The morning sunlight spilled golden over the ocean, the waves crashing softly against the shore as a cool, salty breeze swept through the open patio. The Monroe family sat around the long, white marble table beneath the shaded canopy, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware blending with the soft hum of the sea.
Freshly baked croissants, golden and flaky, lay in a basket at the center of the table. There were trays of eggs Benedict, smoked salmon, fruit parfaits, and silver pots of coffee and tea steaming beside jugs of fresh orange juice. Everything was laid out perfectly—because, at the Monroe estate, perfection was an unspoken rule.
Zayn and River arrived together. Zayn looked sharp in a light linen shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the wind. River, dressed simply in a loose cream shirt and fitted slacks, carried an energy that felt too alive, too genuine for the room of carefully composed smiles.
Zayn leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek, greeting her softly.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Elena replied warmly, her eyes full of affection.
They exchanged pleasantries with everyone before sitting—though not together. The only empty chairs were apart. Zayn sat near his mother, while River ended up beside Liana, Damian’s fiancée, who greeted him with a warm smile.
The servers moved around gracefully, filling plates. River, starving, reached for a croissant and tore it with his hands before grabbing bacon and eggs and starting to eat—using his fingers instead of the cutlery.
Veronica, seated opposite, gave a slow blink and rolled her eyes.
“Mannerless and uncivilized,” she muttered under her breath, leaning slightly toward Harry. “Wherever did Zayn find this one?”
River heard. Every word. But he kept chewing calmly, pretending not to. He didn’t want to give her more fuel. He reminded himself: You’re here to play the perfect boyfriend, not pick a fight. Still, a small voice inside whispered, Does being perfect mean taking disrespect too?
Liana broke the tension with a bright, disarming tone.
“You seem intelligent, River. And such a handsome man too.”
River smiled, grateful.
“You’re the gorgeous one,” he replied smoothly, “no wonder Damian wanted to get married that quick.”
Liana laughed, and so did Damian, leaning over to bump her shoulder.
“Can’t argue with that,” he said with a grin. The light moment drew a few chuckles around the table—except from Harry, who rolled his eyes dramatically.
He leaned forward, picking up a serving spoon and piling food onto Zayn’s plate.
“Here,” he said sweetly, voice dripping with mock nostalgia. “Let me serve you, just like old times.”
Zayn stiffened. His eyes flicked toward River, who raised an eyebrow and gave a small smirk like, Go on, I dare you. Zayn cleared his throat and shook his head politely.
“Thanks, Harry, but we’re not kids anymore.”
Harry chuckled, but the edge in his tone didn’t go unnoticed.
“No, we’re definitely not.”
Veronica pretended not to notice the undercurrent. Instead, she busied herself buttering her toast—while tossing veiled remarks that stung like tiny needles.
“Some people,” she said casually, “don’t seem to understand decorum. But then again, it’s hard to teach what isn’t learned at home.”
Zayn sighed, his patience thinning.
“Aunt Veronica,” he said carefully, “that’s unnecessary. And about last night… I wanted to say I’m sorry. Things got a little out of hand.”
Veronica’s lips curved into a smug smile.
“Oh, darling, you don’t need to apologize for his behavior.”
Before she could add more, Leonardo set down his fork. The table quieted instantly. He leaned slightly on his fists, his sharp eyes fixed on River. His presence alone could make the air still.
“River,” he said suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the sound of the ocean.
Everyone froze. Even the sound of the waves seemed to fade.
River straightened in his chair, clearing his throat.
“Y–yes, sir?”
Leonardo’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Tell me something about yourself. Your career. Finances. Background.” His tone was measured, but his eyes carried the weight of judgment. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
River swallowed hard, then smiled politely.
“Thank you for asking, sir. I’m a third-year law student. I do some modeling work on the side, and—”
“Model?” Veronica gasped theatrically, pressing her manicured fingers to her chest. “Oh, how surprising! Who are you trying to fool, dear? Just because your boyfriend manages a model agency doesn’t make you one.”
Harry stifled a laugh beside her, clearly enjoying the humiliation.
River hesitated but kept his voice calm.
“I… come from a humble background. My father used to work in a mine, but he’s retired now. My mother passed away when I was younger, and I have a younger sister.”
Veronica’s lips curled into a poisonous smile.
“So I was right. A gold digger’s son.” She whispered the next part to Harry, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It runs in the family. Once a digger, always a digger.”
