A hesitant Truce

The next ten minutes felt like an eternity. Ishan kept glancing toward the north, where he expected his pretend husband to appear. His fingers fidgeted nervously, and his mind raced with anxious thoughts.

‘Come on, Aryan! I can’t let Mama Carmen feel poor in front of her own daughter', Ishan thought, his heart pounding.

Just five minutes ago, he frantically tried to take off the floral gown, desperate to return it to its rightful owner.

When Carmen had asked why, he had stammered out, “I-It’s for Elena… she should wear it.”

But Carmen had stopped him, her eyes soft and understanding.

"For today, I have two daughters," she had said, cupping his cheeks gently. "I can’t snatch this away from one to give it to the other."

Now, Ishan stood outside the salon, his anxiety mounting. He cursed himself under his breath.

'I’m a stupid fuck. Running away without even taking the credit card. How was I supposed to get back to India? On my fucking feet?'

Before he could spiral further, a voice from behind made him freeze.

“Hola, señorita.”

In front of him stood a Spanish guy in his early twenties, around Ishan’s age. His arms were covered in tattoos, and his rugged appearance made him look like a street thug—someone Ishan would typically avoid.

But the guy’s calm, concerned expression didn’t match his intimidating looks.

"Are you okay?"The guy said in a surprisingly gentle voice. " Do you need any help?"

“Uh—n-no, I’m fine,” Ishan stammered, thrown off by the contradiction between the man's appearance and demeanor.

The stranger studied him for a moment, eyes flickering over his worried expression and restless fingers.

"The neighborhood isn’t safe," the guy continued, his voice still calm. "And my girlfriend is here if you’d be more comfortable talking to her"

He gestured toward a young woman standing a few feet away. Ishan’s eyes widened when he realized it was Elena, Carmen’s daughter.

Ishan’s eyes widened. He had spent the last hour thinking this guy was some good-for-nothing delinquent who had stolen Elena away from her mother.

But now, seeing the way he looked at her—soft, patient, devoted—Ishan felt his assumptions shatter..

Just then, Carmen stepped out of the salon, her face lighting up as she called out, "¡Elena!"

"Mamá!" Elena rushed to her mother, tears streaming down her face. "I’m sorry, Mamá."

"Está bien, mi niña," Carmen said, hugging her daughter tightly. ("It’s okay, my little girl.") "You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“You know,” Elena sniffed, pulling back slightly, “when Joel heard it was your birthday, he canceled all his plans and brought me straight here.”

She turned  planting a kiss on Joel’s lips.. “He’s really the sweetest guy.”

Carmen’s face softened, but she still eyed Joel with a bit of skepticism.

Ishan had heard enough from Carmen earlier to know she wasn’t exactly thrilled about her daughter’s tattooed boyfriend.

But Joel only smiled.

"I’m sorry, Mamá Carmen," Joel said, his voice sincere. "I didn’t know it was your birthday."

He handed her a small piece of micro-art, a delicate miniature with the word Mamá engraved on it. "I never knew my own mother. All I had was a woman in foster care who... well, let’s just say she wasn’t kind." His voice cracked as he continued,

“The foster people, they made me sell drugs before I even knew what they were,” he continued, his dark eyes fixated on the miniature carving in his hands.

“I was just a kid, man. Nine, maybe ten. I didn't ask questions. I just ran packages from one place to another. If I messed up? I got beat. If I refused? Well, I learned not to refuse.”

“But I never touched that shit myself. Never let it get inside me,” Joel said, lifting his head slightly, as if daring anyone to doubt him. “I saw too many kids OD before they even hit thirteen. I wasn’t gonna be one of them.”

“When I got out, I pushed myself. Studied hard. Kept my head down. Top of my damn class.”

Ishan blinked, caught off guard. This guy? The one Carmen had painted as some street thug? He was top of his class?

Joel smirked slightly at Ishan’s expression, like he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't really fit the picture, does it?" He lifted his arm, gesturing to the tattoos, the scars, the life that had been etched into his skin.

"But I worked my ass off to make it happen. And through all of it, I had one thing keeping me sane—this.", he said, pointing to the miniature, "is my first piece. It’s a Virgin Mary with Mamá written on it. I wanted to give it to a real mother."

Carmen’s eyes filled with tears as she hugged Joel tightly. "Gracias, hijo," she whispered. ("Thank you, son.")

Elena, noticing Ishan standing awkwardly to the side, asked Carmen about him. Carmen introduced him as Radhika, twisting his backstory to protect his secret.

“She’s Radhika,” she said smoothly. “A young woman who had her first big fight on her honeymoon… and who gave an old mother some company when she needed it the most.”

Ishan gaped at Carmen.

Damn. That woman was smooth.

Before he could react, Joel stepped forward.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. Then, in a gesture of old-fashioned chivalry, he lifted Ishan’s hand and kissed the back of it.

Just as Ishan was about to respond, a voice thundered from behind.

