The early morning breeze brushed through the palm trees, the sound of the ocean soft in the background. Zayn sat alone on the patio, his cup of coffee untouched on the small glass table beside him. He looked exhausted. His mind was running in circles, replaying the events from the previous night over and over again.
Harry’s drunken confession.
The kiss.
River’s expression before he left.
He had searched every corner of the resort afterward—by the pool, near the restaurant, even the beach cabanas—but River was nowhere to be found. For a while, Zayn had almost believed he’d packed up and left. And the thought of that twisted his stomach painfully.
He took another sip of his coffee, though it had already gone cold, and rubbed his temples. Maybe he really left… he thought. Maybe I pushed him too far.
Then, a voice broke through the quiet.
“Good morning, partner!”
Zayn froze. His eyes shot up so fast he nearly spilled the cup. And there he was—River—standing by the doorway in a white loose shirt and shorts, barefoot, his hair messy in the most disarmingly beautiful way. He was holding the big teddy bear from the previous night, clutching it against his chest like a child. His smile was as radiant and cheeky as ever.
Zayn almost jumped from his seat.
“River?! Where the hell were you? I’ve been looking for you all night!”
River blinked innocently, walking toward the table.
“Why?” he asked with a straight face, his tone so casual it almost sounded like a joke.
“Why?” Zayn repeated, incredulous. “Because last time I checked, we’re supposed to be the perfect couple!”
River tilted his head, pretending to think.
“Ohhh, right,” he said with mock realization before dramatically sighing and plopping into the chair beside him. “Well, for your information, I was asleep—in the room behind the main resort.”
Zayn frowned, his jaw tightening.
“That’s the servant’s quarters, River.”
“Yeah,” River replied, stroking the teddy’s fur. “I figured it matched my current status—unwanted, unnecessary, and totally out of place.” He gave an exaggerated sniff, pretending to wipe a tear.
Zayn groaned, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re impossible.”
River leaned back in the chair, grinning.
“Or maybe I just didn’t want to interrupt your little reunion with Harry.”
Zayn’s brow furrowed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
River turned toward him, his eyes gleaming mischievously.
“You told me to wait for you. Wait for you to do what exactly, huh? Watch you hug him? Or maybe kiss him again?”
Zayn’s mouth opened but no words came out.
“It—it wasn’t like that. I already took Harry to his room last night. Nothing happened.”
River chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“Zayn, come on. You need to be honest with yourself if you ever want to be happy.” His tone shifted—softer, but edged with pain. “You still have unresolved feelings for Harry. And it showed yesterday—in the pool, in the way you looked at him, in the way you jumped in after him without even realizing that I was the one actually drowning.”
Zayn’s face fell.
“I didn’t see you. Harry—”
“Harry pushed me,” River interrupted firmly, setting the teddy bear down and looking him dead in the eye. “He did it on purpose, to prove a point. And you proved it for him when you went straight to save him.”
Zayn’s breath caught.
“He what?”
River nodded, his expression unreadable.
“Don’t look so surprised. You already know he’s competitive—and territorial.” He sighed, resting his chin on his palm. “I’m not blaming you, Zayn. I get it. You two have history. But let’s stop pretending that it’s not still affecting you.”
“That’s not true,” Zayn muttered, though his voice wavered. “Maybe you misunderstood him.”
River’s lips curved into a bitter smile.
“Sure. Maybe I also misunderstood when he told me you two kissed—and maybe I imagined last night, too.”
Zayn went quiet. Guilt spread across his face like a slow shadow.
River stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly. “We’re nothing to each other, remember? Just two strangers playing a game for a common goal.”
Zayn’s throat tightened.
“I’ll keep playing the perfect boyfriend,” River continued, lifting the teddy bear and hugging it to his chest again. “But here’s some advice, Zayn—free of charge.” He looked straight into his eyes. “Be honest with yourself. If you want to be with Harry, then say it. And if you don’t, then make that clear too. Because the last thing I want is to say something to Harry that might ruin your second chance with him.”
Zayn stared at him, his jaw tightening.
“Whatever Harry and I had—it’s in the past.”
River’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he turned to leave.
“Then tell that to your heart,” he said softly, walking away.
Zayn watched him disappear through the corridor, the sound of his footsteps fading with every second. The morning breeze brushed against his face again, but now it felt cold—empty.
He leaned back in his chair, his coffee still untouched, and stared out toward the sea.
River’s words echoed in his head like a storm he couldn’t escape.
Tell that to your heart.
And for the first time, Zayn realized—he couldn’t.
***
River’s footsteps echoed through the long corridor leading back to his room, the morning light slanting in through the tall windows. His thoughts were a mess, spinning like a whirlpool he couldn’t escape from.