Harry burst into laughter.
Zayn’s fork froze mid-air. River’s eyes hardened, but his tone remained smooth.
“I might not have much, ma’am, but at least I have someone who loves me. Zayn’s a blessing to me, and I thank him every day for that.”
Leonardo’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Do your parents know about… your relationship?”
River nodded.
“They do, sir. And they’re okay with it.”
Veronica didn’t miss a beat.
“Of course they are,” she said with a saccharine smile. “Why wouldn’t they be, when their son is dating Zayn Monroe? The one man who can lift them out of poverty.”
That did it. River’s composure snapped. He turned sharply toward her.
“What exactly is your problem with me?”
Veronica blinked innocently.
“Problem? Oh, sweetheart, I don’t have a problem. I’m simply speaking facts.”
“You’ve been throwing little remarks since I got here,” River said, his voice trembling slightly with contained anger. “And I haven’t said a word to you.”
Her eyes flared.
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?”
River smiled tightly.
“Obviously not you.”
Zayn shifted uncomfortably.
“River, please… let it go.”
River’s jaw clenched. He looked at Zayn—then at Leonardo, who was staring at him in unreadable silence. River exhaled and whispered,
“I’m sorry.”
Veronica leaned back in her chair, smirking.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, boy. People like you are exactly why Leonardo misunderstands gay men. You give them a bad name.”
Her words were a knife.
Then she twisted it.
“You know, I still miss Zayn’s ex. Now he fit the Monroe image. Classy, well-mannered, refined… not like this—”
“Enough!” Zayn snapped, but Veronica ignored him.
“Not like this little charity project,” she sneered. “Honestly, Zayn, I don’t know what you’re doing slumming down here.”
River froze. Something inside him boiled.
“You talk a lot for someone who hides behind their brother’s money,” he said coldly. “But I suppose that’s what you’re best at—buzzing around pretending you matter.”
The silence that fell was thick and suffocating. Every eye turned to him.
Zayn’s hand slammed the table.
“River! Shut up!”
River looked at him — eyes glistening, disbelief flashing across his face. For a heartbeat, the two just stared at each other.
Then River pushed his chair back, forcing a small, broken smile.
“Excuse me,” he said quietly. “I think I’ve said enough for one breakfast.”
He stood, gave a polite nod to Elena and Damian, and walked away.
The sound of his retreating footsteps was the only thing that filled the silence — until Veronica leaned back, triumphant, a small, satisfied smile curling her lips.
And Zayn sat there, his heart sinking, realizing he might’ve just lost control of everything.
***
The sea stretched endlessly before him, a silver mirror rippling under the waning light. River sat with his knees drawn up, elbows resting loosely on them, his fingers absentmindedly digging into the soft, cool sand. The crash of the waves against the shore was rhythmic and steady—an almost tender contrast to the storm inside his chest.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Why did these people make him so angry? It wasn’t just irritation—it was that tight, suffocating kind of fury that built up when you tried to fit into a world that kept reminding you that you didn’t belong there. He didn’t even know why it mattered so much to him, but somehow, every glance, every whisper, every smirk from them made something in him twist.
He heard footsteps behind him—soft but sure. Then a familiar voice.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
He looked up, squinting slightly against the sunset. Liana stood there in a loose dress, her hair caught in the sea breeze. For once, her expression was gentle, stripped of the sharp humor she often used as armor.
River smiled faintly.
“Not at all.”
She settled beside him, her gaze following the waves. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The ocean filled the silence between them until she finally sighed.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “Your frustration, I mean. There are times I’ve wanted to kill Veronica myself.”
River let out a small, dry laugh.
“Guess I just said what everyone’s been dying to say.”
“You really did.”
He stared ahead, his tone softening.
“I just don’t understand why she hates me so much. I literally just met her.”
Liana chuckled under her breath.
“It’s a status thing. Veronica’s always believed she sits on some kind of pedestal. It’s pathetic, really. The whole family’s built around reputation and appearance.”
“So it’s like that, huh?” River murmured.
“Pretty much,” she said, turning to him with a small shrug. “I only got lucky because I’m an heir. Only child. My parents are abroad—they’ll make it in time for the wedding. Otherwise, I’d be treated like you too.”
“Lucky you,” River said with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Not as lucky as you think,” she replied softly, but quickly changed the subject. “Look, I know this isn’t about Veronica. It’s about Zayn. You’re angry because he didn’t stand up for you.”