"Don’t you dare touch my wife!" Aryan’s voice was sharp and commanding, cutting through the air like a blade.

Ishan turned to see Aryan wheeling himself forward, his presence radiating authority despite his wheelchair. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, the fabric sticking to his chest in places, as if he had been out in the sun for too long.

His forearms, usually steady, trembled faintly as he gripped the wheels, and his jaw was set in a hard line. His eyes, though fierce, were rimmed with a faint redness, the kind that comes from exhaustion—or perhaps something more.

‘Has he been crying?’, Ishan thought to himself.

In one swift motion, Aryan grabbed Joel by the collar, his strength surprising everyone, including Ishan. The intensity in his eyes was unmistakable—a mix of anger, relief, and something deeper, something raw.

Ishan found himself staring at the bulging veins on Aryan’s hands, the way his muscles tensed as he held Joel in place.

His eyes trailed up to the sweat glistening on Aryan’s neck, the faint stubble along his jawline. Something stirred inside Ishan—a warmth he hadn’t felt before, a flutter in his chest that made his breath hitch.

Okay, what the hell is this? Ishan thought, his brain short-circuiting.

Why am I noticing how good he looks right now? Is it the sweat? Is it the veins? Is it the whole “protective husband” vibe? Oh no. Oh no no no. Am I... am I into this?

He shook his head, trying to snap out of it.

'No, Ishan, you’re not into this. You’re just... appreciating aesthetics. Just like every guy has slight crush on Hrithik and Henry cavil. This is fine. Totally fine.'

But then Aryan adjusted his grip on Joel, his biceps flexing, and Ishan’s brain went completely offline.

Okay, maybe I’m 10% into this. But that’s it! 10% is practically straight. Right? Right?!

He quickly snapped out of it, realizing the situation infront of him was more concerning than his sexuality was escalating.

"It’s okay, Aryan!" Ishan said, stepping between them. "He was just trying to help me."

Aryan’s grip on Joel loosened, but his eyes remained sharp.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice low. He looked at Ishan, his brows raised. "But you said you needed my help. What was that all about?"

Ishan quickly explained how he had met Carmen, the salon makeover, and how Joel had brought Elena back because he realized how important it was for Carmen.

"I just wanted my credit card back so I could pay for Carmen and Elena’s mother-daughter day," Ishan admitted, his voice tinged with guilt.

"I didn’t want Carmen to feel like she couldn’t give her daughter the day she deserved."

Aryan’s expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh before turning to Joel. "Sorry for earlier," he said sincerely.

"It’s okay, man. I’m used to the stares because of how I look.” Joel shook Aryan’s hand, a small smile playing on his lips “But I’m happy Mrs. Radhika has a kind and protective husband like you."

The blush on Aryan’s face was unmistakable. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, and turned to Carmen.

"Thank you for taking care of my wife," he said, his voice genuine. "I’m glad she had someone like you to lean on today."

"Oh, it was my pleasure", Carmen chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "But let me tell you, your wife spent half the time looking out the window, hoping to see you. It was quite sweet, actually."

Aryan’s eyes flicked to Ishan, who immediately looked down, his cheeks burning.

For a moment, their eyes met, and a spark passed between them—something neither of them had felt before. It was fleeting but undeniable, leaving them both momentarily speechless.

To break the tension, Aryan pulled out his phone. "Let me fix this," he said, dialing a number.

Within minutes, he had booked appointments at the most expensive salon and shopping mall in the area for Carmen and Elena. "Consider it a birthday gift from your other daughter," he said with a smile.

"No my son", Carmen tried rejecting his offer, but ishan held her hands and said "Its from me, Mama Carmen"

"Thank you", carmen said tearing as she cupped his cheeks.

Joel joined in smiling warmly. "I’m throwing a little party for Mama Carmen tonight at the beach. You two should come."

. "Wait, is this the beach I saw from our villa?"

Ishan’s eyes lit up "The one with the golden sand and the palm trees?"

Aryan nodded, his tone cautious but softer than before. "Yeah, that’s the one." He hesitated, glancing at Ishan. "We can go... if you want. I mean, it might be... nice."

Ishan crossed his arms, his voice still sharp but less biting. "Nice? After everything you said, you think a beach party is going to fix things?"

Aryan’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. "I’m not saying it’ll fix anything. I just... thought it might be something to do. Together."

He paused, his eyes flicking to Ishan’s face. "If you’re up for it."

Ishan studied him for a moment, his anger wavering. He could tell Aryan was trying, even if he wasn’t saying the words Ishan wanted to hear.

Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Let’s go. But don’t think this means I’m not still mad at you."

Aryan’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gave a small nod. "Fair enough."

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Hi readers this chapter is little longer because I know how much we are all waiting for these love bird to finally jump into it.

So I am speeding up things, Give your idea as to what I can write in the sunset beach dinner... Anything that make them closer and happy... ( And fuck each other Raw😈)....

I promise you that this night Would be the last night for Ishan's Virginity.