Soft hum of jazz played through the speakers of Maison d’Étoile, one of the country’s most exclusive designer boutiques. The lighting was golden and deliberate, falling like sunlight through glass, meant to make every stitch and seam shimmer with quiet perfection.
Zayn stood in front of a full-length mirror, the kind framed in carved silver and surrounded by gentle halo lights. The reflection staring back at him almost didn’t look real. The suit — a deep, midnight blue tailored with sharp, precise lines — hugged his body like it had been made for him. The fabric glimmered faintly, smooth and rich, the subtle sheen catching the light every time he moved. A crisp white shirt sat beneath, open at the throat, and the jacket’s lapels curved elegantly over his chest.
The seamstress, a petite woman with glasses perched on her nose, fussed over the length of the sleeves.
“Turn your shoulder, Mr. Monroe,” she murmured, her tape measure whispering against the fabric.
Zayn complied, his smile tugging upward as he looked at himself again. The corners of his lips curved into a small, confident grin — not the usual mischievous one he wore at parties, but something quieter, more self-assured. For a moment, he almost forgot why he was even there. He looked good. No — he looked dangerously good.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, brushing a few strands away from his forehead, when a familiar voice sliced through the soft hum of the room.
“Well, well, I knew my best man would end up looking like he’s trying to steal the show at my wedding.”
Zayn turned, a smirk spreading across his face as Damian approached, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.
“You should be praying I don’t outdress you,” Zayn shot back smoothly, adjusting the collar of his jacket.
Damian chuckled, stepping into the mirror’s reflection beside him.
“Please. You could wear gold and still not pull it off better than me. My suit is going to outdo all of yours combined.”
The brothers laughed, the sound echoing softly in the elegant space. Damian gave him a brotherly nudge on the shoulder before adding, with a teasing glint in his eyes,
“River, huh? He’s… different. Not what I expected you to bring home.”
Zayn paused for a moment, his eyes flicking toward his reflection again.
“Different how?” he asked carefully.
“Different in a good way,” Damian said simply, crossing his arms. “He’s not like all those pretty boys you used to run around with. He’s got this… quiet fire about him. Keeps you on your toes.”
Zayn chuckled nervously, his smile thinning a little.
“Yeah, that’s River for you. Always full of surprises. Some days I feel like I don’t even know who he really is.”
Damian raised a brow, his expression softening.
“You’re supposed to know your boyfriend, you know.”
“I do,” Zayn said quickly — a little too quickly. He glanced away, the humor fading into something that almost looked like thought. “It’s just… the way he’s been clashing with Aunt Vee lately, it’s starting to make me a little uneasy. She’s not someone you want to get on the bad side of.”
Damian snorted.
“Oh, come on. You’re worried about that? If anything, I’m glad someone finally has the guts to stand up to her. Took long enough.” He smirked, clapping Zayn on the back. “You could use someone like that to balance you out.”
Zayn let out a laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Balance, huh? You make it sound like I’m some kind of disaster.”
“You are a disaster,” Damian teased. “But River doesn’t seem to mind.”
The seamstress cleared her throat politely, stepping back.
“That should be all for now, Mr. Monroe. We’ll have the adjustments done before the wedding.”
“Perfect,” Zayn said, undoing the top button of the jacket as he turned back toward the dressing area.
He took his time changing, his thoughts wandering in quiet spirals — about River’s unpredictability, his sharp tongue, the way he made even arguments feel electric.
When he stepped back out, Damian was waiting near the display tables, flipping through a rack of silk ties. They started walking toward the main section of the boutique together, still laughing lightly over whose suit would win the “best dressed” war at the wedding.
Then Zayn froze.
Just a few steps ahead, by the jewelry section, stood a familiar figure — one he absolutely did not want to see. He caught sight of the person’s profile, their posture, the unmistakable turn of their head — and his blood ran cold.
“Oh, hell no,” he muttered under his breath.
Without missing a beat, he spun dramatically toward a display of belts, pretending to examine them as if they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. His movements were almost comically deliberate — one hand in his pocket, the other lifting a random belt, squinting at it like he was deeply invested in leatherwork.
Damian blinked.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“Just—looking for something,” Zayn hissed, his tone clipped as he tried to hide his face behind a mannequin.
Damian frowned, confused.
“Zayn?”