River was quiet for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah. He just sat there. Watching. Like it was normal.”
Liana’s voice grew sympathetic.
“He’s scared. Of them. Of disappointing them. But you’re right—he should’ve done something. He’s acting like a coward.”
River’s jaw tightened.
“It didn’t use to be like this,” he muttered. “He used to be… stronger. Now it’s like he’s too afraid to even breathe wrong around them.”
Liana touched his arm lightly before standing.
“Maybe he just needs to remember who he is. Anyway, I’ll leave you two to figure it out. Speak of the devil…”
River looked up. Zayn was walking toward them, his steps quick, his expression thunderous.
Liana gave River a knowing look.
“Good luck,” she whispered before slipping away.
Zayn didn’t wait for her to be out of earshot before snapping,
“What the hell was that back there, River?” His voice was low, sharp, his jaw clenched. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”
River blinked at him, taken aback by his tone.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Zayn hissed. “You just had to make a scene. You made things worse for my family—for me. I told you this wasn’t about picking fights, and you completely ignored that.”
River rose slowly, brushing sand from his palms. His voice was calm, but his eyes were cold.
“You’re angry because I embarrassed you? That’s what you care about?”
Zayn’s face hardened.
“You’re being senseless and unprofessional. This isn’t what we agreed on. You’re supposed to help me, not make things harder.”
“Right,” River said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because pretending to be your boyfriend while getting humiliated by your family is exactly what I signed up for.”
“River—”
“No,” he cut him off sharply, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see it? You let them talk to me like I’m dirt. You let them mock me, laugh at me, and you just sit there pretending it’s all fine. You’re their puppet, Zayn.”
Zayn’s nostrils flared.
“You don’t understand—”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” River interrupted, his voice rising. “You’re too scared to stand up to them. You’re too afraid of losing whatever control you think you have. But newsflash—this isn’t what a boyfriend does. We were supposed to show them that we’re in love, that we’re happy. And instead, you’re acting like a damn idiot.”
Zayn’s mouth opened, but River didn’t let him speak. He stepped closer until they were inches apart, his voice low and trembling with restrained anger.
“If you don’t pull yourself together, everyone’s going to see right through us,” River said. “They already smell the cracks. And when that happens, your little plan? It’s going to crumble.”
Zayn tried to steady his breathing, his voice cracking slightly.
“You think this is easy for me? You have no idea what it’s like dealing with them.”
River’s glare softened for just a fraction of a second—but only for a second.
“Maybe I don’t,” he said quietly. “But if you don’t know how to treat someone you love, there’s the damn internet. Look it up.”
He brushed past Zayn, his shoulder grazing him hard, and began walking back toward the house without looking back.
Zayn stood frozen on the sand, his hands trembling slightly. The wind tugged at his hair, the sound of the waves now harsh and relentless. For the first time, he didn’t feel angry—he felt something far worse. He felt small. And guilty.
Because deep down, he knew River was right.
***
The afternoon sun hung lazily above the horizon, casting a molten glow over the Monroe resort’s private beach. The golden sand shimmered, and laughter echoed from different corners—family members chatting, sipping cocktails, and watching as the wind carried the salty scent of the ocean.
A volleyball net had been set up not far from the water’s edge, and Zayn found himself reluctantly drawn into the game. River came there, walking towards Zayn when Harrybwalked past him, throwing him a shady eye.
“I'm on his team, golddigger.”
River looked at him as he went to where Zayn and Adrian stood on the other side of the net.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Liana said, tapping on his shoulder. “Let's win this, yoire with us.”
River stood on the opposite side of the court, his feet digging into the warm sand, his shirt fluttering lightly with the sea breeze. There was something undeniably magnetic about him—his easy smile, the way his hair caught the sunlight, the little sparkle in his eyes. Even in the chaos of the Monroes, he managed to look effortlessly alive.
“Alright, teams are set!” Damian shouted, clapping his hands. “Zayn, Harry, Adrian—on one side. River, Liana, and me on the other.”
River raised an eyebrow the moment Harry walked to Zayn’s side, his body language smug and deliberate. The way Harry smirked while adjusting his sunglasses said it all—he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Harry murmured as he passed River. “Try not to cry when I spike on you, sweetheart.”
River tilted his head, smiling sweetly.
“Don’t worry, old man. I’ll go easy on your knees.”
