Italy our new destination - Behir FF New Chapter 10 LAST updated - Page 2

Nice update dear
So Andy has some hand about bela left job.
Mahir should write to her.
Now they are going to Rome
Waiting for their meeting
Update soon please
Thanks

Really beautiful!!! Keep it up.

Hey guys thanks for all the lovely comments .. Here is chapter 3 hope you all will like it.. And i am slowly revealing through flashbacks about what really happened between bela and mahir. And why she left the company.

Chapter 3

Bela clutched her passport, her ticket stub stuffed between the pages as she followed the signs toward customs at Leonardo da Vinci Fiumicino Airport. Lining up behind an eclectic mix of travelers, Bela looked at her passport photo again.

"La Sua passaporto." The voice startled her, waking her from her thoughts.

"Oh, right. Here you go," she slid the passport under the window. The guard flipped to her photo page, looked up at her and back down at the picture. He took his stamp and with a heavy hand brought it down on one of the many blank pages.

"Benvenuto. Welcome," he said giving a quick smile. He handed back her passport and pointed her toward the baggage carousel.

She nodded, shifting the shoulder strap of her bag. "Grazie," she smiled. Her Lonely Planet phrasebook was already coming in handy.

As she waited for the carousel to bring her luggage, crushed between travelers, she opened her passport to page twelve. There, within a small blue square was the date, an outline of a plane and the name "FIUMICINO".

She had arrived. The city that had in part birthed classical architecture and the finest artwork in history had now given her the first stamp in her passport.

...

Shortly after arriving in Rome, Anu and Mahir had successfully hailed their first Italian taxi. Despite an obvious communication barrier, Anu had managed to use what broken Italian she knew to ask their driver to take them to the Hotel Aurelius.

The small hotel was located off of the longest road in Rome, Via Aurelia. A travel website had promised a short distance to Vatican City and central Rome. They had booked with the hotel in part because of its simplistic brick framed entrance and reasonable rates. Upon arrival they discovered a quaint, yet comfortable lobby where issues of the daily newspaper, La Repubblica, lay strewn about. To the left of the lobby, down a small flight of stairs, was a simple breakfast lounge. Red chairs were tucked under yellow flowered tablecloths and fake grape vines hung from the ceiling, giving the impression of a Roman vineyard.

With a wink, the hotel representative had given them 2 keys to their rooms.

Anu heaved her suitcase onto the bed in their hotel room, its weight causing her to fall next to it.

"This country is really hot in August," she declared, fanning herself, leaning up from the bed. Seeing Mahir entering her room she says : "Is there a window we can open?"

Mahir turned, looking around her tiny room. "Where would they even put a window?" Laughing, he added, "There's a door, though."

"This is looking pretty miserable," she grimaced, sitting on their small double bed as mahir headed into the bathroom.

"You're going to die when you see this," he called out.

"Don't even tell me... does it at least have a toilet?" Anu groaned, closing her eyes, afraid of his answer.

"Definitely has a toilet." Mahir's voice hid a slight chuckle. "But it's right below the showerhead."

"What?" Anu leapt up and ran into the washroom, pushing her small frame past Mahir. Sure enough, the showerhead was placed directly above the toilet.

"What happens when you shower?" She asked, eyebrows raised in annoyance. "Does it go into the toilet?"

"I guess you could close the lid...?" Mahir laughed. "This is going to be seriously interesting."

How is your room? Anu asked. It's exactly like yours. Mahir said.

"We've got to get out of here," Anu declared, grabbing her travel guide. "I don't even want to think about the toilet that doubles as a shower."

As Anu headed out the door, Mahir patted his pocket. The ring was safely tucked away in his cargo shorts, ready to appear at the perfect moment.

Bela quickly flipped through her phrasebook. Throughout the seven hour flight, whatever time she hadn't spent sleeping she had spent memorizing Italian phrases. She knew she had passed by a section on taxis and now at the moment she needed it most, it was nowhere to be found.

"Signorina?" called out the driver.

"Um...err," she stalled, the pages bending as she fervently searched. "Uno... um...una..."

"Where to?" the driver finally asked, his words affected by his accent.

"Oh!" Bela exclaimed. "You speak English!" She glanced down at her travel information. "Uh... Hotel Parco Tirreno. Via Aurelia."