“Not now,” Zayn muttered, ducking slightly as he grabbed the first thing he could find — a fedora, of all things — and shoved it on his head like some undercover agent. Then, without waiting, he started briskly walking toward another section, muttering under his breath, “Please don’t see me, please don’t see me…”
Damian’s laughter followed behind him.
“Who are you hiding from?”
“No one!” Zayn said far too quickly.
The smirk on Damian’s face widened as he caught up, draping an arm over his brother’s shoulders. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”
Zayn glared at him from beneath the ridiculous hat.
He froze the moment he caught sight of him — tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly handsome, the kind of man who made heads turn when he entered a room. The sharp jawline, that same lazy smile — God, it had to be him.
Not now. Not here.
Zayn’s pulse spiked, and before he even realized it, he was backing away, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
Damian frowned, confused.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Just—uh—wrong size, wrong suit, wrong—everything!” Zayn stammered, spinning on his heel and bolting toward the back of the shop.
“Zayn!” Damian called, trying to catch up. “What the hell are you doing?”
But Zayn didn’t respond. He darted past the perfume counter, through a maze of mannequins and accessories, his polished shoes clicking loudly against the marble floor. He glanced over his shoulder—too late. The man had spotted him.
“Oh, hell no,” Zayn muttered under his breath.
He turned sharply down another hallway, past a row of changing rooms, and without thinking, yanked open one of the doors. He slipped inside, shutting it quickly behind him. His breath came in sharp bursts as he leaned against the door.
Then—
“What are you doing?” came a voice from behind him.
Zayn jumped, spinning around so fast his heart nearly flew out of his chest—only to find River, standing shirtless, a shirt hanging around his neck. His hair was slightly messy, his chest bare and toned, and his expression frozen between surprise and disbelief.
Before River could say another word, Zayn slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Shhh!” Zayn whispered urgently, his other hand gesturing toward his own lips. “Don’t make a sound.”
River’s eyes widened, his heart hammering in his chest at the sudden closeness. Zayn was right there, so close that he could feel his breath fan against his skin, warm and quick. His pulse was doing somersaults. He tried to pry Zayn’s hand off his mouth, but the man held firm, pressing even closer, his scent—rich cologne and a trace of something woodsy—flooding the tiny space between them.
River’s mind was chaos. What the hell is happening? Why is he so close? And why… why does he smell so damn good?
Zayn’s eyes darted nervously toward the door.
“He’s here,” he hissed in a whisper.
River arched a brow, muffled words coming out against Zayn’s palm.
Zayn blinked.
“What? Oh—right.” He slowly lifted his hand.
River exhaled sharply, his voice low and annoyed.
“Who’s here, Zayn? What’s going on?”
Zayn leaned in closer, whispering in a conspiratorial tone,
“Someone I used to have a… uh… fling with. Months ago. He’s here. If he sees me, he’ll ruin everything.”
River blinked, stunned.
“A fling?”
Zayn nodded gravely, still whispering.
“The kind that doesn’t stay in the past.”
River tilted his head, his lips twitching despite the situation.
“Well, that’s your mess, not mine. I’m getting out of here before someone thinks we’re doing something weird.”
He turned to leave, but Zayn grabbed his arm and pinned him gently against the wall, his hand braced beside River’s head.
“Don’t move,” Zayn whispered, his voice low and husky.
River’s breath caught. His body went still as Zayn leaned closer, their faces mere inches apart. His heart thumped so hard it echoed in his ears. Zayn’s gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes, and River felt heat climb up his neck.
Okay, this is not happening. Nope. Definitely not… happening.
Zayn’s breath ghosted against his cheek, warm and unsteady. River could feel the tension thick between them, like the air itself had slowed down. His skin tingled. Every nerve in his body was on fire, screaming at him to do something, say something, breathe.
Then Zayn leaned in, his lips brushing the side of River’s cheek — not quite a kiss, just a dangerous whisper of one.
River’s thoughts went into meltdown.
Oh God. Oh no. Nope, this is bad. Abort mission. Abort mission!
Before either of them could say another word—
“River?” Liana’s voice rang from outside. “You’ve been in there forever! You okay?”
River’s eyes widened. His voice came out hoarse, rough from holding his breath.
“I—I’m coming out!”
Zayn’s grip tightened.
“No, don’t!” he whispered.
River glared at him, his pulse still racing.
“I am,” he hissed back.
Zayn shook his head, his eyes pleading.
“Just wait a minute—”
But River had already pulled away, snatching up his shirt from the chair. He slipped it on quickly, muttering, “Unbelievable,” under his breath. He opened the door and stepped out, tugging the buttons in place as casually as possible.