That earned a bark of laughter from Damian and a dramatic gasp from Liana. Zayn, however, wasn’t laughing. He could already feel the tension tightening around his chest like a vice. He didn’t want this match to become another battlefield—but looking at Harry’s smug expression and River’s teasing grin, he knew peace was a lost cause.
The game began.
The ball soared across the net, light as air at first, then faster and harder as the players got into rhythm. Cheers erupted from the sidelines—Veronica lounging with a glass of wine, Elena shielding her eyes from the sun, Adrian egging everyone on.
River moved with energy, diving into the sand, laughing when Liana missed a serve, shouting encouragement. He was radiant, a picture of free-spirited joy that drew eyes wherever he went. Zayn tried to focus, but every Harry passed him, he'd wink at him dangerous and he couldn't get but get bothered.
Harry noticed.
He smirked, leaning close to Zayn as they switched positions.
“You still blush when I am close to you. That’s adorable. I thought ex boyfriends weren’t supposed to get under your skin.”
Zayn’s jaw clenched.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Harry gave a low, taunting chuckle.
“Don’t I?” He positioned himself near the net. “Watch and learn how it’s done.”
The ball flew over. River leaped up, blocking with skill, the sound of the ball hitting his palm sharp and satisfying. The rally was fast, exhilarating—sand flying, bodies moving in sync. Then Harry sent a powerful serve that caught Liana off guard.
“Point for us,” he called, smirking.
River rolled his eyes.
“Congrats. Want a medal, grandpa?”
Harry grinned wider.
“I’d rather take a kiss from your boyfriend. Oh wait, he wasmine first.”
The words hit like thunder. The sound of the ocean dimmed under the weight of the silence that followed. Zayn’s face flushed, a dangerous mix of anger and humiliation. River’s expression shifted instantly—his easygoing smile melting into something colder.
“Wow,” River said, his tone sharp but calm. “Still clinging to the past, huh? That must be exhausting.”
Harry tilted his head.
“It’s hard to forget when you’ve had the best, darling.”
Zayn stepped forward, his voice low and tight.
“Harry, enough.”
But River wasn’t done. He served the ball hard, his anger channeled into every movement. The ball flew past Harry and slammed into the sand just inches from his feet.
“Guess I win that round,” River said, brushing his hands off, his voice dripping with challenge.
From the sidelines, Veronica laughed softly.
“The help’s got a temper,” she muttered, earning a sharp look from Elena.
The game grew fiercer after that. It wasn’t volleyball anymore—it was war disguised as sport. Each serve was a statement. Each spike was personal. Zayn’s eyes flicked constantly between Harry and River, his heart pounding from something that had nothing to do with exercise.
At one point, River dived for the ball, landing hard in the sand, his shirt slipping up slightly. Zayn instinctively rushed toward him, concern etched across his face.
“You okay?”
River looked up, breathless but smiling faintly.
“I’m fine, Zayn.” His voice softened in a way that made Zayn’s chest tighten.
Harry caught the look between them and barked out a laugh.
“Wow. You’re really good at pretending, aren’t you, River? Scared he's gonna be attracted to me if he doesnt spend another second with you?”
River slowly rose to his feet, his gaze cutting through the sunlight like a blade.
“And you’re really good at pretending you’ve moved on,” he shot back. “Almost makes me believe you’re not still bitter.”
That stung. The air was electric now, humming with emotion. Even the sea breeze couldn’t cool it.
“Okay,” Damian said nervously, glancing between them. “Maybe we should—”
“Play on,” Veronica interrupted, her tone gleefully cruel. “This is just getting interesting.”
They did. The next serve came from River—fast, precise, angry. Harry leaped to block it, but Zayn’s reflexes kicked in at the same time. Their hands collided mid-air, the ball spinning off course and dropping between them.
“Nice coordination,” River said, his tone sarcastic.
“Maybe if someone wasn’t so emotional,” Harry muttered, brushing sand from his arms.
Zayn snapped, his voice rising before he could stop himself.
“Enough, Harry!”
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the waves seemed to hush.
The final serve came fast, a blur of motion that had everyone’s breath caught in their throats. The ball soared over the net like a comet—and though Zayn leapt to meet it, the sting of the sun and exhaustion slowed him down by half a second. The ball grazed his fingertips and slammed into the sand behind him.
“Game over!” Damian shouted, throwing his arms in the air, his grin wide and triumphant.
