quiet.
The car hummed down the highway, palm trees and golden sands stretching endlessly beyond the road. The sky was deep blue, streaked with the final embers of sunset.
It should have been perfect-the transition from exhaustion to excitement, the shift from chaos to adventure.
But I couldn't shake the feeling.
Not about Sara's anger.
Not even about the argument.
About him.
That flicker of familiarity. The way he'd looked at her. The way he'd looked at me.
Something told me this wasn't over.
And as the resort appeared ahead, glowing warmly against the coastline, I knew one thing for certain-this trip had already taken a turn.
And none of us knew just how deep we were about to go.
Evening the beach near the resort.
Siara sat on the edge of the beach chair, her fingers tapping against her iced coffee. The Hawaiian breeze teased through her hair, carrying the scent of salt and coconut-too peaceful. Too distant from the cold tension that had gripped her for months.
Tara sprawled on the next chair, sunglasses perched high. "See? This is what you need, Siara."
Sara hummed, stretching under the sun. "No creepy messages. No digging through security logs for clues. Just us, sand, and cocktails."
Siara forced a smile. She knew their plan-to get her out, shake her loose from him. And maybe they were right. Maybe she needed space. Maybe she needed to breathe.
Simran tilted her head. "You look tired."
Siara scoffed, sipping her drink. "Gee, thanks."
Roop smirked. "Well, you do. And don't say it's just jet lag."
Siara rolled her eyes, but deep down, she knew it. She was tired. Tired of running. Of watching. Of waiting for the next move.
And for the first time in a year, there was nothing waiting for her. No messages. No warnings. Just... quiet.
Until her phone buzzed.
A single notification.
Siara stiffened.
Tara noticed. "Siara?"
Her breath hitched as she lifted her phone. For a moment, the screen was blank-then a single message appeared.
Unknown User:
Run all you want, Malenkaya Roza. But you know this isn't over. Not yet. Not until you see me again.
-Yours, Mr. Ghost.
Cold crawled down her spine. The ocean waves crashed behind her, but all she could hear was the pounding in her chest.
He was watching her. Even here. Even now.
She wasn't free at all.
Siara stared at the words, ice settling in her chest. Then, without hesitation, she locked her phone and tossed it onto the lounge chair beside her.
Not today. Not here.
She wasn't playing his game. Not this time.
Tara raised a brow. "That wasn't a work email, was it?"
"Nope." Siara tipped her drink back.
Sara snorted. "And you're ignoring it?"
"Yes."
Roop hesitated. "Siara-"
"I said yes." She leaned back, stretching her legs out, letting the warmth of the sun soak into her skin.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not when she was sitting in paradise. Not when, for the first time in a year, she could just breathe.
Simran studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Good."
Sara grinned, lifting her cocktail. "To reckless abandonment."
Tara smirked. "To pretend we don't have problems."
Siara laughed, real and unforced. "Cheers."
For now, just for these few days, she was going to enjoy it.
Laughter echoed through the salty breeze as Siara splashed into the waves, her body finally light. The sun painted the ocean in molten gold. Tara floated lazily, while Sara and Roop argued over the best photo angles.
Siara grinned as Simran snapped pictures. She actually felt good. No tension clawing at her chest, no weight pressing her thoughts.
And then-
A figure emerged from the water.
The world shifted.
Droplets slid down sculpted arms, rolling over sunlit skin.
Her breath hitched.
Rudra Sheth.
The name slammed into her mind.
Flashback ~
"Rudra Sheth, Rudra Sheth!"
She had once danced around, whispering his name like it was a forbidden song. Her friends had teased her mercilessly, their grins wide, but she didn't care. Back then, saying his name felt like the greatest achievement of her life.
Flashback ends ~
Her teenage crush. Her bhabhi's brother.
And now... standing in front of her, every detail is sharper than her memory.
Siara swallowed, blinking twice, hoping he'd vanish. He didn't. He ran a hand through his wet hair, sharp gaze scanning the shore-until it landed on her.
Her chest tightened. Recognition flickered in his eyes. Their gazes are locked. Too long.
And suddenly, she remembered everything she had tried to bury.
Oh no. Not here. Not now. Breathe, Siara, breathe.
Tara noticed immediately. Mischief sparked in her eyes. "Siara?"