He shouldn’t have been angry. He really shouldn’t. He had no right to be. Zayn had been his crush long before the man even knew who he was — before their little fake relationship had ever begun. But somewhere along the line, his stupid heart had stopped pretending. And now… now, everything hurt more than it should.
He kicked at the carpet, sighing. Why does it feel like this? he thought bitterly. He doesn’t owe me anything.
Then — a sharp, high-pitched laugh pierced through the hallway. It wasn’t just any laugh. It was manic, theatrical, the kind that belonged to someone who lived for drama.
River froze mid-step, his head snapping up.
And there she was.
Veronica Monroe.
She stood at the far end of the corridor, perfectly posed like she was waiting for an invisible camera to start rolling. Her hair was immaculate, her dress spotless, and her smirk gleamed with pure satisfaction.
“Well, well, well…” she purred, exhaling as if she’d just tasted victory. “You look awfully sad this morning, sweetheart. Where are you coming from this early?”
River didn’t answer. He just looked at her — blankly, silently — his teddy bear hanging loosely from his arm.
Veronica stepped closer, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
“How does it feel, hmm?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Spending the night all alone, knowing your boyfriend spent it with Harry?”
River’s jaw clenched.
“I told you,” she continued, tilting her head. “You don’t belong with the men of Monroe. You’re not classy enough. Not beautiful enough. And certainly not rich enough.” Her smile widened, poisonous. “But most importantly, crossing me was the biggest mistake of your life. Because, darling—” she tapped her manicured nail against his chest “—I always strike back. And hard.”
River exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You know,” he said under his breath, “I was actually trying to avoid you.”
Veronica blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“But since you clearly can’t take a hint,” he continued, raising his head with a sharp grin, “and you seem desperate for my attention… fine. You can have it.”
Her brows furrowed.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” she asked, crossing her arms.
River tilted his head, his tone suddenly sweet.
“You said Zayn and I are facing problems because of Harry?” He paused, squinting dramatically. “You’re delusional.”
That one hit her like a slap — her mouth opened slightly in shock, though she quickly composed herself.
“Let me clarify something,” River said, stepping closer. “Yes, Harry came to the room last night. Yes, he was drunk. Yes, he said things he shouldn’t have. I got upset and left. But guess who looked for me all night and now has dark circles the size of Texas?” He smiled like a predator. “Zayn. My Zayn.”
Her lips twitched.
“Harry didn’t get anything,” River continued smugly. “Nothing happened. But I guess now I know where Harry gets his delusions from — you.”
Veronica gave a little shrug, feigning nonchalance.
“Anything to make sure my nephew is happy.”
River laughed — loudly, mockingly.
“Happy? You don’t give a damn about Zayn’s happiness.” His voice dropped, sharper now. “You just want him to be as miserable as you are.”
That one landed.
Veronica’s smile vanished.
“What?” she hissed.
River’s tone turned almost playful.
“Oh, come on, don’t act surprised. You’re laughing about me sleeping alone, but that’s something you can relate to, isn’t it? You’ve been doing it your whole life.”
Her breaths started coming faster, her jaw trembling as the insult sank in.
“Didn’t your brother mention,” River continued casually, “that your marriage lasted, what—two minutes?” He laughed, delighted by the stunned expression on her face. “You go around lecturing people about love when you can’t even hold a husband for the length of a commercial break.”
“Stop it,” she hissed, voice shaking.
“Oh no, no, no,” River said, leaning closer, voice low and cruelly sweet. “You’re not happy, Veronica. You just want everyone else to be miserable like you. You’re old, bitter, and about as appealing as expired yogurt. The kind that thinks it’s still fresh.”
“Watch your mouth,” Veronica snarled, her voice trembling with rage.
“I am watching my mouth,” River said with a dark chuckle. “That’s me restricting myself.”
Her eyes widened — shock and fury mixing like fire and gasoline.
River stepped closer, his tone suddenly venomous.
“You talk about beauty, right? Elena — gorgeous. Zayn — stunning. Damian — model-tier.Leonardo - godlike. But you?” He gave a laugh. “Sweetheart, what beauty are you talking about? The one you bought?”
Her nostrils flared.
“Let me guess — we’re talking about your ‘natural’ features,” River mocked, ticking his fingers. “The Botox? The fillers? The lip injections? Or those eyebrows that look permanently surprised? And don’t even get me started on that BBL — honey, everyone can see it looks like stacked-up diapers balanced on toothpick legs!”
That did it.
With a furious scream, Veronica snapped. Her hand flew across his face with a sharp crack that echoed through the hall.