"Si."

The car swerved in and out Rome's traffic, eclipsing speeds that Bela was sure were beyond any reasonable local limit. She clutched the head rest of the passenger seat in front of her, afraid that her first trip abroad might just be her last.

Eventually the taxi slowed as it approached a small single lane that wound up a hill. It was protected by an automatic barrier, monitored by hotel security. The driver rolled down his window, navigating their entry in a blur of Italian; Bela watched as the barrier lifted. Her eyes widened as the trees and greenery cleared and she began to see the face of her temporary home.

Parco Tirreno certainly exceeded her expectations. Not having had the time to search the internet for an image of the hotel, she arrived in Rome with only an address. The hotel resembled something she'd seen in films. Surely there wasn't anything similar to it in either Mumbai or Buffalo. The front entrance was shaded by palm trees, their fronds reaching skyward. A lovely terrace sat to the left, protecting the outdoor furniture with several awnings. An alluring garden was just in front, surrounding a small pond with a three tiered fountain that sprayed a stream of water.

As she pulled her luggage behind her, she found it difficult to control her excitement. She was in Rome and at a beautiful hotel that she never would have dreamed of staying in, much less be able to afford. The automatic doors slid open, a rush of cool air greeting her.

"Buongiorno," said a voice from behind a capacious desk. His smile welcomed her, his black hotel uniform pressed and immaculate.

"Hi. I have a reservation. Bela Sharma."

"Si. One minute, I'll pull up your information."

Bela gazed around the lobby; three beautiful orange and green sofas sat below a large window with a view to the front gardens. A large map of Rome covered another wall, historical locations brightly identified by cartoon renderings. Bela's excitement continued to grow; she desperately wanted to stow her suitcase in her room so she could explore the city immediately.

The clerk tore a page from a computer print out and had her sign the hotel confirmation. Once she'd confirmed the credit card information, he handed her a door key card.

"Room 450. The elevator is down the hall."

"Thank you," she said. As Bela was about to turn away from the counter, a thought occurred to her. "Excuse me? Sorry..." she began meekly. "I was wondering if there was a computer or the internet I could use."

"Si. We have a computer here in the lobby. But its internetis not working today. There is an internet caf just down Aurelia, before Piazza San Giovanni." He reached down and pulled out a stack of maps. Tearing a page from the pile, he circled the piazza.

"Parco Tirreno here," he said pointing with his pen to a blue dot marked Parco Tirreno. "Internet Caf, l," his pen made a sharp arrow to the piazza. "Simple, no?"

"Yes, grazie." She smiled, folded up the map and stuffed it into her satchel. Her heart beat quickly as she headed toward the elevators, ready to begin her Roman adventure.

...

Mahir craned his neck, his eyes thirsty, drinking in the scenes that had five hundred years ago been so lovingly hand painted by the many talented artists of Rome's history.

Michelangelo, Perugino, Botticelli, Rossellini...

Every inch seemed to be covered; each fresco's brilliant colours having recently been restored to their original splendor. The long wait outside of the Vatican walls had certainly proven to be worthwhile.

"Silencio!"

Every so often, the noise level in the chapel would rise as travelers and visitors became increasingly excited with the artistry that surrounded them. A Swiss guardsman, clad in a ridiculous uniform of red, yellow and blue, chastised the onlookers, reminding them that it was indeed the Sistine Chapel and ultimately a place of worship.

"Look," he whispered to Anu, pointing to a large painting hung from a lower tier in the room. "It's Perugino's 'Christ giving the Key to St. Peter'. You totally can see the old Vatican and everything. See the guy on the right, with the black cap? That's supposedly Perugino."

"How do you know that?"

How did he know that? In his distant past, when he'd been blind and foolish, there had been a time where he would pick up a book on art- any book- and just absorb it. He wanted to learn everything, devour every detail, wanted to know what she knew. He wanted to amaze her with his knowledge of classical paintings, Flemish artwork and Grecian sculptures. At the time it had been a way to show that he was different, that he loved what she loved, loved her more than anyone else. Now, looking back, it had likely been a childish endeavor; but there was something about the chapel. He could almost see her sitting on one of the small benches off to the side, crushed between camera-laden tourists, her sketch pad on her lap, her pencil strokes quick and precise.

