LOGINTristan’s POVDaniel and I stepped out of the study, the door closing softly behind us. I walked downstairs, my steps measured. Daniel followed. Abuela sat comfortably in the living area, Patricia beside her. They were mid-conversation, their expressions relaxed. “Where’s Natasha?” I asked, my eyes scanning the room. Patricia looked up first. “Oh. You just missed her.”My brows furrowed slightly. “Missed her?”“She said she had to leave,” Abuela added gently. “Something came up.”My gaze sharpened. “Did she say anything else?”Patricia shook her head. “No. Just that she needed to go.”“Okay,” I said. There was a brief pause. “Didn’t she tell you she was leaving?” Abuela asked, looking surprised. “Tell me she was leaving? I left her with you downstairs.”“I thought she came to your study,” Patricia said. “She came to my study?” I asked. Abuela nodded. “Yes. She said you mentioned some documents.”The silence that followed stretched thin. I didn’t move. My mind replayed the l
Natasha’s POV. I turned at the sound of the voice. My gaze landed first on the woman. Older. Graceful. Fragile, but not weak. She stood beside Tristan, her hand resting lightly in his as if it had always belonged there. There was something about the way he held her—careful and steady. A side of him I had never seen beyond the cocky, provocative façade he put on. Behind them stood another woman, younger. That must be his sister. For a moment, I simply stood there—taking it all in. This version of Tristan felt… different. Softer. Different from what people described. He was known to be cold, ruthless. I had never seen that side of him, nor have I seen this one. “Abuela,” Tristan said quietly, his tone carrying a gentleness I hadn’t expected. “This is Natasha.” “Natasha, this is my grandmother…” he paused, then turned to the woman behind him. “…and this is my sister, Patricia.” Their faces lit up instantly. “Hello, Natasha.” Patricia said with so much enthusiasm. “He
Natasha’s POV. I had not planned to go jogging this morning. But sleep had come in fragments. My mind was restless and unsettled. By the time the sun began to rise, I threw on a sports bra and tight shorts, with a pair of sneakers. The air outside was cool. I adjusted the earbuds in my ears, letting the music fill the silence as I began to jog. I’d say Ananya does have an amazing playlist. She had sent me her Indian playlist when I was grieving Lucas. I never really listened to them because it was hard to understand what they were saying and I didn’t really like them—I never wanted to upset Ananya or her culture. My pace was steady, my breathing controlled. Each step grounded me, pulling me away from the thoughts I didn’t want to revisit. After a while, I slowed down, coming to a stop by the side of the road. I bent slightly, stretching my legs, rolling my shoulders before straightening again. My gaze lifted briefly, scanning my surroundings without much thought. Everyth
Natasha’s POV. The house was quiet when I got home after my meeting with Tristan. I went into the kitchen to make myself a coffee. I moved around the kitchen, reaching for the kettle and filling it with water. I set the kettle down a little harder than necessary, turning it on as I leaned against the counter. My fingers tapped lightly against the surface, absentmindedly while I waited, my mind refusing to stay still. I pushed off the counter to grab a mug from the cabinet, setting it down as my thoughts drifted back to the cafe. The kettle clicked off, cutting through the silence. I straightened up immediately as I moved to pour the hot water into the mug, the steam rising in soft waves. The coffee dissolved instantly. I stirred it slowly, watching the spoon circle as if it had answers my thoughts didn’t. I stopped stirring. The spoon clinked softly against the ceramic as I set it down. My fingers curled slightly at my sides as the thoughts settled again, heavier th
Tristan’s POV I stared at my phone before dialing the number. It rang repeatedly, then straight to voicemail. I dialed again. It rang once. Twice. “Hello?” Her voice came through, sleepy. A faint smile touched my lips. “Natasha.” “Who is—“ There was a pause on the other end. “Tristan.” she said. I could hear the irritation creeping into her voice. “How the hell did you get this number?” Of course that would be the first thing she asked. “I told you,” I replied smoothly, leaning back in my chair. “I have my ways.” I could almost picture the annoyance on her face. “Yeah, sure, Castillo. What is it that you want this early?” she asked. “We need to meet.” “For what exactly?” “To talk,” I replied matter-of-factly. “About your father’s company.” Silence followed. “You should be having that conversation with him. Not me.” she said finally. My gaze darkened slightly. “That would be the logical approach if this were just business.” “And i
Natasha’s POV I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. My gaze drifted across the room. It should be comforting, but it only reminded me of how little control I actually had over my life. Marriage. To Tristan. A man I barely know. The word still didn’t sit right. I pushed myself off the door and walked further into my room, kicking off my heels carelessly before sinking onto the edge of the bed. My phone sat beside me. For a moment, I stared at it. There were several missed calls from Ananya. I hadn’t responded to her texts from this morning, nor had I returned her calls. I took a deep breath. Then I picked up the phone and dialed. It didn’t even ring twice. “Natasha?” her voice came through immediately. “Finally! Do you know how many times I’ve tried calling you?” I let out a quiet sigh. “I’m fine.” “Don’t ’I’m fine’ me,” Ananya snapped. “You disappeared after the club. I was literally looking for you everywhere.” “I left.”