Liana squealed in excitement, running into Damian’s arms. He caught her effortlessly, spinning her around as she laughed against his shoulder, her hair catching the sunlight in golden streaks. The sound of her joy echoed down the beach like music.
River clapped his hands, breathless and flushed, the corners of his mouth curling into a satisfied smirk. He looked victorious—his shirt clinging to his chest from sweat, grains of sand stuck to his skin, eyes gleaming like he’d just conquered a battlefield.
On the other side of the court, Zayn leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Sweat rolled down his temples, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He hated losing—always had—and now he could feel the sting of defeat mixing with frustration and the heaviness of everything that had happened earlier.
A shadow fell across him.
He looked up to find Harry standing there, tall and composed, his smile half smug, half sympathetic. He placed a hand on Zayn’s shoulder—familiar, steady, almost tender.
“Hey,” he said lightly, “don’t beat yourself up. We’ll get them next time.”
Zayn huffed out a breath, trying to steady his racing pulse.
Harry crouched slightly to meet his gaze.
“You’re still as competitive as I remember. God, I can still see that face you used to make every time you lost a match.” His tone softened, his thumb brushing briefly over Zayn’s shoulder. “Maybe I can do something to make you feel better—like old times.”
The words hit deeper than they should have.
For a brief second, Zayn was pulled back into another world—late nights in college, laughter echoing in small apartments, Harry’s hand intertwined with his under dim lights. A world that had felt so real… until it wasn’t.
Zayn straightened slowly, his eyes meeting Harry’s. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to feel.
Then—
“Old timer!”
River’s voice cut through the air like a knife.
Both men turned as River jogged toward them, his grin unapologetic and mischievous. He brushed right past Harry, bumping him slightly out of the way as if he weren’t even there.
“You’re blocking the sun, grandpa,” he said casually before turning to Zayn.
Zayn blinked, still catching up.
“River—”
But River was already in motion. He pulled a towel from around his neck and began wiping Zayn’s face with an exaggerated gentleness, muttering,
“You’re sweating so bad. Didn’t I tell you you only win when you’re on my side?”
Zayn froze. The proximity—the smell of salt and warmth and something distinctly River—made his pulse stutter.
River’s voice dropped a little lower, just enough for Harry to hear.
“Guess now someone else has to make you feel better, huh?” He shot Harry a pointed look, smirking before turning his attention back to Zayn.
Before Zayn could say a word—before he could even think—River’s hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers curling just beneath his hair. The touch was firm, confident, claiming.
Zayn’s breath caught.
“River, what are you—”
River pulled him down.
It was instinctive, shocking, electric. Their lips met, and for a moment the entire beach seemed to vanish. The sound of the ocean dulled. Time slowed. The taste of salt, the heat of the sun, the wild hammer of Zayn’s heart—everything blurred into that single, breathtaking instant.
When River finally pulled back, his lips curved into a lazy, triumphant smile.
“Now that’s better,” he said, voice soft but heavy with meaning.
Zayn stared at him, dazed, his chest rising and falling too fast. His fingers twitched at his sides as though reaching for something he couldn’t quite grasp.
River brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and whispered,
“You should smile more when you lose. Makes it easier to take.” Then he turned and started walking toward the shoreline, the wind whipping through his hair as he joined Liana and Damian, who were still celebrating.
Behind them, Harry stood rigid, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists. His earlier smugness had evaporated, replaced by something dark and simmering. He exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered,
“Unbelievable,” before storming off toward the resort, sand kicking up beneath his feet.
Zayn remained standing in the middle of the court, staring at the waves where River had gone. His heart was thundering—not from the game, not from exhaustion, but from shock. He couldn't believe River had done that. He could still taste his lips on his.
***
The salty evening breeze brushed softly against River’s face as he leaned against the porch railing, a faint orange glow spreading across the horizon. The sun was melting into the ocean, its reflection glimmering like liquid fire. He held his phone close to his ear, his tone gentle yet cautious.
“Hey, Ellie,” he said, his voice soft but weary.
“River?” his sister’s voice came, light and familiar, the kind that always made him feel like home wasn’t too far. “Where are you? You sound… far.”
He chuckled lightly, though guilt tugged beneath his ribs.
“Just… out of town for a bit. Some school stuff came up. I’ll be back in about a week.”
There was silence for a moment, then Ellie sighed.