He smiled at the thought and for a brief moment and wished that he could share a room with Bela. He wished he could stare at her as she breathed in all the details. Surely her eyes would be wide, her neck arched toward the ceiling. Michelangelo's artistry would likely attract her interest first. Its incredible beauty and symbolism would not be lost on her. There, high above, was God, reaching out to man; not quite touching, yet united at the same time.

"Earth to Mahir?"

"I guess I must have read it somewhere," he said finally.

Two men came to Anu and Mahir. They were going to have a meeting in the art gallery.

"Hello, I am Benjamin and this is Rahul. We hope you both had a nice flight.

"Yes of course it was great. Mahir said. We are really looking forward for this meeting. "Same here said Rahul. "Let's go upstairs to our office.

...

As excited as she was to begin exploring the city and to begin sketching the history that surrounded her, it was still Monday. And every Monday she was drawn back into her old habit.

Inside the internet caf she found rows of computers, most of them occupied by an assortment of tourists. Bela selected one near the front window and slid three Euros into the coin slot.

Like previous Mondays, she logged into Facebook, the process having long become mechanical. The irony was not lost on her. There she was in Rome, yet still thinking of Mahir. She led the cursor to the "Search" box and typed in his name, always lower case: Mahir Seghal.

Within seconds the list of familiar Mahir Seghals from across the world flooded the screen. Like before, Bela scrolled the list, expecting nothing new. As she drew the cursor down, her hand froze, her heart stopped, her mouth suddenly dry.

She stared at the photo, his name bolded. His face staring back at her, it was a photo from when he had dressed up as Ajitabh several years back as a prank. His hair was parted in the middle, oversized glasses perched on his nose; the yellow short sleeved shirt that in any other circumstance would have made her laugh at the memory. Only today, as she sat in the internet caf, she was in stunned silence.

Her mouth hung open, her eyes not daring to tear away from the photo. Her heart pounded in her chest. For a year she had been waiting for his profile to appear. For so long, she had been waiting for this moment. But instead of the elation she had expected, she felt nervous. Her heart threatened to leap from her chest, her throat felt like it was going to close in on her. She bit her lower lip, now dry, and perched her hands over the keyboard.

Half of her wanted to click the red box in the corner of the screen and forget the moment had even happened. The other half prompted her to message him, "poke" him, add him as a "friend," anything- to do something.

Instead she just stared. She stared at the ridiculously disguised face that smiled at her. It had been that smile that had haunted her dreams, her thoughts and her very existence on what had seemed like a daily basis. She had refused dates with men because of that smile, his kindness, gentleness, patience that had gotten her through her days at Seghal Company. She was staring at the man whom she had, in part, broken up her engagement to Vikrant. It felt surreal.

She exhaled and did the only thing she could do: she clicked on the link that allowed her to see his "friends." She didn't know what to expect by clicking that link. She swallowed hard, wanting to cringe; it was as though the next moment could possibly hurt her physically. The slow internet connection revealed the list of his friends, their pictures gradually appearing.

Mahir couldn't have been registered at the site for more than a week. Yet, as she expected, he had almost 15 names listed. She saw some familiar faces: kuhu and yuvi, some others she assumed were relatives because of their shared last name. But there were a few she didn't recognize. There was a slender brunette, her long hair tossed to the side, standing on a beach, a margarita glass clutched in one hand. There was a leggy blonde, her photo looking like it could be the next cover of InStyle magazine. As Bela continued to scroll, she saw another, more familiar, darker haired woman.

Her eyes started to sting, tears beginning to force their way through. This photo was different from the other two. In this photo she saw Mahir's profile. The same profile she had stared at for five years. The very profile she would sneak glances at when he was deep in thought or was working. The exact profile that she wished she could kiss, touch, run her hands softly along the afternoon stubble. But instead, she was looking at the profile that had never been hers. His head was tilted against the side of another woman's head; with his eyes closed, it was apparent that he was very much in love with Anu Mittal.

