Nearly three weeks passed.
Life gradually settled into a new rhythm.
The Moretti Villa, once filled only with family conversations, now bustled with cameras, lighting equipment, directors, and production assistants.
After lengthy discussions, Lara and the production team had made a bold decision.
The cookbook series would continue...
Not in London.
But in Italy.
Inside the magnificent kitchen of the Moretti estate.
It was larger.
Warmer.
More personal.
Every corner carried generations of culinary history.
Copper pots hung from aged wooden beams.
Fresh herbs grew beside the open windows.
Morning sunlight spilt across polished marble countertops.
The kitchen no longer felt like a television studio.
It felt like a home.
And for Damiano...
It was the one place where he felt himself completely.
Every morning, the crew transformed the kitchen into a filming set.
Cameras rolled into position.
Microphones were adjusted.
Recipes were reviewed one last time.
Lara watched everything with satisfied eyes.
The atmosphere was different now.
Lighter.
The tension that had once existed between Damiano and Alankrita had softened.
They still spoke professionally before the cameras.
Neither crossed any boundaries.
Yet...
There was no longer bitterness.
Only a quiet awkwardness that both carefully hid behind their work.
That morning...
Alankrita arrived wearing a simple pistachio-green churidar.
The soft cotton fabric moved gracefully as she walked through the villa.
She had left Raghuveer with Lavanya, who had insisted on babysitting.
"Go and finish your work peacefully."
Lavanya had smiled.
"My grandson will be perfectly fine with me."
Although she smiled back...
Every mother knew the feeling.
No matter how trustworthy the hands holding your child...
A small part of your heart always remained with them.
As she entered the enormous kitchen...
She saw him already there.
Damiano.
Dressed entirely in black.
A crisp black shirt.
Tailored trousers.
A spotless white apron tied neatly around his waist.
His sleeves were rolled to his forearms.
He stood before the marble island, arranging fresh ingredients with practised precision.
The morning sunlight fell across his profile.
For a brief moment...
He looked less like an internationally celebrated chef...
And more like an artist preparing his canvas.
He sensed her presence before she spoke.
Their eyes met.
She offered a polite nod.
"Good morning."
His lips curved into a faint smile.
"Good morning."
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Professional.
Exactly as both of them had silently agreed.
"Rolling in five!"
The director's voice echoed through the kitchen.
Everyone hurried into position.
The familiar routine returned.
"Camera one..."
"Ready."
"Camera two..."
"Ready."
"Sound?"
"Rolling."
"Action!"
Instantly...
They became their on-screen selves.
Warm.
Confident.
Natural.
Alankrita smiled toward the camera.
"Welcome back to another episode."
"Our viewers have been eagerly waiting for today's recipe."
Damiano chuckled while placing butter into a hot pan.
"I hope I don't disappoint them."
"You never do."
she replied professionally.
The cameras captured their effortless rhythm.
Questions flowed naturally.
Recipes unfolded gracefully.
It looked as though nothing had ever gone wrong between them.
Only they knew...
How much silence existed beneath every smile.
Halfway through preparing a creamy mushroom risotto...
Damiano suddenly glanced toward the camera.
"I have an announcement."
Alankrita turned toward him, perfectly playing her role.
"Oh?"
"What announcement?"
He continued stirring the risotto.
"As of today..."
"I have someone very special joining me in this kitchen."
She smiled brightly.
"Really?"
"Should we invite this mysterious guest?"
Damiano looked directly toward the studio entrance.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"I think we should."
He nodded once.
The large wooden doors slowly opened.
Everyone turned.
Alankrita smiled politely, expecting another celebrity guest.
Instead...
She froze.
Rohan and Aravind walked into the kitchen.
Between them...
Sat little Raghuveer.
The little boy was dressed in a tiny cream-colored romper, happily chewing on the corner of his bib.
The moment he spotted Damiano...
His face lit up.
He stretched both tiny arms forward excitedly.
"Aa!"
Damiano laughed.
Without hesitation, he wiped his hands clean on a towel before walking toward him.
"There you are..."
he murmured warmly.
He lifted Raghuveer with practised ease.
The little boy squealed with delight.
Then immediately wrapped one tiny arm around Damiano's neck.
Before anyone could react...
Raghuveer leaned forward...
And planted a noisy kiss on Damiano's cheek.
"Mwah!"
The entire production team erupted into laughter.
The cameras captured everything.
Damiano smiled like a man who had just received the greatest award of his life.
Alankrita stood completely stunned.
For several seconds...
She forgot the cameras were rolling.
Forgot the audience watching live.
Forgot the script.
She could only stare.
Finally...
She leaned slightly toward him and whispered so softly that only he could hear.
"What is this, Mr Moretti?"
Without taking his eyes off Raghuveer...
He smiled.
"My special guest."
He gently rubbed his nose against Raghuveer's tiny nose.
"This little lion is my official food critic from today."
He looked at the child.
"Isn't that right?"
Raghuveer blinked seriously.
Then nodded with adorable determination.
The entire kitchen burst into applause.
Damiano carefully placed him on a safe section of the wide marble counter, far away from the stove.
He handed him a wooden spoon and a small mixing bowl.
Within seconds...
Raghuveer began enthusiastically banging the spoon against the bowl.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The rhythm echoed through the kitchen.
Everyone laughed.
Damiano looked toward the main camera with unmistakable pride.
"Ladies and gentlemen..."
"I would like you to meet our newest and most honest judge."
He gently rested a hand on Raghuveer's tiny shoulder.
"Our Baby Pumpkin."
"Our Little Prince."
"Raghuveer."
The crew applauded again.
Alankrita looked from her son...
To Damiano...
Then back again.
She had come expecting another ordinary day of filming.
Instead...
Without asking her...
He had quietly made her little boy...
Part of his world.