Siara forced a grin. "What?"
Sara followed her gaze. "Oh."
Roop chuckled. "Well, well, well. Fancy seeing him here."
Siara froze. Because Rudra was still watching her.
Her pulse quickened as Tara marched straight toward him.
"Oh, no, no, no." Siara grabbed her arm, but Tara only smirked knowingly.
"What's wrong?" Tara teased, eyes flicking between Siara and Rudra.
"Nothing. We're leaving," Siara snapped, heat creeping up her neck.
But Tara wasn't listening.
She let out a dramatic whistle. "Oye, Rudra! Do you remember me, huh?"
Rudra's lips curved faintly, his gaze sharp but amused. His voice was low, steady-like he knew exactly the effect it would have.
"Hard to forget."
Siara's brain mocked her instantly:
Hard to forget? Oh, perfect. Just what I needed. Please, Rudra, carve it deeper, why don't you?
Her heart thudded painfully as her friends tried (and failed) to hide their grins.
Roop, sensing Siara's desperation, leaned closer and whispered, "You know, you could either walk away... or completely own this moment."
Siara's jaw tightened.
Walking away was safe.
But owning the moment?
She had never been good at running anyway.
Tara clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You should totally come to the party at the resort tonight! It's gonna be legendary."
Siara's stomach twisted, but her expression stayed neutral, refusing to betray her panic. This was fine. Perfectly fine.
Rudra arched a brow, considering for a moment before nodding. "Sure. Sounds good. I'm here with my best friend, though."
Tara waved a hand like it was nothing. "Even better! Bring him along."
Rudra's gaze flicked toward the shoreline. He raised his hand. "Tiziano!"
Siara barely had time to process before a tall, impossibly composed figure turned.
And just like that-
Sara audibly gasped.
"Oh. My. God."
Tiziano strode toward them with unhurried confidence, every step radiating quiet power. Sun-kissed skin, sharp Italian features, that slow, assessing gaze-he looked like he belonged in high-stakes thrillers, not in a Hawaiian beach crowd.
But Sara wasn't reacting like everyone else.
No-she was frozen.
Because this wasn't just any stranger.
This was the man she had collided with at the airport. The one she had sparred with for ten straight minutes over "who had right of way" near baggage claim.
And now... he was standing right in front of her.
"Oh no," Simran whispered, biting her lip to hold back laughter.
Roop's eyes widened as realization hit. "Wait-he's the guy? The one Sara basically fought?"
Sara swallowed hard, her silence saying everything.
Meanwhile, Tiziano's gaze slid toward her, recognition dawning. His lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Well," he said smoothly, amusement lacing his tone. "Fancy seeing you again."
Siara clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the laugh bubbling up. Sara's jaw clenched, her entire posture screaming that she was seconds away from either fleeing or denying everything.
Tara, absolutely delighted, clapped her hands together. "Oh, this party is going to be insane."
Siara groaned inwardly.
Unfortunately... she wasn't wrong.
✦✦✦✦✦✦
Resort Hall: Before the Party
The girls lounged in the resort hall, the soft hum of the ocean bleeding through the walls. The setting was serene.
But Siara? Anything but.
She paced furiously, arms crossed, glare fixed on Tara.
"Why would you invite him? Them?!"
Tara rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You're acting like I invited a mortal enemy."
"He is basically one!" Siara snapped, her eyes blazing. "You know exactly why I don't want Rudra around."
Roop smirked, never missing an opportunity to stir the pot. "Correction-you think you don't want him around."
Siara shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass before whipping back toward Tara. "You know I put distance between us. You know what happened. You know how he-"
"How did he misuse your feelings?" Tara cut in, brow raised.
The words hit like a blow.
Siara's chest tightened. Because, well... it wasn't entirely wrong.
She had been young. He had been kind. And back then, she hadn't understood the weight of her own emotions.
But he had.
And when things shifted-when she shifted-he let the distance grow.
She'd told herself that's what she wanted. That she was fine with it.
Until her brother's wedding.
Until Rudra had been there.
And Tara, the menace, had noticed everything.
The way his gaze followed her when he thought no one was watching.
The way it lingered just a fraction too long during the ceremonies.
The flicker in his expression when she spoke, when she laughed... when she simply existed.