River’s head jerked to the side, his cheek stinging red.
“I have never met someone so disrespectful in my entire life!” she spat, breathing hard. “You’re exactly what I said you were — ghetto! You don’t belong anywhere near the Monroe family!”
River slowly turned his head back, eyes blazing — and before either of them realized it, his hand swung back on instinct.
The backhand landed hard. Crack!
Veronica stumbled, gasping, and before she could steady herself — another slap met the opposite cheek.
She screamed, falling to the floor, both hands clutching her face as tears welled up in her eyes.
River pointed down at her, finger trembling with fury.
“Don’t ever try that again. I don’t care how rich or powerful you think you are. Don’t ever put your hands on me.”
Veronica stuttered, voice breaking.
“W–what did you just do?”
River straightened, his tone icy.
“What you deserved. And here’s a warning—Veronica might go low, but River?” He smiled coldly. “I’ll take it straight to hell.”
With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving her trembling on the floor, too stunned to even cry.
The moment River stepped into his room, the adrenaline began to fade — and panic set in.
He threw the teddy bear on the bed and gripped his hair hard.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” he yelled, pacing. “What did I just do?!”
He stared at his hands like they were guilty of murder.
“She’s Veronica Monroe! Zayn’s aunt! Oh, I’m so dead.”
He slapped his own cheek, groaning.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
He looked around wildly, talking to himself.
“Okay, River, calm down. Maybe she won’t tell anyone. Maybe she’ll… she’ll forget? No, no, that witch never forgets—”
He let out a dramatic scream, throwing himself face-first onto the bed.
“I’m doomed!”
Then he sat up abruptly.
“Okay, shower. I need a shower. I need to process this in water before I start packing to flee the country.”
Grabbing his towel, he pointed at the teddy bear like it could answer him.
“Don’t look at me like that, Zayn Jr. You saw nothing!”
With that, he stormed into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the air — and somewhere, Veronica Monroe was still sitting on the floor, clutching her face, her shock slowly melting into a promise of revenge.
***
The air carried the faint scent of salt and blooming hibiscus, mingling with the soft hum of the ocean waves rolling toward the shore. Leonardo sat with Elena on the patio of their suite, the wooden chairs creaking faintly beneath them. Between them sat two glasses of chilled white wine, condensation running down the sides.
Elena leaned back, her soft laughter floating through the evening air.
“Do you remember,” she began with a tender smile, “when Damian was little and he used to sprint down that very stretch of sand just so he wouldn’t get caught when you told him it was bath time?”
Leonardo’s chuckle was deep and warm.
“Oh, I remember. He’d scream that he was a pirate and the water was lava. I nearly broke my neck trying to catch him one time.”
Elena laughed harder, touching his hand.
“And then you pretended to faint on the sand so he’d come back.”
He smiled, eyes softening at the memory.
“Worked every time.”
Their laughter lingered between them, mingling with the rhythmic sound of the sea. For a rare moment, everything felt peaceful—years of chaos, arguments, and family tension washed away by nostalgia. Leonardo turned to her, watching the way her hair fluttered lightly in the wind. He thought about how much she had endured—how much they both had.
Elena rested her head lightly on his shoulder, murmuring,
“It feels good to see everyone here again. Even if they’re all driving each other mad.”
Leonardo smiled faintly.
“That’s family. Mad, loud, and impossible to manage.”
Before Elena could reply, a sharp voice split through the calm air.
“Leonardo!”
The sound cut through the tranquility like a blade. They both turned sharply to find Veronica storming toward them, her expression twisted with rage. Her hair was a tangled mess, strands sticking to her flushed cheeks, and her eyes were glassy with a mixture of fury and humiliation. Even from a distance, it was clear that her cheeks were red and swollen—the clear mark of a slap or two.
“Leonardo!” she repeated, her voice trembling now, part anger, part desperation.
Leonardo straightened, his brows furrowing.
“Veronica, what—?”
But before he could finish, she was already in front of them, her chest heaving.
“I want River out of this resort,” she spat out, pointing furiously in the direction of the bungalows. “There’s no way I’m staying under the same roof as someone who’s ghetto and violent!”
Elena blinked, caught between shock and disbelief, while Leonardo’s expression hardened.
“Veronica,” he said, rubbing his temples, “what drama have you brought now?”
“Drama?” she snapped, eyes wide with indignation. “Leonardo, look at my face!” She leaned closer, forcing him to see the faint red marks on her cheek. “That man—your precious River—insulted me and then slapped me!”
