KABIR'S POV :

Two days. Just two damn days.

It felt like a lifetime.

As the car turned into our London penthouse drive, my pulse kicked up. I'd handled business in India, met her family, begged for forgiveness, and asked the most terrifying question a man could ask: permission to marry the love of his life.

And now, all I wanted was to see her.

I entered quietly. The hallway smelled like her vanilla candles. The lights were dim, soft music played in the background — and there she was, standing in the living room, arms crossed, bottom lip caught between her teeth, waiting.

My Shanaya.

She looked up the second she heard my footsteps. Our eyes locked. She didn’t say anything—just launched herself into my arms.

I caught her, held her, buried my face in her neck.

"Two days without you is torture," she murmured.

"I know," I whispered into her skin.

"Never again."

------

SHANAYA'S POV :

His scent hit me the second he walked in. That familiar woodsy cologne, the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his arms. I hated how much I missed him in just 48 hours. But then again, this was Kabir. My home. My madness. My peace.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes, brushing my hair behind my ear.

"Did you shop with Shreya? Are you packed?"

I rolled my eyes with a smile. "Yes, yes, and yes. But you still won’t tell me where we’re going?"

He grinned. "You’ll see tomorrow morning. Be ready by 7 a.m. sharp."

"That’s criminal."

"That’s love," he said, kissing my forehead.

We spent the evening tangled in each other’s presence—not rushing, not worrying. Just being. Dinner. Laughter. Stories from his trip. Silent looks that said a thousand things.

And when we finally crawled into bed, it felt like the safest place on earth.

-----

THE NEXT MORNING

We reached the private airport just as the sun was rising.

Kabir’s jet gleamed in the golden light. He helped me up the steps like the dramatic gentleman he was.

Inside, it was luxury wrapped in comfort. I dropped into the plush seat, kicking off my heels.

"Still not telling me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He sat across from me, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, that smirk firmly in place. "What fun is a surprise if I ruin it?"

"You’re evil."

"You love me."

"Debatable."

"Liar."

We laughed.

As the jet soared into the sky, he came and sat beside me, pulling me onto his lap.

"We’ve been through too much," he murmured, fingers drawing circles on my thigh. "And yet, every time I look at you, I fall harder."

I leaned in, brushing my lips over his. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

"I’m lucky I have you."

We kissed slowly, with the kind of tenderness only two soul-tired lovers who survived the storm could share.

Eventually, exhaustion tugged at my limbs. I curled into his side, his arm around me, heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

I fell asleep somewhere over Europe.

------

SEVERAL HOURS LATER...

I blinked awake as the jet touched down.

Kabir squeezed my hand.

"Come on, sleepyhead. We’re here."

I looked outside.

My breath caught.

"Kabir... is this... Paris?"

He smiled.

"Welcome to the city of love, mi amour."

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KABIR’S POV

Paris.

The very air tasted sweeter here. As I stepped out of the jet with Shanaya’s hand in mine, her face lit up, her eyes reflecting the golden hues of the city. It wasn’t her first time in Paris, but this time, it was different. This time, it was ours.

I turned to look at her — oversized sunglasses, a soft smile on her lips, hair dancing in the wind. She looked like she was meant for this city.

And maybe… it was meant for this moment.

We checked into the Ritz — of course. She gasped at the suite, the roses, the view. But I wasn’t looking at the Eiffel Tower. I was looking at her.

We changed, freshened up, and then stepped out. The streets of Paris welcomed us with open arms. We held hands walking through Montmartre, shared gelato under blooming cherry trees, giggled at tourists, got lost in bookshops on Rue de Seine, and stood beneath street musicians playing soft jazz.

She twirled in front of a street painter, her sundress flaring with every spin.

“Paint me,” she grinned, glancing at the artist — and then back at me, “through his eyes, but with your heart.”

God, I was so far gone.

Later, over dinner by the Seine, I watched her glow in the candlelight. She licked a bit of chocolate off her spoon and winked. “Paris brings out the flirt in me.”

I leaned closer. “And it’s taking everything in me not to take you right here on this table.”

She choked on her wine, and I laughed.

We were laughter and softness and stolen kisses and moments you bottle in your soul forever.

But tomorrow… tomorrow would be a memory even Paris would envy.

THE NEXT DAY

While she still slept in the suite, tangled in silk sheets and dreams, I slipped out.

I had something to do.

I took a cab to Rue de la Paix — to a small jeweler’s boutique I’d spoken to months ago. I’d carried the ring with me all this while. The one I had made years ago, when I thought I’d lost her forever. It wasn’t enough anymore. She deserved more. Something timeless. Something… hers.

I placed the velvet box on the counter.

“I need this… modified. Perfected,” I said. “She deserves nothing less than art.”

The jeweler opened it, nodded, and smiled. “L’amour vrai. We’ll make it sing.”

My heart raced. Tonight was the night.

But first—her moment.

I texted her.

6 PM. Get ready. The car will pick you up. Wear something you love. Tonight’s not about us. It’s about you.

---

SHANAYA’S POV :

I read his text again for the hundredth time, standing in front of the floor-length mirror.

6 PM.

He never gave much away in messages, but I could feel something was coming. My stomach twisted — nervous, excited, dazed.

I turned back to the bed, where my red gown lay flat against white sheets. Silk. Sleek. The one I had dreamed of wearing in Paris ever since I was 16.

I slid into it carefully. The neckline dipped just enough. The slit on the side kissed my thigh. I curled my hair into soft waves, added a hint of highlighter, my favourite nude lipstick, and a touch of perfume behind my ear.

As I fastened my heels, I felt my heart thud louder.

Something about tonight felt unreal.

At exactly 6:01 PM, the concierge called. “Mademoiselle, your car awaits.”

I took a deep breath.

When I stepped outside, the wind was cool, and the city had started glowing with its golden hour. The chauffeur smiled and opened the door. I slid in, eyes wide as the car began driving through the heart of Paris.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He only smiled.

As the roads narrowed, I realized where we were headed.

The Eiffel Tower.

Lit up. Majestic. Dressed in a sunset.

My breath caught.

The car came to a slow stop, and I stepped out, stunned. A violinist played softly in the distance. Rose petals trailed on the pathway.

And then…

A touch on my waist.

I gasped.

Someone leaned in behind me — warm breath against my neck — and whispered, “You trust me?”

My breath hitched. I nodded.

A soft blindfold slipped over my eyes.

My lips parted, my heart stammered.

“Kabir… what is this?”

His voice was low, soft, steady.

“Just the beginning.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

And… cue the butterflies!

You felt that too, didn’t you? The tension. The romance. The build-up. Kabir’s planned something that’s going to make your hearts explode — and Shanaya’s dream night is just getting started.

Tell me — where do you think he’ll propose? Under the Eiffel Tower? On a rooftop?  Drop your guesses before the next chapter drops!

Are you ready to witness a proposal so emotional it’ll live rent-free in your heart?

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