Liana stood there, arms crossed, looking suspicious.
“What took you so long—” She stopped mid-sentence as Zayn emerged behind him, hair slightly tousled, eyes scanning the shop nervously.
Her mouth fell open.
“Oh.” She grinned wickedly. “Oh. That’s why.”
River’s eyes widened.
“No—no, no, it’s not what you’re thinking!”
Zayn quickly added,
“Exactly! It’s not what you’re thinking!”
Liana smirked, arching an eyebrow.
“What am I thinking, exactly? That your man couldn’t get enough of you at home, so you decided to sneak some fun into the changing room?”
River’s jaw dropped.
“Liana!”
Zayn rubbed his forehead.
“Please stop talking.”
Before either could respond, Damian, appeared from the other aisle, looking utterly confused. Damian’s gaze bounced between his brother, River, and Liana, before he raised a brow.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked. “Zayn, were you running away from someone? A guy? Who was that?”
Zayn opened his mouth, but the words tangled up in his throat.
“I—uh—it’s not—it wasn’t like that, it’s just—”
River sighed dramatically and stepped in, his expression instantly switching into one of mock sadness.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to hide it from them. They deserve to know who that man was.”
Zayn blinked, startled.
“They do?”
River nodded gravely, glancing at the couple.
“He’s… he’s the one Zayn almost made a mistake with. The one who wanted him even though he told him he was taken.”
Zayn’s mouth fell open.
“Wait—what?”
River kept going, his tone perfectly tragic.
“It’s fine, Zayn. You didn’t do anything. I believe you. Mostly.” He looked away dramatically.
Liana’s eyes widened, gasped softly. Damian looked between them in stunned silence.
“Wait—so that guy was someone you almost—” Damian began.
Zayn nearly choked.
“No! I mean—yes—but no! It wasn’t like that!” He turned to River. “You’re seriously making this worse!”
River crossed his arms, playing the role perfectly.
“Maybe next time, you can tell me about your obsessed past flings before they show up in public.”
“I didn’t expect him to show up!” Zayn protested, exasperated.
“Still not an excuse,” River shot back, already walking away.
“River—come on!” Zayn called, hurrying after him. “It was ages ago! I didn’t even know he’d be here!”
River glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching as he barely managed to suppress a smile.
“Keep talking, lover boy. Maybe I’ll believe you by the end of the day.”
Behind them, Damian exhaled, rubbing his temples. Liana burst out laughing, leaning against her fiancé.
“Are they… always like this?”
Damian sighed.
“Apparently, yes.”
As Zayn chased after River across the boutique, pleading half-seriously, half-desperately, Liana grinned and said under her breath,
“Well… if that wasn’t the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week, I don’t know what is.”
***
Zayn pushed open the door to their room with his shoulder, juggling a couple of glossy shopping bags in one hand and a box tucked beneath his arm. The moment they stepped in, he dropped everything onto the plush carpet with a groan of relief.
“Finally,” he breathed, rolling his shoulders dramatically. “If I had to smile at one more sales clerk, I was gonna lose it.”
River, balancing his own bags carefully, shut the door behind them and glanced around the room — it was bathed in the soft gold of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the balcony curtains. He knelt to set down the boxes neatly near the bed while Zayn, in full exhaustion mode, threw himself backward onto the mattress, landing with a muffled thud.
The bed creaked softly as Zayn spread his arms wide and exhaled a long, deep sigh, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“That… was intense,” he murmured. “I thought things were gonna go so wrong today.”
River sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other, his expression halfway between amusement and curiosity.
“You think?” he asked dryly. “You almost gave Liana a heart attack. Who exactly were you trying to run from anyway?”
Zayn groaned and threw an arm over his face.
“Just some guy I was seeing a few months ago,” he said. “Total lunatic. Started sending me weird love notes, showing up at my office, calling nonstop. I had to get a restraining order against him. If he saw me today, he probably would’ve made a scene.”
River’s brows shot up.
“Wait, a stalker?”
Zayn nodded, still covering his face.
“Yeah. The guy was obsessed. And if he had seen me there, he would’ve told everyone we used to be a thing — which would’ve blown this entire act apart.”
River let out a low whistle.
“Damn. That would’ve been wild.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But honestly, what kind of people are you even getting yourself involved with?”
Zayn peeked at him from beneath his arm, smirking faintly.