For a second, there was silence. Then, unexpectedly, Elena let out a small chuckle that quickly turned into a full laugh before she caught herself and covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she said between quiet giggles. “I just… River doesn’t strike me as someone who would slap anyone. If he did, then, darling, I’m willing to bet you pushed him to the edge.”
Veronica’s head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing.
“You think that’s funny?” she hissed.
Elena raised her brows calmly.
“No. I think it’s predictable.”
Leonardo tried to stifle his own smirk but failed.
“Veronica,” he said slowly, “River isn’t a violent person. So what did you do?”
That stopped her cold. Her mouth dropped slightly, disbelief written all over her face.
“I—what? Are you seriously taking his side right now?”
Leonardo sighed deeply.
“I’m not taking sides. I’m asking you a question.”
She stared at him as if he’d just betrayed her.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “My own brother can’t even come to my defense. What happened to you?”
“What happened,” Leonardo replied firmly, “is that I’ve watched you cause one scene after another for years. You’re impulsive, you’re loud, and you love stirring chaos wherever you go. If River did slap you—which, knowing him, must’ve taken a lot—then you must have pushed him hard. He probably just met someone who doesn’t put up with your nonsense.”
The words struck like a whip. Veronica’s eyes filled with fury and disbelief.
“So that’s it? You’re defending a stranger over your sister?” she demanded, voice rising.
Leonardo’s jaw tightened.
“If it were one of my sons in his place, I’d tell them the same thing. You can’t keep acting like you’re twenty, Veronica. You’re grown. You want respect from the younger ones? Then start acting your age.”
Her lips trembled, both from anger and the sting of humiliation.
“You’d really say that to me?” she choked out. “After everything I’ve done for this family?”
Elena spoke softly but firmly,
“You’ve done a lot, yes—but you’ve also done a lot to this family. Maybe it’s time someone was honest with you.”
Veronica’s eyes glistened.
“You know what? Fine. Keep your violent little friend. But don’t expect me to share the same air as him.”
With that, she turned sharply, her heels clicking angrily against the tiled floor as she stormed away, muttering curses under her breath.
When she was finally gone, silence fell again, broken only by the sound of the waves. Leonardo let out a long, weary sigh, leaning back in his chair.
“Well,” he murmured dryly, “glad that’s over.”
Elena chuckled softly, shaking her head.
“She’ll never change, will she?”
He smiled faintly, rubbing his jaw.
“Not unless a miracle happens. But I meant what I said—she needed to hear it.”
Elena turned to him, her hand finding his.
“You did the right thing. Someone had to stop enabling her tantrums. River just happened to be the one who finally stood his ground.”
Leonardo smiled tiredly.
“I just hope he hasn’t scared her into packing up. Damian will have a heart attack if the two of them start another fight.”
Elena laughed quietly.
“At least it’s never boring around here.”
He squeezed her hand, his expression softening as the sunlight reflected in her eyes.
“No, it isn’t. Not with this family.”
And as the waves continued to crash against the shore, Leonardo leaned back, letting the peace return—knowing all too well it wouldn’t last for long.
***
The door creaked open as Zayn entered the room, running a tired hand through his damp hair. He shut the door behind him with a sigh, muttering to himself about needing a shower—and maybe divine intervention—before he noticed something peculiar.
From the corner of his eye, near the bathroom area, a tuft of dark hair peeked around the wall. Then an eye. Then half a face.
Zayn froze.
River was peeping—dramatically, like a cartoon spy caught mid-snoop. His body was half-hidden, his expression oddly guilty and fearful at once.
Zayn blinked twice, looking behind him as if to confirm that there was no one else in the room.
“What the hell are you doing now?” he asked, shutting the door fully and narrowing his eyes. “Is this some kind of new drama performance, or are you possessed?”
River slowly emerged, inch by inch, until he stood awkwardly in front of him, wringing his hands. His voice was a small, hesitant murmur.
“Where is she?”
Zayn frowned.
“Where’s who?”
River shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking like a child about to confess to breaking a vase.
Zayn squinted suspiciously.
“Did you get bitten by too many mosquitoes out there or what? You look weird. Don’t tell me you’ve caught malaria.” He quickly closed the distance between them and pressed his hand against River’s forehead. “No fever. Great, so it’s not malaria—it’s madness.”
River lifted his head dramatically, hands clutching his ears like a guilty toddler.
“Zayn,” he said in a small voice, “your aunt.”
“My aunt?” Zayn repeated, confused.
River nodded rapidly, then whispered,
“I didn’t want you hearing it from anyone else, but I kinda…” His voice trailed off, his gaze darting toward the floor.
Zayn crossed his arms, eyebrow arched.
“You kinda what?”
River’s next words were barely audible.