Bela had seen that look before, in another lifetime. She had seen that look in a darkened office, while she leaned against a solid oak desk, her hands having just clutched the rings of the telephone cord. She had seen that look again on the deck of a boat, far out on a Lake while her hands were tucked deep into her winter coat. She had seen that look in the kitchen at Seghal Company, as she'd prodded him, trying to make him lose a game of jinx.

It was now very apparent, very clear that she was no longer the owner of that look.

Wow!!! Really nice!! 👏

Nice update dear
Loved it
Continue soon please
Thanks

Hey guys... Thank you for all the lovely comments.. 😛😛 Here is next chapter.. hope you all will like it.

Chapter 4

Anu and mahir had finished their two meetings. And now they both thought that finally they could explore Italy together.

Cavalli, Fendi, Chanel, Hermes... their signs littered Via Condotti, pulling fashionista tourists into their immaculate shops. Anu was generally aloof when discussions of fashion were broached at Seghal Company; she'd often rebuked Kuhu's suggestions for a shopping day at Steamtown Mall, reasoning that it only succeeded in reinforcing feminine stereotypes.

Mahir could barely restrain his laughter as he watched her with her back to the imposing Spanish Steps, pointing in awe at the perfectly tailored jackets, blouses and pants that were on display in the windows.

"Did you want to go into the stores?" He asked, knowing her answer before her head bobbed excitedly.

"It's stupid, isn't it?"

"Not stupid. I was just curious when my girlfriend turned into a shopaholic." It was all he could do to keep his teasing smile under control.

"It is stupid. I'm turning into one those girls that wants an Hermes scarf and a pair of Cavalli boots," she frowned. "You'll be okay by yourself for a while?"

"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "Go, have fun. Shop. Be a girl. I'll meet you at the Barcaccia fountain at seven?"

"Perfect," she raised herself onto the balls of her feet and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Behave yourself. I don't want to find out you've convinced the Polizia that Ajitabh is a threat to national security."

With a smile, he promised. Satisfied, Anu turned and went into the first store on her left, wasting no time.

Now alone, Mahir debated whether to venture to climb the steps that beckoned him from a distance. He squinted in the sunlight as he looked up at the church that sat at the top of the steps. Its obelisk pointed skyward, sandwiched by two bell towers. He'd heard that the view from the top of the Spanish Steps was a sight to behold. The red hues of the buildings nearby- their thatched roofs and the hundreds of flowers that aligned the steps- were a tourist's dream. The myriad teenagers milling about, were not.

Mahir sighed, his exhaustion beginning to set in. Their excursion into the nearby Vatican City left him mentally and physically drained. The incredible illusions to the eye that the Basilica held still occupied his thoughts; the images of Michelangelo's paintings, the complexity of the Last Judgment and the images of the souls of mankind ascending and descending to their respective fates, still haunted him.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed an internet caf., He thought it best to check his email while he waited for Anu.

...

Bela stared at the computer screen, her body frozen, rigid as her thoughts cascaded in a thousand directions. She wanted to close the screen, wanted to make contact, wanted to run, wanted to stay... it was too complicated; it was difficult to even think clearly.

A part of her had long wondered what it would be like to finally see his profile on Facebook, to reconnect with him after so long. She never would have imagined that it would have left her this frightened, this shaken.

She pulled at her necklace charm, running it across its chain, thinking back to the day that had given her the resolve to leave Mumbai- and ultimately Mahir- in the first place.

It had been a Friday night; she'd had to stay late faxing a litany of papers to corporate that Andy had decided to sign last minute. At one time staying that late would have annoyed her. By that point though, her Friday nights had consisted of sitting on the couch, a box of take-out on her table and "The Princess Bride" in the DVD player. When she'd finished faxing, she had headed to Andy's cabin to leave him copies of one of the documents. Before she'd even reached the alcove, she'd heard Mahir's laugh, its ebb always as entrancing as its surge. She'd frozen on the spot, clutching the papers so hard that she later had to iron out the creases.

"So I'm parent approved, huh?" Asked Mahir, his voice, teasing.

"Mmhm. Would it totally weird you out if I told you that they said that you were good husband material?" Anu asked, with a hint of flirtation.

"Good husband material? Wow. I must have made a real impression then."