“The crazy kind. Trust me, you wouldn’t wanna know.”
River rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“You’re unbelievable. Seriously.”
“Hey,” Zayn said, finally lowering his arm and turning his head toward River, “thanks to your quick thinking, I got out of that one alive. You really saved my ass back there.”
River smirked, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Just trying to protect my investment,” he said with a wink.
Zayn chuckled, the tension from earlier melting away.
“You know,” he said, his voice softer, “you’re not so bad after all. When this whole thing started, I thought you’d be cold, uptight, maybe even boring.” He laughed under his breath. “But you’re actually… a cool guy. You’ve even got some of my family wrapped around your finger already. Keep it up and they’ll start singing your praises at breakfast.”
River gave him a playful side-eye.
“Well, what can I say? I’m a people person.”
Zayn grinned.
“And that’s exactly what we need. The more they love you, the better this plan works.” He pushed himself up, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Without warning, he draped an arm around River’s shoulders, pulling him close and ruffling his hair.
“Hey!” River protested, laughing as he tried to swat him away. “You’re messing it up!”
Zayn ignored him, laughing as he planted a quick kiss on River’s cheek.
“That’s a thank you,” he said, his grin wide. “For saving me. And for being such a vibe.”
River’s laughter softened into a bright smile.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice quieter now, but warm.
Zayn flopped forward onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow.
“God, my back’s killing me,” he groaned, stretching his arms out dramatically. “I’m tense as hell. I could really use a massage right now.”
River chuckled and smacked him lightly on the back.
“Oh, so that’s why you were being all nice, huh? All that sweet talk was just to butter me up for a massage.”
Zayn turned his head to the side, grinning lazily.
“What? No! I meant every word. But…” —he stretched again, making an exaggerated sound of relief— “you have to admit it would make things look more real, right? I mean, boyfriends take care of each other.”
River arched a brow.
“Boyfriends also don’t beg like puppies.”
“I’m not begging,” Zayn said, rolling onto his back to look at him with mock seriousness. “I’m just… strongly suggesting. I mean, you could even use your feet if you want.”
River stared at him, incredulous.
“My feet? Are you out of your mind?”
Zayn shrugged innocently.
“Hey, desperate times. I’m dying here.”
River snorted, crossing his arms.
“You’re not dying, drama queen.”
Zayn rolled closer, resting his chin on River’s knee and giving him exaggerated puppy eyes.
“Pleaseee?”
“Zayn—”
“Just five minutes. Promise.”
River sighed, muttering something under his breath.
“You’re impossible.”
“So that’s a yes?” Zayn grinned.
River groaned in defeat.
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if I break your spine.”
Zayn grinned triumphantly and rolled back onto his stomach, folding his arms under his head.
“Ah, see? I knew you couldn’t resist my charm.”
River shook his head, trying not to smile as he climbed up onto the bed and knelt beside him.
“You’ve got something, that’s for sure,” he said under his breath.
As River began pressing his palms along Zayn’s shoulders, he felt the man exhale deeply, almost melting under his touch.
“God, that’s good,” Zayn muttered. “You might actually have magic hands.”
River chuckled, pressing down a little harder.
“Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time offer.”
“Mm, sure it is,” Zayn murmured, voice muffled against the pillow. “You’ll see. You’ll be doing this every night before you know it.”
River rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his lips.
“Keep dreaming.”
Zayn hummed contentedly.
“Best dream ever.”
River shook his head again, but the soft sound of Zayn’s laughter filled the room, blending with the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the muffled crash of waves outside.
“Ahh… lower,” Zayn muttered between heavy breaths, his voice languid and thick. “Yeah, right there, baby.”
River hesitated for half a second at the pet name, then smirked faintly and pressed his thumbs lower, working into the small of Zayn’s back. Zayn moaned again, his body arching slightly.
“Damn,” Zayn groaned, his voice low and gravelly, “you’ve got magic hands, I swear. Right there, don’t stop.”
River chuckled quietly, amused by the dramatics.
“You’re such a baby,” he teased, leaning forward as he kneaded into the muscles. “Is this all, Your Highness?”
Zayn’s voice came muffled into the pillow.
“Actually… I’d appreciate it if you walked on my back softly. I’m serious—it feels divine when someone does that.”
River blinked, then looked at him suspiciously.
“Walk on your back?”
“Yeah,” Zayn said, half turning to grin at him. “You’re small, you won’t crush me. Trust me, I know what I’m asking for.”