“I kinda… slapped her.”
There was a long pause. Zayn blinked once. Then twice.
And then—he burst out laughing.
“You—” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. “You what?!” His laughter echoed around the room until he finally caught sight of River’s wide, puppy-like eyes, filled with panic and guilt. Zayn’s laughter died mid-breath.
“Wait. Wait—hold on. You slapped Aunt Vee?!” he screamed, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. “What the hell, River?!”
River flinched.
“Zayn, I—”
“No! No, don’t you Zayn me right now!” he cut in, pacing back and forth as he dragged a hand down his face. “I warned you! I explicitly told you to stop causing trouble with Veronica! Do you have a death wish?! Do you want her to ruin us before the wedding even starts?!”
River’s expression was so pitiful it was almost comical—his lower lip trembling, eyes shiny like he was about to cry, his hands fidgeting.
“I didn’t mean to!” he blurted, his voice rising an octave. “She just—she just got under my skin! I wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem—I wasn’t thinking!”
Zayn groaned, running both hands through his hair and pulling slightly.
“Oh my God. River, you’re gonna give me a stroke.”
“I realized it too late,” River added weakly, “but by then her face was already in my hand, and—”
“Stop talking!” Zayn barked, massaging his temples.
River instantly went quiet, watching as Zayn began pacing in circles, muttering things under his breath that sounded suspiciously like curses.
River slowly shuffled closer, his steps small and hesitant, until he was right behind Zayn. His voice was soft, childlike.
“It’s your fault.”
Zayn froze mid-step. He turned his head slowly, eyes wide.
“My fault?”
River nodded solemnly.
“What the hell did I do?” Zayn demanded, incredulous.
“It’s because of you,” River said with exaggerated seriousness, “and Harry. She came to taunt me about you two. And in my defense, I was just trying to act like a good boyfriend, you know? We’re supposed to make it look real.”
Zayn stared at him blankly for a few seconds before his patience snapped.
“You can act like a good boyfriend, tough with anyone except my aunt or my parents! What part of that is hard to understand?!”
River bit his lip, mumbling a meek,
“Sorry.”
Zayn groaned again, dragging his hand down his face.
“We’re going to sort this out later. But right now—”
River tilted his head.
“Right now?”
“Right now, you’re going to change into something presentable,” Zayn said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the closet.
River blinked, confused.
“Why?”
Zayn gave him a look that could flatten a mountain.
“Because we’re going to church. We have to offer some traditional blessings before the wedding. My father’s orders.”
River’s jaw dropped.
“The church?!” He groaned like a sulking child. “Is Aunt Vee gonna be there?”
“Yes,” Zayn said firmly. “Everyone will be there. So you’d better pray she hasn’t told my father yet.”
River sighed dramatically, slumping against the wall.
“Then I’m doomed,” he muttered.
Zayn pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself,
“Why did I think this was a good idea…?”
River trudged toward the wardrobe, dragging his feet as if heading to execution.
“Do I have to wear a tie?”
“No, River.”
“And can I fake a fever?”
“No, River.”
River groaned louder, disappearing into the closet with a dramatic,
“I hope the church has holy water strong enough to save me from Aunt Vee.”
Zayn just stood there, hands on his hips, watching the door close behind him. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling.
“Please,” he muttered under his breath, “let this wedding plan survive River.”
***
River handed the last steaming bowl to a small boy whose face lit up like sunrise. For a heartbeat the world narrowed to the halo of that smile and the happy, sticky chaos of little hands reaching for napkins and new shirts. The church hall — long wooden benches, sun through stained glass, the smell of incense still clinging to the rafters — had been transformed into something warm and ridiculous: a makeshift dining room full of laughter, grubby elbows, and the little triumphs of new shoes that fit.
A sigh of relief escaped River’s lips that was half tiredness and half pure, fizzy joy. He leaned against the table for a second, watching the children tuck in, hearing the soft, incredulous “Mmm!” that came from a kid discovering buttered croissant for the first time. Liana, in a soft, pale dress, was beside him, chuckling as she watched a girl hold up a donated cardigan and spin like it was the most dazzling costume.
“You look… glow-y,” Liana said, nudging him with an elbow. “Like you swallowed the sun.”
River smiled, fingers still warm from passing plates.
“It’s them,” he said simply. “Seeing how happy they get over small things — food, a shirt that doesn’t fall off — they just want to belong. If I had the money and space? I’d give them all a home.” His chest tightened with genuine longing; the thought felt both impossible and essential.
Liana’s expression softened.
“They’d get so lucky with you,” she murmured. “We’re still in each other’s lives, you know. I’ll be married to Damian and—” she grinned, conspiratorially “—sooner than you think, Zayn will be proposing to you.”
