The car moved smoothly down the dimly lit road, the night breeze slipping through the half-open windows, carrying the faint scent of marigolds from a distant temple.
Isabella sat with her back straight, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her saree. Leo kept his eyes on the road, but his mind… it was trapped on her.
The red saree.
The ghungroos.
Her voice.
Her eyes.
He had seen hundreds of women, thousands even—none left him frozen the way she had.
Finally, Isabella spoke, her voice soft but steady.
"Umm… I didn't get your name."
Leo's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Nobody asked that.
Nobody dared to as everyone heard his name from others like the ruthless Italian mafia.
His voice came out low.
"Leonardo....Leonardo Romano...."
She smiled, and the car somehow felt warmer.
"I'm Isabella. Isabella Moren "
He knew her name now—properly, fully—and hearing it from her lips sent something sharp and electric crawling down his spine.
He swallowed hard.
"Isabella…"
He repeated it in a whisper without meaning to.
Her breath hitched.
She looked out the window quickly, hiding the flush blooming across her cheeks.
A small, awkward silence settled before Leo cleared his throat.
His eyes flicked toward her saree.
"Why are you… dressed like this?"
His tone wasn't mocking—just curious, intensely curious.
More curious than he intended to show.
Isabella looked down at the crimson fabric draped over her shoulder.
"Oh… this? It's a saree."
"I see...Saree...." Leo murmured. "Do you wear this every day?"
She laughed softly—a sound he felt in his chest like a beat of his heart.
"No… only sometimes. I like traditional things. Indian culture… dance… anklets… ghungroos."
She lifted her feet slightly; the bells chimed.
"I've been learning classical dance since I was little."
Leo nodded, even though he didn't understood many of her words. He stared at the road but listening with predatory intensity.
She noticed his confusion as she started to explain her words "anklets his ghungroos....they are like this " a small sound of chim appeared as she showed her ankle lifting her saree a bit. " this small silver bells ring everytime there is a movement and they are the essential part of traditional dance too but I lobe them and wear them everyday. " She smiled as she told him about her likes.
She continued, voice gentle:
"My mom was Indian… Baba says I look like her.
I wear sarees because it makes me feel close to her."
The innocence of that sentence nearly made Leo's jaw clench.
Something warm, unwelcome, and dangerous stirred inside him.
He forced himself to focus.
"And where are you going dressed like this?"
"Oh!" Isabella straightened.
"To my dance practice. I have a big performance tomorrow."
Leo raised a brow.
"Performance for what?"
She looked excited now—alive.
"A charity event. We're raising money for disabled children.
Kids who… who need surgeries, wheelchairs, hearing aids… some who can't even talk properly."
Her voice softened with a tenderness he had never seen in anyone.
"I want to help. Even if it's just with my dance."
Leo didn't reply, but something darkened in his eyes.
This girl… she wore softness like armor.
Beautiful, but completely unprepared for the world he lived in.
They slowed at a traffic light.
Isabella hesitated, then turned to him, hopeful.
"Umm… would you maybe… like to come tomorrow? Mr Leonardo? "
Leo stiffened.
No one invited him to charity events.
People invited him to funerals.
"You can call me Leo....but...Why would you want me there?"
His voice came out rougher than intended.
Isabella blinked.
"Because you helped me today. And you… you didn't make me uncomfortable."
She fidgeted with her bracelet nervously.
"People usually just tell me I look pretty, take pictures without asking… but you—"
She looked at him with warm eyes.
"You wanted to know why I wore this. Not just how I look in it."
Leo swallowed—hard.
Her sincerity felt sharper than any blade held to his throat.
He didn't answer, but his silence wasn't rejection.
It was something else.
Something dangerous.
Before he could speak,a little boy knocked on the window, arms full of colorful friendship bands.
"Sister! Buy one? It brings Good luck for people too."
Isabella instantly brightened.
"Aww, they're so cute."
She began rolling the window down.
Before Leo could stop her she already rolled her window down with a bog smile.
The boy grinned wide.
"See? Good luck band and friendship band its both! Buy for you, sister!"
Isabella giggled softly and took out money.
"I'll take one."
Leo stared at her like she had done something unimaginable.
She bought street-market friendship bands… willingly.
For no reason.
He couldn't remember the last time someone did something that simple, that pure.
When she rolled the window back up, she turned to him.
"Do you want to buy one too?"
Leo huffed out an unintended laugh.
"I don't have friends."
Isabella blinked, genuinely shocked.
"How is that even possible?"
Leo turned slightly, confused.
She continued with complete sincerity:
"You're good looking… and you seem nice too."
Leo froze.
Nice?
No one—not a single soul—had ever called him nice.
Not even sarcastically.
He turned back to the road, voice low.
"People prefer distance. People run from danger and It's better for them."
She looked at him for a long moment… then turned again back to window .
"That's okay. I'll buy two. Thankyou..." The kid ran with the money and big tip she gave him.
"Mr Leo can you give me your hand?" It was the sweetest his nickname could sound as she called him Leo.
Leo like mesmerized gave his hand to her without even realizing.
She picked a blue band and without hesitation tied it gently around his wrist.
Leo's heart stopped.
"Why?" he whispered.
She smiled softly, adjusting it so it fit perfectly.
"Because you're nice, Mr Leo and I want to be your friend as you help me so much today so who wouldn't wanna be friends with such a nice person."
His breath faltered.
No one—no one—had said such pure innocent words to him like that in years.
No one had dared see goodness in him.
The light turned green.
Leo drove in silence, but the band sat on his wrist like a brand—
possessive, innocent, and unbearably intimate.
As he pulled up in front of her practice hall, Isabella opened the door and stepped out, the bells on her ankles echoing like the start of a storm inside his chest.
She glanced back once.
"See you tomorrow, Mr Leonardo."
Leo watched her walk away…
watched the saree sway…
watched the anklets chime…
watched her disappear into the doorway.
He didn't understand this feeling.
But he knew one thing—
He would come tomorrow.
He had no choice.