The drive out of Mumbai felt like slipping through a crack in reality.
One moment Noah was surrounded by blinding paparazzi lights and suffocating studio schedules; the next, he was staring out the window at rolling fields, coconut trees swaying lazily, and the crimson glow of a countryside sunset.
Aarush drove in quiet confidence, one hand steady on the wheel, the other occasionally tapping rhythmically on his thigh. He was relaxed here—Noah could see it in the softened line of his jaw, the way his shoulders settled instead of being locked in their usual tired tension.
“Welcome to the real world,” Aarush murmured, glancing sideways.
Noah smiled faintly. “Feels unreal to me.”
“It’s where I grew up. Not much glamour here.”
“Glamour exhausts me,” Noah said softly, head leaning against