River blinked, chuckling nervously.
“You think so?”
“I know so,” she said, with all the certitude of a woman who’d already picked the cake flavor. “And you’ll be right in our corner, always.”
He glanced toward the church doors, hunting for Zayn’s familiar silhouette, and his smile faltered. A chill skittered down his spine when Liana followed his gaze and her face went small.
“Where are they?” River asked, though he already had a guess.
“In the church,” Liana said quietly. “Leonardo insisted — offerings first, tradition. Every male Monroe, the matriarch, they—” She smirked. “And Aunt Vee will be front and center, looking like she’s about to award medals.”
River’s laugh was half a groan.
“The matriarch, huh? Funny, thought that role went to someone with a more… sunny disposition.” He nodded toward Veronica before he realized he’d done it; Liana gave a sharp little warning tap with her knuckle.
Across the hall, Veronica’s gaze found them like a blade. She stood with Harry, the hangover still ghosting his eyes, while she surveyed the room with open disgust. The charity tables, the rowdy children, the flustered volunteers — all of it seemed to her like a theatrical production staged beneath her dignity.
“Oh, God,” she muttered, loud enough for the nearest pews to hear. “I feel like I’ve been dropped in some kind of zoo.”
Harry, slumped in his chair, rubbed his temple and made a face.
“I didn’t even want to be here,” he murmured.
“You shouldn’t forget your place,” Veronica hissed, directing a pointed look at Harry. “Your place is wherever Zayn is. Don’t you dare forget that. We still have work to do.” Her voice clicked into that businesslike tone she adopted when she reduced people to chess pieces.
Harry rolled his eyes theatrically.
“Relax. Zayn’s wrapped around my finger.” He watched, amused and a little smug, as River laughed with a child and pretended not to notice. “He still can’t resist me.”
Veronica’s lip curled into something almost like approval.
“Good,” she said with dangerous sweetness. “Then our plan is working. Soon—” she tapped the side of her mouth in a thinking gesture “—you’ll be together, making love like crazy birds.”
Harry barked a laugh — a wet, hangover-choked sound that grated.
“Crazy birds. That’s one for the memoirs.”
Then her face darkened and her voice dropped.
“And River…” she hissed, eyes narrowing back toward River and Liana, “he slapped me this morning. He will pay for that.”
Harry’s head snapped up.
“Really? He actually — ?” His laughter stuttered into a suppressed giggle and then anger. “He slapped you? That’s… that’s huge.” He sounded almost impressed, like he’d just been handed a showy object.
Veronica’s nostrils flared.
“This is not a thing to admire,” she snapped. “This is an outrage. He assaulted me.”
Harry blinked rapidly, trying to tamp down the snort that wanted to escape.
“You want me to—?”
“Don’t you dare laugh at me.” Her voice was ice and iron. “You think this is funny? I am not a woman to be made a fool of. He will be punished. Mark my words — he will pay.”
She turned as if to give the order, to marshal invisible troops of retribution: whispering to allies, calling favors, making lives uncomfortable. Veronica’s mouth tightened into that predatory smile she used when she was assembling social punishment like a couture wardrobe.
River, back with Liana, lifted a stray fork and handed it to a little girl who’d dropped hers and looked up when Veronica’s voice sliced through the hall. He felt the room tilt for a second — like the air had thickened — then he met the pinned, furious stare of Aunt Vee.
For a single second they held each other’s gazes: Veronica, splendidly livid and poised to launch a vendetta; River, defiant in the smallest of ways, chin jutting out, eyes steady. The shirt in his arms somehow gave him courage — the absurdity of clutching it like a talisman made him laugh on the inside. Liana watched his shoulders relax fractionally and pressed his hand covertly.
Veronica huffed in disgust and turned back to Harry.
“Make sure he doesn’t get too close to Zayn today. I want him watched.” Her voice was brisk and clinical.
Harry grinned in a way that made the corners of his eyes look dangerous.
“Consider it done.”
River heard the threat like a stone thrown into the water and felt the ripples in his chest. He swallowed, steadied himself, and then, because he had been taught to be loud with kindness and quiet with hurt, he bent down to tie a little boy’s shoelace.
“Okay,” he said to the boy with a bright false cheer. “Go show that cardigan off to everyone.”
The boy took off in a whirl of fabric and giggles. River let the smile hold for them — for the children, for Liana — and, for a moment, the poison at the edges of the hall couldn’t touch him.
Still, as Veronica watched and plotted, she spoke through her teeth — not to River, but to the air, to anyone who would listen.