“Small?” River huffed, pretending to be offended. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Still, River climbed carefully onto the bed and placed one foot on Zayn’s back, testing his balance before the second followed. Zayn let out a low grunt that quickly turned into a groan of pleasure.
“Oh my God, yes—just like that,” Zayn said, his tone somewhere between bliss and exhaustion. “Don’t stop. You’re a damn genius, River.”
River bit back a laugh as he shifted his weight and began stepping slowly along Zayn’s back, occasionally pressing harder near the shoulders.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “You like that?”
Zayn groaned again.
“No one does it better than you. You’re incredible, baby. Right there, right there—yeah…”
Meanwhile, outside the door, Harry stood frozen, his ear pressed close against the wood. His eyes widened as the moans filtered through, each sound stabbing at his chest.
“Lower,” Zayn groaned again. “Ah—careful, River, you’re not riding a horse!”
River laughed breathlessly.
“I was thinking maybe I was!”
Harry’s heart lurched in his chest. His hand clenched into a fist against the door frame as a flush crept up his neck. Oh my God… they’re—right now? He stepped back, staring at the door in disbelief as another round of moans followed.
Inside, Zayn was writhing slightly, laughing between groans.
“You’re insane, River—God, this feels so good, I swear…”
River, trying to hold his balance, grinned.
“You almost there?”
Zayn laughed breathlessly.
“With the way I’m feeling? I don’t wanna reach the climax just yet!”
That was it. The turning point. Harry’s entire expression crumbled into devastation and disbelief. He staggered backward, pressing a trembling hand to his forehead.
“What the hell…” he whispered to himself, feeling his chest tighten painfully. He clenched his jaw, his mind spiraling. The muffled laughter from inside only twisted the knife deeper.
He didn’t wait another second. Groaning under his breath, Harry turned and stormed down the hallway, his face red, his steps quick and uneven. His fists were tight at his sides, and his mind was a hurricane of jealousy and anger. Every moan echoing behind him only fueled his frustration.
So that’s what they are now… just like that.
By the time he reached the end of the corridor, he was practically running—like the hounds of hell were chasing him. He didn’t care who saw him, didn’t care how loud his footsteps were. He just needed to get away from the sound, from the ache burning in his chest.
Inside the room, River finally stepped off Zayn’s back and collapsed beside him, laughing uncontrollably. Zayn turned his head, face flushed from laughter and relaxation.
“What’s so funny?”
River wiped at his eyes.
“You should’ve heard yourself! If anyone passed by, they’d think I was murdering you—or doing something else entirely.”
Zayn laughed even harder, pressing a hand over his chest.
“Well, I wouldn’t blame them. You did make me feel heavenly.”
The two burst into another fit of laughter, completely unaware of the emotional chaos they had just caused down the hall.
***
The sun glistened across the wide stretch of the Monroe estate pool, its surface rippling like liquid sapphire. Veronica reclined on a white lounge chair, a large straw hat tilted low over her sunglasses, her long silk cover-up fluttering in the soft breeze. The scent of jasmine perfume and sunscreen hung in the air as she delicately adjusted her posture, tilting her face just enough to catch the rays. Beside her, a tall glass of iced rosé dripped condensation down its side, untouched but perfectly placed.
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps.
Harry stormed down the marble steps, his chest heaving, jaw tight, and expression stormy. His usually sleek hair was tousled, and his shirt was half-buttoned as though he had forgotten himself in his rush. Veronica heard him before she saw him, and she sighed dramatically without even lifting her head.
“Harry, darling,” she said lazily, her voice smooth and cool as the ice in her drink. “You’re blocking my sun. I’m trying to tan.”
But Harry ignored her poised annoyance and dropped heavily onto the lounge chair beside hers. His hands gripped his knees, his body taut with frustration.
“This isn’t working,” he snapped. “Whatever I thought was going to happen with Zayn—it’s not. That boy, River… he’s taking ahold of him.”
Veronica tilted her head slightly, lowering her sunglasses just enough to peer at him with bored elegance.
“If you don’t know how to keep a man, Harry, I’m afraid I can’t teach you.”
Harry turned toward her sharply, his eyes blazing.
“You’re joking, right? I’m more handsome than him, way sexier, and—come on—I’m more appealing than that… that little thing, aren’t I? Then why the hell is Zayn not paying attention to me anymore?”
Veronica’s red lips curved into an amused, knowing smile.
