Morning light in Rome – golden, gentle, almost smug – had no idea Ayush was already awake.
He blinked up at the ceiling of his room, brain half-fried from the night before, already doing the mental math of whether he had time for breakfast (nope) and if it was still okay to wear the same hoodie from yesterday (definitely yes).
His first day of university had arrived. Somehow, the nerves had been replaced with sheer panic over all the pre-course material, emails with five attachments each, and a PDF titled “Suggested Reading List (Only 63 pages).” That alone deserved tears.
Still, Ayush powered through. Morning lectures flew by, and even though he was buried under presentations and “group discussion assignments” by lunchtime, he had managed to make two new friends: Beck, who looked like he belonged in a modeling catalog, and Max, who swore more than he breathed but had a heart of gold.
“First day and we already have homework,” Max groaned, chucking his notebook across the café table where they met during break.
“Bro, you think that’s bad?” Beck said. “My group wants to make a Google Slide timeline of Italian economic policy. I’d rather walk into traffic.”
Ayush laughed, and for a second—just a second—everything felt light again.
6:00 PM – Café Espresso
By the time he tied his apron strings, his feet had already hurt. His shift had barely started.
But Ayush smiled. He always did. Every customer got a version of it—genuine, warm, the kind that softened tired eyes and made old grannies tip extra. His boss, Lucia, always said he brought sunshine into coffee beans. And really, who was he to argue?
The café was calm, the regulars friendly, and even though his shift was only three hours, Ayush could barely keep his eyes open when it ended. His entire body felt like it had been gently run over by a very polite bus.
Back at the share house, he found his roommates yelling at each other over video games.
“YOU’RE CAMPING AGAIN!”
“IT’S CALLED STRATEGY!”
“I’LL STRATEGY YOUR FACE.”
Ayush barely had time to laugh before he waved them off with a tired, fond smile. “You guys are insane.”
He showered, letting the hot water wake him up just enough to feel human again. Then made himself some leftover pasta, thanked whatever Roman kitchen gods had gifted him such clean, non-chaotic roommates, and finally retreated to his room.
He messaged Aditi first:
Made friends. Got murdered by assignments. Miss you idiots.
And called his parents. His mom got emotional (again), his dad asked if he needed more thermal socks (again), and by the time Ayush laid down in bed, he felt strangely… good.
Happy, even.
A warmth settled in his chest. Everything, for once, felt like it might actually go right.
That’s when he appeared again.
Sharp grey eyes. That face. That jaw. That ridiculous coat. The man from the airport. The storm behind those eyes.
Ayush’s eyes snapped open.
“…what the hell,” he whispered into the silence.
His cheeks were burning. Like, on-fire, oh-my-god-did-I-just-blush-for-a-glare level of burning. He sat up and cupped his face, shaking his head violently.
“Nope. No. Not happening. I am NOT crushing on Mafia Dracula. Absolutely not.”
But his heart betrayed him with one tiny skip.
The Next Day – Mid-morning at Café Espresso
It wasn’t supposed to be his shift.
Ayush had planned to visit a few local bookstores, maybe even sketch a bit by the Tiber River. But Lucia’s part-timer had called in sick, and she’d asked Ayush with that hopeful, frazzled look he couldn’t say no to.
“You’re my angel,” she’d said. “The others? Lazy donkeys.”
So here he was, apron on, humming to himself as he wiped down tables.
The café slowly filled. Tourists. Locals. Students. The regular buzz.
Then the bell above the door jingled.
Ayush looked up—and saw a small child strut inside like he owned the building.
He was maybe six years old, with perfect black hair, chubby cheeks, and dimples that should have been illegal. Behind him was a tall man in a sharp suit and a bodyguard aura so intense it made Ayush tense on instinct.
The little boy marched to the counter. “I want one of everything.”
The suited man sighed. “Young master, your father said no sweets today.”
“But I’m hungry! I behaved! I didn’t even tackle the cat this morning!”
“You tried to. And it scratched you.”
“That’s emotional damage, not physical!”
Ayush blinked. This child had arguments.
He approached gently. “Hey there. Trouble choosing?”
The child’s head snapped up. His face brightened instantly. “I want the flower one! And the chocolate boat! And the squiggly green one!”
The bodyguard sighed again. “Sir, please—”
“Are you his dad?” Ayush asked.
The man stiffened. “No. I’m his caretaker. He’s not supposed to eat sweets with a high sugar content.”
Ayush knelt a little to meet the boy’s eyes. “Okay, how about I bring you a small plate of low-sugar sweets? That way, we’re all happy.”
The boy gasped. “YOU’RE MY HERO!”
The caretaker didn’t approve. But Ayush’s smile was disarming. “Just a few pieces. I promise he won’t go home bouncing off walls.”
With a reluctant nod, the man stepped aside.
Fifteen minutes later, Ayush returned with a hand-curated plate of low-sugar pastries. The boy lit up like a festival.
“These are AMAZING!” he cried. “You’re like—like—better than my bodyguard! Can I feed you one?”
“Oh no, they’re for you—”
“Just one!”
When Ayush hesitated, the boy’s smile dropped.
The caretaker sighed. “Eat it.”
So he did.
And the boy beamed again, like the sun had decided to reincarnate just for him.
Ayush nearly melted on the spot.
He chuckled. “You’re trouble, huh?”
The boy stuck out his tongue. “I’m adorable, thank you very much.”
“What’s your name, trouble?”
“I’m Lian Russo! But you can call me Lian!”
Ayush blinked.
Russo. That name.
The chill crawled up his spine—but before he could say anything, the caretaker stepped in.
“Time to go, young master.”
Lian pouted but followed, waving furiously as he left. “BYE COFFEE HERO!!”
Ayush waved back, heart still racing.
Russo. That can’t be… can it?
Evening – Share House
Lucia gave him a bag of sweets as thanks.
“These’ll go stale. Share with your chaos roommates.”
And he did—until one of them reached for a particular pistachio swirl.
“Not that one.”
“Ohooo,” Max grinned. “Saved it for someone special?”
“Was it that sunshine kid?” Beck teased. “You’ve got ‘big brother energy’ written all over you.”
Ayush just rolled his eyes, grabbed the pastry, and fled to his room.
He placed it on his desk. And stared.
Lian Russo.
He didn’t know what this feeling was.
But he hoped—really, really hoped—he’d see that little dimpled menace again.
End of Chapter 2
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