"An excellent impression, and not just on them..." she'd added, her voice lowering into a purr. A pause in the conversation caused Bela's eyes to widen, afraid to move in fear of making a sound that indicated she had been eavesdropping all along, that she'd been a witness to their intimate moment.

"I'm gonna have to throw that right back at you Anu." His voice had lowered significantly, causing the colour to drain from Bela's face.

"I love you so much." Anu's voice came in a gasp. Bela's head began to pulse.

"Right back at you..."

In one abrupt motion, Bela raced from her concealed location, not caring if she made any noise, not caring if they knew she'd been listening. She'd tossed the papers on her desk, grabbed her purse, keys and coat, and ran from the office.

That night the take-out box sat on her kitchen counter, unopened. The DVD remained in its case. Instead, her living room carpet was littered with used Kleenex, wet and crumbled. When she'd awoken the next morning, lying on her sofa, her eyes burned, feeling heavy and spent. By Monday she found herself in Andy's cabin filling out paperwork. By Tuesday Andy had called, encouraging her to give it another chance. By Friday her desk was empty of personal items, having slowly and secretly brought them home throughout the week.

Now, three years later she sat at a computer in an internet caf, an ocean away, the same insecurities plaguing her.

Bela took a deep breath and returned to his profile photo. She led her cursor to the link that read "Send Message." A new page opened, waiting for her to take the chance and reconnect.

To: Mahir Seghal

Subject: Shake it

Message:

Hey

Imagine my shock to find you on Facebook. I always thought you were more evolved than that. (Obviously this is my lame attempt at making an awkward opening joke.)

I was just on a plane (I know! I'm a world traveler now! Maybe I've evolved too LOL). Anyway, there was this crazy old man sitting next to me who was shaking his asthma inhaler so hard that I thought it was going to fly right out of his hand and hit the lady behind us. I wanted so desperately to say what I was thinking, which was: "stop shaking that like a crazy person." But I'll give you one guess what I said instead.

Bela

With hands shaking, she moved the cursor to the blue "Send" square below her message. She clicked the button and exhaled, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. Bela leaned back in the plastic chair, staring at the screen. She clasped and unclasped her hands, which were cold to the fingertips.

She clicked on the link to her Facebook "Home" page where it would remind her that she lacked a proper profile and that she could invite friends via their email accounts. When the page had finally loaded, a slight change caught her eye.

Inbox (1)

Her heart pounded in her ears. It could only be one person who had sent her a message. There was a small chance it could be her sister, an even smaller chance it could be Kuhu or her secretary; but the timing was just too coincidental.

She clicked on the "Inbox" link.

Her suspicions had been correct. There he was: his face masked by oversized glasses, his hair parted. His name alone sent a rush of nerves to her stomach.

With a hesitant hand, she opened the message.

Mahir Seghal:

Bela!

You on a plane? I don't believe it. You have definitely evolved. :)

It's been far too long. I'm really happy you messaged me.

My guess is that you told him to shake it like a Polaroid picture.

Mahir

Her face broke out in a smile, her throbbing heart now swelled with anticipation. Without missing a beat, she moved her fingers across the keyboard, typing in the reply box.

Reply:

I'm happy you messaged me back. :) I was afraid you wouldn't.

I, in fact, told him to shake it like a salt shaker.

Yes. I am a dork.

Bela

She clicked the "Send" box, her message delivered to him instantaneously. It always amazed her that despite distance, despite time and despite their history, they could always find themselves laughing over the same things. It was almost like nothing had happened, and they were back to their old selves.

She waited a couple of minutes, busying herself with the sketch pad she'd pulled from her bag. Her doodles were sloppy, hindered by her excitement over her Facebook exchange with Mahir.

She refreshed the page and discovered that he had, as expected, replied.

Mahir Seghal:

Shake it like a salt shaker? The Ying Yang Twins have nothing on you.

I was afraid I wouldn't reply either. I'm glad I did.

It's strange; I saw Michelangelo's Last Judgment today and thought of you. I wondered what you'd have said about Michelangelo painting himself into the face of St. Bartholomew's skin. Pretty gross. Sort of like 28 Days Later, no? ;-)

Mahir

Reply:

LOL! Really gross, that's for sure.

Michelangelo was the ultimate prankster, lemme tell you. When one of the Pope's people said that it was disgusting to have so many nude images on an altar, Michelangelo went and painted the guy being rowed into hell.