“You and your mysterious ‘school stuff.’” She laughed faintly, then added, “The money you sent—it helped, really. Covered a few bills and the groceries. But you know we still have the debt hanging over us.”
“I know,” River said, rubbing his temple. “But if we’re lucky… we’ll have nothing to worry about soon.”
Ellie frowned through the phone.
“What do you mean by that?”
River hesitated, glancing out at the fading horizon.
“Just wishful thinking,” he murmured.
She sighed again.
“You’re always full of wishful thinking, River.”
He smiled faintly.
“Someone has to be. Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Take care of yourself, and don’t skip dinner again.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she teased softly. “Love you, troublemaker.”
“Love you too,” he said before ending the call.
He slipped his phone into his pocket, letting the silence of the sea fill the air again. The waves were calm, the world seemed peaceful for once—and yet, the afternoon’s chaos still echoed in his mind. The kiss. Zayn’s stunned face. Harry’s fury.
He exhaled deeply and was about to sink back into his thoughts when a faint smell caught his attention—sharp, smoky. Cigarette. His senses sharpened instantly. He turned, eyes scanning the shadows of the porch until he spotted a tall man standing near the edge, lighting a cigarette with deliberate slowness.
River frowned. Probably one of the workers, he thought. Without thinking twice, he strode forward.
“Hey! You can’t smoke here,” he said, reaching out. Just as the man was about to place the cigarette between his lips, River snatched it from him. “That thing’s gonna bring you nothing but cancer, you know?”
Before the man could react, River crushed the cigarette between his fingers, breaking it into tiny pieces.
“There! All gone! You’re welcome—”
He froze mid-sentence.
The man turned his head slightly, and River’s stomach dropped. That face. The unyielding jawline. Those sharp, unblinking eyes that seemed to pierce through flesh and thought alike.
It was Leonardo.
Zayn’s father.
“...Sir,” River stammered, straightening as if electrocuted. “I—I am so sorry. I didn’t realize— I mean, I thought you were one of the staff, and I just… reacted! My deepest apologies!”
Leonardo said nothing, his gaze cool and unreadable.
River laughed nervously, stepping back.
“Right! So, uh, you can smoke all you want! It’s your cigarette, your lungs, your... empire. I shouldn’t have interfered—actually, I’ll just go before I make things worse.”
He turned, ready to flee the scene, when a deep voice called after him.
“River.”
He froze.
Then came the single word that made him blink in disbelief.
“Troublemaker.”
River turned slowly, a nervous chuckle escaping him.
“I wouldn’t exactly call myself a troublemaker, sir. It’s just that sometimes, I get… forced to act a certain type of way.” He scratched the back of his neck, cheeks flushed.
Leonardo studied him with a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Every meeting we’ve had since you arrived has been—eventful.”
River shrugged sheepishly.
“Yeah, well, I swear I’m not like this all the time. I’m actually very peaceful. I like quiet… long naps… minimal drama.”
Leonardo’s brow lifted.
“And yet, drama seems to find you.”
“Tell me about it,” River muttered under his breath.
Leonardo’s eyes gleamed faintly with curiosity.
“Tell me, what type of person are you, then?”
River hesitated, then straightened, meeting the older man’s gaze.
“The type who doesn’t give up easily. Who stands up for himself—and for others. The type who knows when to fight, but also when to walk away.”
Something in Leonardo’s expression shifted slightly, though his face remained composed.
After a pause, Leonardo asked,
“How long have you been… dating my son?”
River smiled faintly.
“Three years.”
Leonardo tilted his head.
“And how has that been?”
River chuckled.
“Like any relationship—gay or straight—it has its ups and downs. But we always rise above them. Or at least, we try to.”
Leonardo’s gaze turned more contemplative.
“Why did you become gay?”
River blinked, startled—but then his expression softened.
“I didn’t ‘become’ anything, sir. I just… realized who I was. It’s not something I chose. It’s something I accepted.”
Leonardo exhaled through his nose, a faint trace of disdain in his tone.
“Reckless. All of you. My son included.”
River crossed his arms lightly.
“Not all of us. Just like not all straight people are perfect either. Some are reckless, some are kind, some are cruel. It’s not about being gay or straight—it’s about being human.”
Leonardo’s brow furrowed, but his gaze lingered—curious, even impressed.
Their exchange drifted on from there, moving like a tide. What began as a clash of views slowly evolved into something more engaging—debate. They talked about politics, about freedom, about social changes and family. Leonardo’s sharp wit met River’s passionate intelligence, and though their opinions often collided, they both found a strange rhythm in the tension.