Tara leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "You can't hide forever."
"I'm not hiding," Siara bit back.
Simran tossed a cushion at her, smirking. "Then why are you freaking out?"
Siara caught it midair, huffing. "I'm not-I just-this is complicated."
Meanwhile, Sara-quite far too long-finally groaned. "Forget him. Why did you have to drag his best friend into this?"
Tara grinned like the devil herself. "Oh, that was just a lucky accident."
Sara's glare could have burned holes through the wall. "Lucky? Lucky? He's the guy I collided with at the airport! The one who probably thinks I'm a walking disaster!"
Roop laughed. "Well, technically, you are."
"Not. Helping." Sara jabbed a finger at her.
Tara clapped her hands, utterly delighted. "See? This is fate. All of it. And tonight-you're both going to deal with it."
Siara exhaled sharply.
She hated that Tara thought she knew her so well.
She hated even more that she might be right.
Despite Siara's protests, the verdict had been made. They were going.
Roop clapped once. "Alright, ladies. Outfits. Energy. And most importantly-Siara, you need to stop freaking out."
"I am not freaking out," Siara groaned, collapsing onto the couch.
"You're absolutely freaking out," Sara deadpanned.
Simran grinned, already scrolling on her phone. "Okay, emergency fashion consultation. Bold? Classic? Mysterious?"
Tara stretched lazily, smug as ever. "I vote we make Siara so irresistibly stunning Rudra won't know what hit him."
Siara shot her a daggered glare. "I am not dressing for Rudra."
"Of course not," Tara purred. "But-if he happens to be rendered speechless, that's just a bonus."
Siara groaned, burying her face in a cushion.
Roop nudged her. "Come on. We're already here. Might as well make the night worth it."
And despite every rational voice screaming this was a terrible idea... Siara knew one thing for certain-
There was no stopping it now.
The night had already begun.
And chaos was inevitable.
✦✦✦✦✦✦
In siara's room.
Simran had hijacked Siara's wardrobe, tossing dresses across the bed like a stylist on a mission. Roop, perched dramatically on the edge of a chair, critiqued each one with the flair of a seasoned fashion judge.
Meanwhile, Tara sat cross-legged on the couch, cocktail in hand, grinning like she'd just orchestrated the greatest scheme of her life.
"I still don't see why I have to dress up," Siara muttered, holding up a sleek, dark dress.
"Because," Tara declared, raising her glass, "if Rudra did misuse your feelings back then, tonight is the perfect chance to remind him exactly what he lost. And if he didn't, maybe it's time to reconsider all that distance."
"There is no reconsidering," Siara shot back, tossing the dress aside.
Across the room, Sara groaned, buried in her own nightmare. "I cannot believe I have to spend the night anywhere near him. I barely survived the airport humiliation!"
Roop cackled. "You didn't just bump him, Sara-you shoved his suitcase. Of course he remembers."
Simran smirked, nudging her shoulder. "Honestly? I think he enjoyed that little showdown."
Sara narrowed her eyes, muttering darkly under her breath.
Siara, meanwhile, stole a glance at the clock. Time was slipping too fast, every second tightening the knot in her chest. She wasn't ready. Not for this. Not for him.
Tara's sharp gaze softened as she caught the hesitation. "Siara," she said quietly. "You don't have to go if you really don't want to."
Siara clenched her jaw. Because the truth was-she did want to go.
And that was the worst part.
So instead of arguing, she reached for the dark dress.
Tara's triumphant smile lit the room.
The night had officially begun.
And it was going to be unforgettable.
Hawaii didn't feel like an escape anymore.
It felt like the start of something dangerous.
✦✦✦✦✦✦
TO BE CONTINUED...
Tell me your fav part?
You think siara still has feelings for rudra?
Sara and Tiziano fight?
And first look of Rudra?
How you feel about Hawaii?
If anything feel miss let me know in the comments.
Next update: Friday
Target: 10 votes and 5 comments
Thank you for reading.
Note:
"The chapter was too long, so I decided to split it into two. Here's the first part! I know you might be wondering about Tiziano and Sara's connection-don't worry, their story of thrill, chaos, and hate will unfold in another book. So, stay tuned and wait for it. See you soon, everyone!"
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