Pretty cool, huh?

Bela

P.S. Nothing is as gross as 28 Days Later. Not even flayed skin.

Mahir Seghal:

But did Michelangelo put a guy's stapler in jello? I think not.

This is probably the wrong time to ask this- but I'm going to anyway.

Why did you leave the company?

Mahir

...

Once he'd typed the message and hit send, he knew that it had been a mistake. Here he was in an internet caf in Rome and had finally heard from Bela after all these years. Now he was sure he was succeeding in alienating her again.

He looked at his watch and realized that he'd have to meet Anu shortly. A quick mental calculation reminded him that it was roughly 1pm in Buffalo. Bela was probably sitting at her desk at work, busy being the successful artist that he imagined her to be.

As much as he missed her and their friendship, he was ultimately proud of her for taking a risk. He knew that some of the people at Seghal Company criticized her lack of courage, but he'd never doubted her. She would be successful at whatever she did; of that he was certain.

He refreshed the page one last time, and saw that Bela had replied.

Bela Sharma:

Some things just became clearer. Couldn't stand to watch.

Bela

The time in the corner of the screen reminded him that Anu would be waiting at the fountain for him. He couldn't continue this discussion like he wished. Bela's message had been too cryptic; he had too many questions to ask her. What couldn't she stand to watch?

Reply:

What became clearer?

It was already well after seven and he didn't want Anu to be waiting in the piazza for him much longer. Shaking his head, he logged out. He would have to find another opportunity to find out what Bela was referring to. Mahir's internet on phone was not working well, because of the area that he was in always had internet problems when it comes to use it on the phone. Mahir thought wow good specially know where I needed the internet most.

He left the caf and in the shadows of the darkening street, he could see Anu in the distance waiting for him, the Barcaccia fountain just behind her. She smiled and waved with difficulty, her numerous shopping bags weighing her hands down.

Nice update dear
Continue soon please

It is superb... waiting for d next part...

Thank you all for the lovely comments 😊
Chapter 5 coming soon.

Here you go .. Next chapter 😊

Chapter 5

Bela's pencil raced across her page, her eyes darting up to the sculptures and back down into her lap. All around her tourists pushed and shoved, angling for the best view, the best photograph. Young lovers posed before the Baroque masterpiece; children raced to the fountain splashing water from the ledge. A Roman centurion offered to pose for photographs, only six Euros.

Yesterday she had wasted much of the night waiting in the internet caf, refreshing the page, hoping for Mahir's reply. In the end, she had to force herself to walk away. Now less twenty Euros, she was certain he was avoiding returning her message.

After a breakfast of focaccia and bocconcini, Bela slipped her bag over one shoulder and vowed to keep Mahir out of her thoughts. She was working on a deadline and had very little sketches or architectural ideas to take back to Buffalo. She needed to focus on her drawings as she had been handpicked to be the one to create the design for the Lenox. It was important that she didn't disappoint.

A jostling ride on the metro to Barberini station left her a good walking distance from where she needed to be. Armed with her sketch book and map, she briskly headed down Via del Tritone toward Trevi Fountain.

When she'd taken the shortcut through Via Poli she hadn't expected to turn a corner and be faced with the absolute brilliance that lay before her. There, nestled between two tall official looking buildings- their cream stucco finish juxtaposing the silky white marble- stood Neptune.

It took her breath away. Never in her life had she been witness to such perfection. Neptune's leg muscles, torso and the curls of his beard were all clearly defined. Two tritons restrained the winged horses pulling Neptune's shell chariot. Abundance and Salubrity bid health and well being from each side. Chiseled centuries ago by Bernini and Nicola Salvi, the intricate details made the stationary characters seemingly leap up from their watery home.

Bela had quickly found a seat on a cement ledge facing the fountain and began to sketch vigorously. Her fingertips and the side of her hand were blackened from rubbing against the pencil marks on her paper. She was so focused and concentrated as the morning waned that she hadn't noticed the piazza become increasingly crowded, tour groups largely populating the area.

"Has anyone seen La Dolce Vita?" Asked one of the tour guides. "Great. Well I don't recommend you dance in the water. We don't need anyone getting arrested."

