Chapter 9–You Must Be Natasha.

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. Everything looked normal.

I resumed jogging, my pace picking up again. But this time, something felt different.

It was subtle.

My brows pulled together slightly as I ran, my eyes flicking ahead. It flicked to the side, then I paused. I looked behind me, but no one was there.

I shrugged. It was probably nothing.

I continued jogging, but it felt like I was being watched.

Then I noticed a figure.

Not too close. Not too far either.

I kept running. It was a public space. People were allowed to move. There was nothing unusual about someone trailing behind me.

But still, it felt weird.

I slowed my pace just enough to fall into step beside another jogger—a woman I didn’t know, her rhythm steady.

It was safer that way.

I smiled at the woman, trying to engage her in conversation.

The figure was gone.

I stayed there for a few moments, matching the woman’s pace before eventually breaking off and turning back toward home.

While I was heading home, I didn’t notice anyone following me. Relief surged through me.

I had barely stepped inside my room when my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen.

Tristan.

I answered the call.

“What is it this time?” I asked, my tone even.

“Easy, tigress,” his voice came through. “I’m calling you because my grandmother wants to meet you.”

I blinked once. His words caught me off guard.

“That’s sudden.”

“She insists on seeing the woman I'm getting married to,” he said.

I hesitated.

There were a dozen reasons to say no. I hadn’t even fathomed the idea of getting married to him, let alone processed the decision I made about a week ago. Meeting his family—his grandmother… felt like stepping into something far more real than I bargained for.

My grip on the phone loosened slightly.

“Fine,” I said after a moment. “I’ll see her.”

“Good.”

“Send me the addr—“

“There’s no need for that,” he cut in smoothly. “A car is already waiting for you.”

I paused.

“…Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

My expression hardened slightly as I turned, instinctively moving toward the window.

A sleek black BMW was outside, waiting.

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“You sent a car before I even agreed?”

“I love to take my chances,” he replied.

“You’re unbelievable.”

A faint chuckle came from the other end.

“I’ll see you soon, Natasha.”

The call ended.

I stared at the phone for a second before lowering it slowly.

It didn’t take me long to get ready.

My movements were precise, controlled. I chose something simple, but elegant.

This was just a visit.

As I stepped out of the house and into the waiting car, I couldn’t ignore the quiet shift that settled in my chest.

The drive was calm.

The car pulled into an exclusive, more controlled environment.

I found myself staring at the estate before me, expansive and commanding without even trying.

The car came to a stop in front of a manor.

I stepped out of the car slowly, my gaze moving across the structure, taking in the details without letting it show too much on my face.

I walked toward the entrance, my steps measured.

The door opened as soon as I stepped on the terrace.

“Welcome, ma’am.”

“Hi! Thank you.” I said as I nodded to the doorman.

The inside was more than I expected.

Minimal, but elegant. Intentional.

Nothing out of place.

My eyes moved across the space as I stepped further in, taking in everything.

The floors were polished, cool and smooth beneath my heels, stretching into a living area. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side.

Muted tones dominated the space—beige, charcoal, hints of deep wood. Every color chosen, not accidental. Even the air felt curated. Clean, faintly scented.

I was into interior design, so it wasn’t hard to tell.

My eyes moved over the details until they settled on a picture of a woman mounted on the far wall. She looked elegant, young. And there was a striking resemblance between her and Tristan. Could that be his mother?

I tilted my head slightly, studying.

“You must be Natasha.”

The voice was warm, gentle. It caught me off guard.

I turned.

And for the first time since I had stepped into the house… I paused.