River gestured animatedly, his words sharp yet measured.
“You can’t just suppress people because you don’t agree with them. The world’s changing, Mr. Monroe. You either learn to move with it or get left behind.”
Leonardo smirked faintly.
“You speak like a politician.”
“Maybe in another life,” River grinned.
By the time they both paused, the sky had deepened into a wash of purples and golds, and the lights from the house were glowing softly behind them.
Leonardo glanced toward the dining area.
“It’s late. You should eat.”
River nodded.
“Only if you’re joining me.”
Leonardo arched an eyebrow, amused. “You’re quite bold, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been told,” River said with a grin.
Moments later, the two men entered the dining hall together. The chatter died instantly. All eyes turned toward them—Zayn’s in particular, wide with disbelief.
Leonardo simply moved to his seat at the head of the table, motioning for River to sit beside him.
The room remained frozen for a moment—Liana’s fork paused mid-air, Veronica’s jaw slack, Zayn staring like his world had flipped upside down.
Whatever had just happened on that porch… had changed something.
***
Zayn closed the door behind him with a soft thud, leaning against it for a moment as he took in the sight before him. River stood by the bed, already dressed down in shorts and an oversized shirt, carefully placing a pillow in the middle of the bed like a border patrol officer marking sacred territory. The sight made Zayn smirk.
“Seriously?” Zayn asked, arching an eyebrow. “You’re doing the wall thing again?”
River didn’t look up.
“You make it sound like I’m constructing the Great Wall of China,” he muttered. “It’s just a peace treaty. Keeps us both from trespassing.”
Zayn chuckled under his breath and walked farther into the room.
“You really are different from how I thought you’d be,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief. “When I first met you, I thought you were the quiet, reserved type. Turns out, you talk more than half my relatives combined.”
River finally looked up, a spark in his eyes.
“And that’s supposed to be a bad thing?”
“Not necessarily,” Zayn replied, his lips twitching. “Just unexpected.”
River shrugged casually.
“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Monroe. I never said I was quiet—just that I pick my battles. And when people start stepping on me, I don’t exactly take it lying down.”
Zayn took a slow step closer, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on River’s face.
“I noticed,” he said, a faint smirk forming. “Just when I thought you were about to ruin everything, you went and walked in with my father, looking like you owned the place. That… was impressive.”
River blinked.
“Impressive?”
Zayn nodded.
“Yeah. My father doesn’t like anyone easily. But somehow, you got him to have an actual conversation—and walk into dinner with you. That’s… something.”
River gave a modest shrug, pretending it wasn’t a big deal.
“It was just luck. He was smoking, I was being my usual annoying self, and somehow we ended up talking.”
Zayn laughed softly.
“Whatever it was, it worked. You surprised me—and believe me, that doesn’t happen often. It’s to our advantage.”
River leaned against the bedpost, folding his arms.
“Told you—I’m all in. If we’re gonna do this, we need to make it believable. We can’t just say we’re in love; we have to act like it. Or else they’ll see right through us.”
Zayn ran his fingers through his dark hair, watching River with a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Act like we’re in love, huh?” He took another step closer, the space between them shrinking. “Does that mean I get to do more than kiss you this time?”
River’s eyes widened slightly as Zayn winked playfully. He gave him a light shove on the chest, his lips twitching despite himself.
“In your dreams, Monroe.”
Zayn laughed, the sound warm and disarming.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. I was kinda hoping dreams were negotiable.”
River rolled his eyes and climbed into bed, tugging the blanket up to his chest.
“Dreams are the only place you’re getting lucky tonight,” he said flatly, his voice muffled by the pillow. “And remember—your side of the bed, my side of the bed. Cross that line and I’ll have you sleeping on the sand.”
Zayn chuckled, tossing his jacket onto a chair.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
“Yeah,” River said, turning away, his lips curving into a faint smile. “But admit it—I make this interesting.”
Zayn shook his head, grinning as he slipped under his side of the covers.
“You have no idea.”
River didn’t respond, already pretending to be asleep, but the small, smug smile on his lips said otherwise.
Zayn lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with a quiet laugh escaping him. For the first time in days, the tension that had wrapped around him like a vice seemed to ease.
Maybe, just maybe, this hadn’t been such a bad day after all.
To be continued...
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