Bela felt herself smile as she listened; tucking her pencil into the coils of her sketch pad, she figured it was time she took a short break.

"Well legend has it that if you throw one coin into the fountain you'll return to Rome. Throw two coins and you'll find love in Rome." Romantic sighs came from her largely female audience as they juggled to retrieve coins from their purses and pockets. "Whatever you do- don't throw three. Otherwise you're looking at divorce." A tittering of laughter came from her group. "Use your right hand and toss it over your left shoulder," she instructed.

Members of the tour group jostled for a position on the ledge; several asked their friends to take a photo of them as they launched their coins. Bela looked down at her sketch; she flipped to a new page pulling her pencil from the pad's coil.

Lightly, she brushed the lead tip in long strokes across the page. Unlike the last image, this one was less focused on the sculpture. Instead, she found herself drawing a seated figure in front of the fountain. Its curly hair pulled half up, a portion of bangs falling slightly into the figure's freckled face. One hand held up a coin and a pair of Keds rested just in front of the ledge. Having completed the figure itself, she turned her attention to the background, creating a small burst of water, which leapt up indicating a coin having been tossed.

Two coins and you'll find love in Rome...

Bela reached into her pocket and pulled out two Euro coins. She turned them over in her hand, clutching and loosening them, running her thumb over their raised texture. Biting her bottom lip, she rose from her cement seat and slipped her way through the crowd toward the fountain. She turned, facing away from Neptune and his chariot. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and threw the coins one at a time over her left shoulder.

Two coins and you'll find love in Rome.

It seemed like an unrealistic promise, but a wish she couldn't resist making.

...

"Seriously, this trip has got to be jinxed," Anu declared as they turned down Via San Vincenzo.

"It's not that big a deal," Mahir reminded her. They had spent much of their trip to the city center trying to decide if they should switch hotel rooms or hotels entirely.

"Mahir, I nearly caused a flood this morning. That is definitely not good."

That morning while Mahir had been in the hotel lobby using their computer and internet, Anu had decided to take a chance on the shower- the sweltering heat of the August sun in Rome forcing her to concede defeat. According to Anu, she had lowered the toilet seat cover and angled the showerhead to spray at a safe distance. Apparently it had not been sufficient. When Mahir suddenly came to her room he found a puddle of water pooling on the terrace. Upon opening the door, he discovered Anu fervently sopping water from the floor around their bed with a towel. If it hadn't been for the dirty look Anu shot at him, he would have found the scene entirely comical.

"The stupid floor must not be angled to the drain," she had said, indignant.

Now, away from the hotel and the mess they'd left behind, Mahir ran his hand lightly across her back. "Relax. The guy at the front desk said that he'll try to put you in another room. Everything's taken care of."

"I know. It's just so damn frustrating. I mean, you come to Rome and expect to have this fantasy vacation. Instead you end up mopping water off the floor of your window-less, sauna of a room."

As Anu continued her tirade, Mahir thought back to the Facebook message he'd received from Bela. It must have come at some point after he'd left the internet caf the day before. Under the guise of searching for an American paper, Mahir had snuck away in order to log into Facebook and ultimately check if Bela had replied.

Mahir Seghal:

What became clearer?

Bela Sharma:

Mumbai became a strange place.

Grape soda became water.

Rolled sleeves became long sleeves.

The prankster became a silent man.

Your cabin became Anu's cabin.

Bela became Anu.

A lot became clearer.

Mahir had sat at the computer desk for what had felt like hours. He rubbed his hands against his face, dug his fingers into the corners of his eyes, and ran them through his hair. He did anything but bring his fingers to the keyboard. He didn't know how to respond to Bela's reply. It was evasive, yet completely clear. She had left because of him. The thought of it plagued him, caused his chest to hurt like it had when she'd left initially. At that moment he foolishly thought that he would give anything to just see her face to face, to apologize- for what he wasn't sure, but he wanted to make things better for them. He wanted to clear the air, to end any misunderstanding once and for all.

But he was in a serious relationship with Anu now, a relationship that was headed toward marriage. He was an ocean away from Buffalo, from mumbai and any perceived relationship with Bela. Her message though, had conjured up too many memories both good and bad. Against his better judgment he had put his fingers to the keyboard and had spoken from his heart.