“He insulted me at my worst. He must be taught a lesson.” Her fingers flexed. “And when I am done, he’ll rue the day he ever thought of my family as a playground.”
Harry looked at her, a question of incredulity bubbling in his hungover face.
“You’re serious?”
Veronica’s reply was a slow smile.
“Deadly.”
Down at River’s feet, a small boy ran back and hugged him, breathless. River crouched, hugged him back, and for all the threats in the room — for Veronica’s plotted rage, for her whispered promises to make him pay — the grace of that hug felt like its own tiny, furious shield.
Veronica’s lips thinned into a line as she watched them go — a storm gathering.
***
The church was bathed in a golden hush — sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows painted the air in blues and reds, the faint scent of burning incense lingering like a whisper of heaven itself. Damian knelt before the altar, shirtless, his head bowed low as the priest poured a liquid — a sacred oil — over his dark hair.
His lips moved faintly, murmuring along with the priest’s prayer, while Elena stood beside him, holding a polished silver dish to catch what dripped. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the overwhelming emotion that filled the moment.
A few pews behind, Leonardo and Zayn stood side by side, watching quietly. Zayn’s hands were clasped in front of him, knuckles pale from how hard he was squeezing them. Leonardo’s gaze, calm but heavy, remained fixed on Damian — his oldest son, now stepping into something sacred, into love, into a new beginning. The sound of the priest’s Latin chants echoed softly around them, weaving into the air like the hum of eternity.
Leonardo finally broke the silence, his voice low and filled with emotion.
“I’m glad you’re here to see this, son,” he said, still looking ahead. “Your brother… he deserves to have all of us around him today.”
Zayn smiled faintly, his voice trembling as he replied,
“I’m glad I’m here too, Dad. Seeing him this happy — seeing him finally with the one person who makes him feel alive — it’s a dream come true.”
Leonardo’s eyes flicked toward him, a small smile curving his lips.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he murmured. “I’m going to miss him so much.”
Zayn tilted his head slightly, curious.
“But Damian’s going to be around, isn’t he?”
Leonardo nodded slowly.
“Yes… but he’ll be starting his own life now. His own family. It won’t be the same anymore. I’m happy — more than I can say — but I’ll miss him. The noise, the laughter, even his arguments. The house will be quieter.”
Zayn’s smile softened.
“You shouldn’t worry too much,” he said. “Our family… we never really leave each other, do we? Even when we get married, we somehow stay together.”
Leonardo turned his head toward him then, his expression gentling but carrying something deeper beneath it.
“Not you, though,” he said quietly. “You’ve been away for so long.”
The words landed softly, but they struck deep. Zayn’s throat tightened, and he looked away, blinking back the sting in his eyes.
“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Being away from home… it wasn’t easy at all. I missed you. I missed everyone.”
Leonardo studied him for a moment, the weight of years pressing between them.
“Then why didn’t you come back, Zayn?”
Zayn swallowed, the air suddenly feeling thick. His heart began to pound, and before he could stop himself, the truth poured out — fragile and trembling.
“Because I didn’t know how to,” he said. “How could I come back after everything? After how you looked at me that day? I could see it in your eyes — disappointment. Disgust. You didn’t say it, but I knew. You were ashamed of me.”
Leonardo’s brow furrowed, his mouth opening slightly, but Zayn pressed on, his voice breaking.
“You hated what I’d become. You didn’t want to see me. And I… I couldn’t face that again. I didn’t want to be hurt anymore. I wanted to prove to you that being who I am doesn’t make me weak, or broken, or something to be pitied. I just… wanted you to be proud of me.”
The church fell silent except for the distant rustle of robes and the faint flicker of candles. Leonardo turned fully to his son now. His eyes — the same brown as Zayn’s — softened with realization, with regret.
“Zayn,” he began quietly, “I never hated you. I was… lost.” He exhaled shakily. “You have to understand, I was new to all this. I didn’t know how to react. You came to me with a truth that I hadn’t been prepared for, and instead of learning, instead of being a father first, I let my fear speak.” He paused, guilt filling every word. “I did feel disappointed — not in who you are, but in myself. Because I failed you. I failed as a father.”
Zayn blinked rapidly, the tears he’d been holding back now glimmering in his eyes.
“But you were right about some things,” he said softly. “I was reckless. I was angry. I didn’t know who I was or where I belonged, so I made mistakes — I drank too much, I slept around, I tried to drown everything in noise. I was trying to forget how small I felt when I realized I’d lost you.”
Leonardo shook his head, his eyes glistening.
“You didn’t lose me,” he said. “I was there — too far, but there. And I should’ve reached out sooner. I should’ve understood that you didn’t need to be changed. You just needed to be loved.”
