The first golden rays filtered through Saffron Art Café's east-facing windows. Arohi, already bustling with a tray of almond biscotti and her usual quick wit, checked her phone:
[System Sign-In: Select your reward—an immersive private crash course in Italian language OR a luxurious gourmet dinner for four at Mumbai's most exclusive restaurant.]
She grinned, thinking of Rome's open-air markets, then eyed Shruti—who was dabbing paint across the mural, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Inspiration struck.
Arohi called out, "Shruti!" What's more fun—learning Italian or eating your weight in fancy desserts?"
Shruti laughed, bright and curious.
Shruti: "Italian, obviously! You could charm all those Milanese designers. Maybe teach the aunties something besides gossip."
Arohi: "Challenge accepted. My next art: 'How to survive Indian family drama in five languages.'"
With a gentle tap, Arohi chose the Italian immersion option.
Within the hour, her system scheduled a sleek video call on her phone. The face on the other side was a young woman, all curls and dimples—Elena, her cheerful Italian instructor.
Elena, with a bright smile, exclaimed, "Buongiorno, Arohi! Are you ready to dive into the world of languages?"
Arohi, with a playful smirk, quipped, "Only if the accent comes with free gelato."
The lesson swept her up—gestures, laughter, and rapid-fire phrases. Arohi's system-enhanced memory let everything click in place. Shruti watched in awe as her friend traded quips, now switching languages with wild charm.
By afternoon, a group of college students arrived for open mic. Arohi, ever the hostess, greeted each one in flawless Italian—just for the thrill of seeing jaws drop.
Student (surprised): "Yeh toh asli Milan wali feel hai! Di, yeh kahan se seekha aapne?"
Arohi (with a wink): "Spent my childhood with subtitles, you know."
Shruti joined her at the counter, waggling her paint-stained fingers.
Shruti: "You realize you're now officially the coolest café owner in Mumbai?"
Arohi (deadpan): "Our family WhatsApp group would combust if they heard you say that. Should I send them a 'Ciao, famiglia' video?"
They burst into giggles as Priya introduced a new banana-walnut loaf, the café buzzing with the hum of music, chatter, and creative chaos.
Back at the Villa: Family Churn
At the Malhotra home, another day of rumor churn:
Savita Chachi (sighing over tea): "Now she's speaking in Italian! What next, French poetry by the tapri stall?"
Mini (texting Arohi): "Chachi wants to know if 'ciao bella' is an insult. You've started an international incident."
As dusk painted the sky in marigold and indigo, Arohi and Shruti locked up, a fresh mural glowing on the walls. The air was soft—thick with the promise of rain, the laughter of new friends, and a happiness that felt earned, not borrowed.
Arohi wrote quietly in her diary:
"You don't have to leave to find adventure. Sometimes it finds you—in the middle of espresso steam and bravely learning something new. La dolce vita isn't a place. It's a state of mind."
Her system chimed:
[Sign-In Complete: Proficiency in Italian unlocked. Tomorrow reward preview: VIP spa day OR an exclusive business masterclass. Sleep well, queen.]
Arohi looked at Shruti—a partner in riot and joy—then out to the city beyond.
Arohi (softly): "Here's to more firsts. In any language."