"Are you even listening to me?" Her voice startled him from his thoughts.

"Hey, look!" He pointed, grateful to have a quick diversion. Anu's shrill look melted as she saw what he pointed at.

"It's incredible."

Their eyes fixated on the scene before them. The white glean of the sun hitting the sculptures creating a luster that amplified the details. The curvature of the cloth wrapped around Neptune's waist, both horses' manes seemingly billowing in the wind. It was all so precise. Its power to captivate was not lost on Mahir or Anu. It silenced them both.

Mahir's eyes soaked in the surroundings of Trevi Fountain. The throngs of tourists milled about, tossing coins into the fountain; some having their photos taken as they posed in front of the sculptures. The many tongues- Italian, English, French and some he didn't even recognize- were all drowned out by the rush of the water thundering over the rocky edges before him.

At that moment, there was a break in the crowd and he saw her.

It couldn't be. It can't be.

Yet, there she was: her hair as he remembered it, the sunlight reflecting off her blackish curls. Her feet clad in those familiar white Keds, her bangs drifting into her eyes as she tossed a coin into the fountain. It was her, it had to be her. But in Rome? The thought seemed ridiculous, impossible even.

He couldn't find his voice but wanted desperately to call her name- to grab her attention. By remaining silent and stunned he risked losing her in the crowds that threatened to swallow her. In an instant, a cluster of fresh tourists blocked his vision, stealing her from him. Before he could will his feet to move, to push through, the crowd had dissipated again and she was gone.

...

The day had quickly escaped from Bela; her sketch book was now filled with many images: some architectural, some artistic, some created from her own imagination. As she walked into the lobby of Parco Tirreno she felt an excited jump in her chest at the thought of what the next day would hold. While snacking on a panino at lunch she had begun to circle possible sites on her map. Her head was filled with the improvements the Lenox would receive upon her return to Buffalo. In her mind she envisioned rooms accented by ionic columns, delicately carved sculptures welcoming guests... the possibilities seemed limitless.

"Scusi? Signorina?"

Bela lifted her eyes from the floor to the clerk at the front desk. "Yes?"

"L'altro ieri... eh... uh, yesterday, you asked for internet. Is working now."

"Oh," she paused, not sure if she wanted to find out what was likely waiting for her. "Thank you... grazie."

Slowly she made her way to the computer desk, dropping her bag next to the chair. Taking a deep breath, she pulled several Euro coins from her pocket and slid them into the dispenser. Within seconds she was granted permission, granted access to discover that which she feared the most. She hardly dared think of what awaited her at that now very familiar website.

Inbox (1)

It stared at her, daring her to open the link and read what he had to say. She would potentially be confronting the past that she had long escaped from.

Mahir seghal:

Bela,

I don't even know where to start. I've probably sat here a good 10 minutes just trying to piece together everything that you've written. It hurt; I'm not going to lie. But I suppose I deserved it.

You have to understand Bela: you left me. You disappeared without saying anything. If you had told me you were going to leave I would have stopped you. I would have done anything, everything I could to stop you. Maybe that's why you didn't tell me...

I know that I have no right to say all this, much less in a message from halfway across the world. But here I am sitting at some stupid computer in some stupid lobby, in a place I probably shouldn't even be in.

I don't know what to do next Bela. Tell me that I'm completely stupid and irrational.

Mahir

It had been so long since she'd last cried over Mahir. She had willed herself these past years to grow up, to forget him, to recognize that she'd been a foolish girl suffering from heartbreak. But now, sitting at the unfamiliar computer, she found herself blinking back tears that were breaking through and threatening to cascade down her cheek.

Mahir's message hadn't been entirely clear, but it certainly opened up numerous possibilities, possibilities that hopefully awaited her back in Mumbai.

Reply:

Where to begin? You're not alone there.

I have a lot to explain and a lot that I should- in all fairness- probably be held accountable for.

Yes, I left without saying goodbye. But it wasn't without reason.

You're still with Anu, aren't you?

Bela

P.S. You've never been stupid and you've definitely never been irrational.

Perhaps it was being in Rome far away from everything that was familiar; but that night she was feeling particularly brave, particularly bold.