“Sweetheart,” she murmured, reaching for her drink and swirling it idly. “You men and your egos. You think looks are everything.” She took a slow sip before continuing, her tone unbothered. “Zayn isn’t blind, Harry. But he’s emotional. He’s impulsive. And right now, River is feeding him something you aren’t—comfort, adoration, mystery. You gave him absence. You gave him the wound he’s now trying to heal.”
Harry’s nostrils flared.
“You wouldn’t believe what I heard when I went to their room,” he said tightly. “They were—having sex, Veronica. Actual sex. I heard everything. I don’t even want to think about it, but it’s eating me alive.”
Veronica didn’t flinch. She set her glass down and looked at him fully, eyes glinting beneath the rim of her hat.
“They’re dating, aren’t they? What did you expect them to do—watch movies and pray together?”
Harry’s expression twisted, torn between anger and embarrassment.
“Last time I checked,” Veronica continued coolly, “you were the one who left Zayn. You walked away when he got disowned by his father, remember? That was your mistake. You abandoned him when he needed you, and now another man filled that space.”
She leaned back, crossing her long legs.
“If you want him back, you’ll need to fight for it. Seduce him. Charm him. Make him remember what he’s missing. Because let’s be honest, darling—Zayn is still very much in love with you. I can see it every time your name comes up.”
Harry looked down, his chest rising and falling.
“He didn’t look in love when I saw him today,” he muttered bitterly. “He looked happy—with him.”
“Temporary happiness,” Veronica said smoothly. “A distraction. Don’t be fooled by the sparkle, Harry. River may have his attention, but you—” she reached out, tapping his chest lightly with a manicured finger “—you have his heart. You just need to remind him who he belonged to before all this.”
She reclined again, the sunlight glinting off her golden bracelet.
“Remember what’s at stake, Harry. This isn’t just about love or pride. There’s a goal here—one far more important than your jealousy. You know what Zayn’s position in the family means, what it could mean for you if you’re by his side. Don’t lose focus.”
Harry’s breathing slowed, but his eyes still burned with frustration.
“And River?” he asked. “What about him?”
Veronica smiled—a slow, dangerous smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Oh, River will pay,” she said softly. “For every insult, every little act of defiance. He thinks he’s clever for standing up to me, but he hasn’t seen what happens when I decide someone needs to be taught a lesson.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost like a promise.
“We’ll deal with him. But first—you need to start winning again, Harry. Make Zayn remember the fire you two had. Make him feel guilty for letting it go. And when the time comes…” she paused, taking another sip of her drink, “he’ll choose you. He always does.”
Harry exhaled slowly, trying to hide the small, wicked smile forming at the corner of his lips. He looked toward the pool, where the sunlight shimmered like gold, and nodded faintly.
“You’re right,” he said. “He’ll come back to me. He has to.”
Veronica gave a soft hum of approval, closing her eyes once more. “
“That’s the spirit, darling. Now, let me get back to my tan before you cast another shadow on me.”
Harry sat there, thinking, plotting and trying his best to come up with the best way.
***
The night air was alive with the soft roar of waves and the golden flicker of the bonfire ahead, its warmth spilling across the cool sand. Zayn walked along the beach, his hands buried in his pockets, the ocean breeze brushing against his hair. He was headed toward the glow where laughter, music, and voices mingled—toward River, who was somewhere near the fire with the others.
But before he could reach it, a hand gripped his wrist and yanked him backward, hard enough to make him stumble.
Zayn’s breath caught. He turned sharply—only to find himself face to face with Harry.
The closeness sent a jolt through him. Harry’s familiar scent—cologne, salt, and something dark—hit him like a memory he’d tried to bury. His chest tightened, his pulse skipping a beat.
“H–Harry,” Zayn managed, his voice unsteady.
Harry smiled, that same boyish, dangerous grin that once made Zayn weak in the knees.
“Hey, tiger,” he murmured, his tone low, teasing, and intimate enough to make Zayn’s throat go dry.
Zayn took a subtle step back, trying to regain his composure.
“What’s going on? Did you… want something?”
Harry’s smile softened, but there was still that glint in his eyes—one part desire, one part regret.
“I just—” he began, stepping closer until the space between them was barely a breath. “We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk since I came back. I just wanted to know how you’ve been.”
Zayn’s pulse pounded in his ears. The sight of him so close again—the same eyes, the same voice—made something twist painfully inside him. He wanted to look unaffected, but the truth was he still felt it, that spark he had never managed to extinguish.
