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Rico stood on the pristine pavement outside Ameya Luxury Apartments, a monument of casual confidence. He wore a simple white t-shirt, which starkly contrasted with his sleek black sunglasses, giving him the aura of a movie star on a quick errand.
The heavy, ornate door of the apartment opened slightly. Ameya stood there, but she wasn't alone. In her arms, swaddled tightly, was a tiny baby.
Rico stopped mid-stride. His easy, confident smile instantly dissolved. His hand instinctively reached up, and he slowly slid the black glasses off his face, revealing a raw look of shock in his eyes. He lowered his voice to a disbelieving whisper. "Ameya... is this baby...?"
Ameya blinked, momentarily confused by his intensely altered expression. Then, realization dawned. She shifted the baby gently. "What are you thinking, Rico?" she asked, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She paused for a beat, drawing out his agony. "She is my sister's baby. Not mine."
The tension broke instantly. The relief that washed over Rico was palpable, morphing the shock into a dazzling, sudden smile. He didn't wait for permission. He simply took a long stride, moving past Ameya and into the entrance hall.
"Rico, wait! Stop!" Ameya hissed, trying to physically block him, but he was too quick. He was already in the large living room, his Assistant also droped gifts in living room ,where her entire family sat on the sofa.
Rico froze, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation. He shifted from a casual wave to an instantaneous, deep bow, greeting them with the utmost politeness. "Good Morning , everyone," he murmured, attempting to seem harmless.
Ameya's family—her father, mother, and sister—were completely stunned. They hadn't heard the door and certainly hadn't expected Rico to materialize in their living room.
The awkward silence was broken by Ameya's father, who rose slowly, his jaw set in cold anger. Seconds later, Rico was standing outside the door again, his shoulders slumped slightly. Ameya's father filled the doorway, his massive hand gripping the wood frame.
"Are you thinking you can just do whatever you want in my daughter's life?" her father's voice was low and dangerous. "No more."
He closed the heavy door with a decisive click.
Rico sighed, running a hand through his hair. He straightened his spine and turned back toward the elevator, a fierce determination hardening his features. He whispered to the silent doorway, "I will win her family. I will get their consent for our marriage. Wait, Ameya." And with that promise, he turned and was gone.
Inside, the silence stretched. One by one, Ameya's sister and mother retreated to their rooms, leaving Ameya alone with her father. Her father was still simmering, his anger a silent, heavy presence. Her mother, however, didn't utter a single word to her. She only looked at Ameya—a long, searching gaze full of unspoken questions and worry. Ameya remained utterly silent, avoiding both their eyes.
A few minutes later, Ameya stood on the street in front of her luxury apartments, tapping her foot and checking her phone, waiting for her booked cab. A low-slung, expensive luxury car glided up to the curb and stopped silently right in front of her. Ameya frowned, checking the license plate; it wasn't her ride.
The tinted window of the front seat powered down. There, behind the wheel, was Rico.
Ameya smirked, leaning slightly toward the window. "Aren't you going back yet?" she asked, her voice laced with challenge.
Rico smiled, a flash of pure mischief. "How can I leave my girlfriend stranded?" He slightly lowered his sunglasses, winked at her, and slid the glasses back up. "Get in the car."
"No, you go," Ameya retorted, turning her face away to look down the street.
Rico sighed dramatically, killed the engine, and stepped out. He removed his sunglasses completely, tucking them into his t-shirt collar. "I know you're angry at me," he said, his voice dropping to a serious, sincere tone. "I'm here to clarify everything to you. But I need you to listen."
Ameya stared at him, her expression unreadable, and continued to check her phone for her cab's location. Just as she saw the icon near her place, Rico swiftly snatched the phone from her hand and raised it high above his head.
"You won't listen to me, I won't give your phone back," he declared, a playful but firm glint in his eyes.
Ameya jumped to retrieve it, but she misjudged her footing. Instead of grabbing the phone, she fell right into him. Rico, quick as a flash, grabbed her and steadied them both, preventing a fall. He held her close for a startled second before she pushed back to her position.
Rico warned her, a soft threat in his gaze. "If you don't come with me right now, I will lift you up and put you inside this car myself."
Ameya's eyes widened, a flicker of irritation and surrender in her expression. Without a word, she spun around and went to open the back seat door.
Rico smirked, his tone immediately hardening. "What are you doing? Come to the front seat and sit."
She bit back a response, stalked to the passenger side, and waited. Rico opened the door for her, a gesture of lingering chivalry. She got in. He closed the door, went back to the driving seat, and started to drive.
As they drove, Ameya kept looking at Rico when he wasn't looking, then quickly turning away just before he glanced in her direction. Rico smiled, having noticed her peek.
"You can stare at your boyfriend, you know," he said, winking again.
Ameya widened her eyes.
"You've changed a lot, Ameya," he continued, a nostalgic smile touching his lips. "You didn't like that before. You were so stubborn."
Ameya smirked. "You, too. You're acting like a villain who's chasing his lover."
Rico threw his head back and laughed. "Me?"
Suddenly, Ameya's phone rang—the phone Rico still held. He silently handed it back. She took it quickly, answering with a professional edge. "I'm on the way, I'll reach before the shoot." She disconnected the call.
"Who was that?" Rico asked.
"I have to go shooting. It's already late," Ameya said, flustered.
"Don't worry, I'll drop you there. Before that, where is the shooting?"
Ameya froze, thinking. Is he really listening to me? Why is he behaving so obediently now?
Rico repeated, "Are you listening?"
Ameya snapped back to reality. "Yes. That is..." she trailed off, finally giving him the address.
After twenty minutes, they reached the bustling shooting location. Ameya unclipped her seatbelt, ready to bolt.
"Call me after the shooting. I have to talk to you," Rico stated, his eyes intense.
Ameya nodded curtly.
"If you don't," he warned, a dangerous softness in his voice, "I will come where you are and lift you up from there."
Ameya froze, then quickly challenged him. "But I've changed my number. How will you get it?"
Rico smiled playfully. He took his phone and dialed. Ameya's phone rang immediately in her hand. Ameya was genuinely shocked.
He chuckled. "When I snatched your phone, your phone locked instantly by your thumb impression, so... I took your number." He leaned closer, his voice low. "Save my number as My Fiance."
Ameya didn't reply, only managing a small nod. She quickly got out. Rico waved his hand. As Ameya walked away, she couldn't stop herself. She turned back again and again, watching him until he drove away.
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