A Love So True

Season 2 : Chapter 17

Hey my dear readers ,

I'm back with another chapter 🤗♥️

Wattpad is being bratty ; I'm not being able to read comments properly.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Btw , I won't be able to update anything until 29 th July . I have exams 🥱

Enjoy the chapter

Love y'all ♥️

The school gate buzzed gently with early morning chatter—The air was slightly cool, the golden light of morning sun filtering softly through the scattered trees lining the outer wall of the campus. Parents stood around , some already bidding rushed goodbyes, others lingering for a few more seconds of shared smiles with their children.

Ishan crouched in front of Ivan, adjusting his tie one last time, brushing back an unruly strand of hair, and kissing his son’s forehead.

Ivan gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before joining the line of students heading toward the gates.

As Ivan disappeared beyond the threshold, Ishan stood still for a moment, eyes following him long after he had vanished into the crowd. His thoughts drifted, far away, eyes slightly glazed with memories not yet named.

“ Ishan baba ?” a voice called from behind, jolting him gently out of his daze.

Ishan turned, startled, to find their family driver a few steps behind, having come up from the parking area which was set a little distance away from the main school gate. 

“Shall I bring the car here now?”

Ishan shook off the last thread of reverie, blinking away his thoughts. “ Haan ” he replied softly, voice calm but clear. “I need to buy a few things. Let’s head to that 9-11 store we always go to.”

The old driver nodded respectfully and turned to lead the way.Ishan followed him.

The Gill family never really needed to go out for these small errands. Everything from imported snacks to antique trinkets could be delivered with a single call. 

Ishan knew this wasn’t necessary.

The Gill household ran like a private empire—every need handled, every preference catered. There were staff for groceries, stylists for clothing, sommeliers for wine.

And yet... Ishan never could let go of his old habits.

He likes the mundane. The ordinary. The human.

He likes....

Picking the freshest vegetables from the early morning markets.

Sitting quietly in a quaint, aesthetic café tucked inside an old Bandra alley, sipping sweet filter coffee while losing himself in a well-worn copy of his favorite author’s latest book.

Discovering an unknown bakery tucked between two buildings on a nameless lane in SoBo—one that made strawberry shortcake the way he used to have a lot in his college days.

Spending hours flipping through dusty piles in an old bookstore in Fort.

Bargaining for vintage vinyl records from the footpath stalls at Churchgate, smiling politely at the old seller who always threw in a bonus cassette.

But nothing ever compared to the magic of Mumbai’s late spring , when the city bathed in Gulabi bahar —blossoms spilling like pink confetti across the streets.