“I’ve been fine,” Zayn said finally, forcing a half-smile. “But what exactly did you want to talk about, Harry?”
Harry hesitated, then his voice dropped lower. “Us.”
Zayn blinked.
“Us?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his tone rough now. “What happened… how we ended. I know I messed up, Zayn. I was stupid, scared, selfish—whatever you wanna call it. But I need to explain. I can’t just let you go on thinking—”
“There’s no need,” Zayn interrupted softly, though his voice carried a tremor. “We’ve both moved on. I’m happy now, Harry. With my boyfriend. That’s all that matters.”
Harry’s jaw flexed. He could see it in Zayn’s eyes—the calm, the restraint—but beneath it, a flicker of something else.
Zayn gave him a sheepish, polite smile and turned to leave. But before he could take another step, Harry grabbed his arm again—gentler this time, but firm—and suddenly pulled him close.
Zayn barely had time to breathe before Harry’s lips crashed against his.
It wasn’t soft. It was desperate. A clash of history, regret, and everything unspoken. Zayn froze, every nerve in his body screaming confusion. His first instinct was to push Harry away—but then… that familiar taste, that warmth… and before he knew it, his lips had begun to respond.
The world seemed to melt—the firelight in the distance, the sound of the waves—everything except the electric pulse running through him.
Then, as if waking from a trance, Zayn tore himself away. His chest heaved, and he stared at Harry with wide, breathless eyes. His lips trembled slightly as if unsure whether to speak or stay silent.
Harry, still close enough for their breaths to mingle, whispered,
“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that.”
Zayn’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. He wanted to lie. He wanted to say no. But words refused to come. He just turned away, muttering something inaudible, and started walking toward the bonfire, each step heavier than the last.
Harry stood there, watching him disappear into the light, his own heart sinking. But beneath the sting of rejection, he had felt it—the hesitation, the longing buried deep in that kiss. And that was enough to spark something dangerous in him again. Hope.
By the time Zayn reached the bonfire, laughter filled the air again. River was there, his face lit by the firelight, his laughter warm and unguarded. Liana sat nestled between Damian’s legs, her fingers fumbling on the strings of a guitar as Damian guided her hands, both of them singing softly, playfully, a love song that made everyone around them smile.
River clapped along, his laughter rising above the crackling of the flames. The sight of them—Liana’s head thrown back, Damian looking at her like she was the only person in the world—made something inside River ache. It was sweet, simple, real. He wanted that kind of love someday.
As he sat there smiling, he suddenly felt something warm press against his back. He almost jumped, turning quickly—only to find Zayn settling down behind him, his legs opening so that River was now sitting between them.
Zayn wrapped his arms around River’s waist, pulling him close. The sudden intimacy made River’s breath hitch. His pulse fluttered as Zayn rested his chin lightly on his shoulder.
“Zayn—” he started, his voice tight, “what are you—”
But before he could finish, Zayn pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.
River froze. His heart was pounding so loud it drowned out the music. The firelight danced on their faces, and for a moment, it didn’t feel fake. It didn’t feel like they were pretending anymore.
He turned slightly to look at Zayn and saw that smile—gentle, easy, the same one that had caught him off guard earlier that day. He was warm. He was close. He was trouble.
“Dammit,” River thought, “why does he have to smell this good?”
He tried to focus on the music, but his chest was tightening with something unfamiliar. Maybe it was the fire, or maybe it was the way Zayn’s fingers brushed lazily along his arm, drawing invisible patterns. Maybe it was because River was the kind of fool who felt too much too quickly.
Damian and Liana’s voices rose together now, soft and romantic—
‘Cause all of me loves all of you…
River’s heart clenched as he stared at them. He could almost imagine himself there, with someone who meant it. Someone who wanted him, not for a show, not for a lie.
Zayn smiled faintly, but his eyes weren’t on the couple—they were locked on someone else. Across the flames, Harry stood near the edge of the gathering, staring right back at him.
Their gazes met—intense, electric, heavy with everything that kiss had started and left unfinished.
And as the fire crackled between them, River leaned a little back against Zayn without realizing it… just as Zayn’s eyes darkened with something else entirely.
The song reached its softest verse. The wind shifted. The tension lingered in the air, unspoken but thick.
Three hearts. One fire.
And a storm brewing beneath the calm.
To be continued...
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Wattpad.
