~From Ashes to Passion~ [Multicouple Series #3]

~01~ The Trip

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the half-packed suitcase. 

The room buzzed with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. 

My hands trembled slightly as I folded yet another crisp shirt and placed it neatly in the suitcase. 

It still didn't feel real.

Raghavendra Bhai trusted me. 

Raghavendra. 

The elder brother who had always been the epitome of perfection in my eyes—sharp, commanding, and unwavering in his responsibilities. 

For years, I had felt like the younger shadow in his presence, always running to catch up, but never quite reaching. 

And now, this.

I smiled to myself as I carefully rolled up a tie, the one Bhai had handed me that morning with a pat on my shoulder. "You'll need this, Kush. Make a solid impression," my brother had said, the corners of his mouth quirking in that rare, approving smile. 

It was just a tie, but to me, it felt like a medal of honor.

Initially, I had refused. 

The moment Bhai had told me about the Russia deal, my heart had thudded in my chest. "Bhai, I can't! This is too big—what if I mess up? You know I'm not ready for this."

But Bhai had stopped me in mid-sentence. "Kush, enough. You are ready. I wouldn't hand you this if I thought otherwise. I trust you, little brother. And it's time you trust yourself too."

Those words still echoed in my ears. 

I trust you. 

They had struck a chord deep within me, one I hadn't even realized existed. 

My big brother believed in me, and now, I was determined not to let him down.

I zipped up one side of the suitcase and paused, glancing at the small photo frame on my bedside table. 

It was a picture of my family—Bhai standing tall and composed, and I, slightly awkward, grinning with an arm slung around my brother's shoulder. 

I picked it up and slipped it into a side pocket of my bag.

My phone buzzed with a reminder: Flight at 8 AM tomorrow. 

My stomach flipped again, a mix of butterflies and adrenaline.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "You've got this," I murmured to myself. 

Packing the last of my things—a notebook for jotting down details, my favorite pen, and a pair of gloves for the Russian winter—I closed the suitcase and gave it a final pat.

As I stood up, I glanced at the mirror. 

My reflection stared back at me, a young man on the cusp of proving himself, not just to his brother, but to himself.

Kush smiled, determination flashing in his eyes. "Russia, here I come."

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