Zayn let out a breath that trembled like a held-back sob.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered. “For everything. For the things I said, for running away, for not trying harder to fix things. Even when you told me that I wasn't gonna be part of your inheritance unless I changed, I should have stayed. I shouldn't have waited till this moment to come back or reach out.”
Leonardo’s hand moved, slowly, cautiously, before resting on his son’s shoulder.
“And I’m sorry too,” he said. “For making you feel unwanted. For not understanding. For not being the father you needed when you needed me most.”
Zayn’s lips parted, and a tear finally slipped free, rolling down his cheek. In the next moment, Leonardo pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Zayn pressed his face against his father’s shoulder, breathing in that familiar scent — home, comfort, forgiveness.
“I love you,” Leonardo murmured against his hair.
“I love you too, Dad,” Zayn whispered, voice breaking completely.
They stayed that way for a moment — father and son, the years of silence and distance crumbling into something whole again.
Then a soft voice broke through.
“Can I join in on that hug, or should I wait my turn?”
They both turned to see Damian standing a few feet away, his hair damp and glistening from the oil, a towel draped around his shoulders. His smile was bright, warm — the kind of smile that lit up every corner of a room.
Leonardo chuckled through the tightness in his throat.
“Come here, you rascal.”
Damian grinned and stepped forward, throwing his arms around both of them, pulling them close in a messy, heartfelt embrace.
Elena, standing a short distance away, watched them with tears in her eyes and a soft smile curving her lips. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, her heart swelling with pride. She had prayed for this moment — for her family to be whole again, for her husband and sons to find each other beyond the walls of pain and misunderstanding.
As the choir began to hum softly in the background and sunlight fell gently on the three men embracing near the altar, Elena closed her eyes for a moment, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude.
It was peace — pure, long-awaited peace — in its simplest, most beautiful form.
***
The sun was sinking low, a bleeding orange sphere melting into the calm horizon. River sat halfway up the grand stone stairway that led toward the gardens, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
He hadn’t expected the day to unfold as it did — the ceremony, the laughter, the emotions running high between families that had once been torn apart. But somehow, it all felt right. For the first time in a long while, he felt… at peace. The sunset painted his skin in gold and crimson, and he smiled faintly, a content sigh escaping his lips.
“Evening, troublemaker.”
The familiar voice made his head snap up. He turned to see Zayn standing there a few steps above, the soft light touching his face — his expression bright, eyes glistening with an emotion River hadn’t seen in a long time. Relief.
River smirked lightly.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Zayn chuckled and descended a few steps, sitting beside him.
“Fair point,” he said, his voice still carrying a laugh.
River glanced sideways at him, brow slightly raised.
“You look… suspiciously happy. What happened?”
Zayn leaned back on his palms, gazing at the ocean as he exhaled a long, almost disbelieving sigh.
“I just had a long talk with my dad,” he said. “An emotional one. And I can’t even begin to tell you how relieving that was. More than I ever thought it would be.”
River arched an eyebrow teasingly.
“More than getting your inheritance?”
Zayn laughed — a deep, genuine laugh that made River’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Weirdly, yeah,” he said. “I always thought getting my inheritance would be the best thing ever. But hugging my father again… hearing him say he was sorry — it was something else entirely. If he didn’t leave me a single dime, I think I’d still be happy.” His voice softened, trembling slightly. “He wants me to come home. Can you believe that?”
River smiled faintly, eyes distant.
“That’s… great,” he murmured, and it truly was — for Zayn, at least.
Zayn turned his head to him.
“Hey, don’t worry, though. I’m still gonna pay you the agreed amount.”
River gave him a light shove with his elbow, chuckling.
“You’d better,” he said, the humor softening the heaviness in his chest.
They sat there for a while, both watching as the last light of day began to fade into dusk. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable — it was the kind of silence that felt full, like it carried the weight of everything unsaid. Then Zayn spoke again, his tone quieter, almost thoughtful.
“Talking to my father,” he said slowly, “feeling like we finally cleared the air… it made me think about what you told me this morning. About resolving my feelings.”
River turned slightly, his gaze shifting toward him.
“And what about it?” he asked gently.
Zayn hesitated for a moment, his eyes reflecting the sunset.
“Harry,” he said softly. “He’s… the one person I truly fell in love with. The one I wanted to be with. To build a future with. A family.” He gave a small, shaky laugh. “After all these years, no one has ever made me feel like he did.”
Something inside River twisted — sharp and deep, like a knife pressed gently into a wound that hadn’t quite healed. His heart seemed to falter for a second, but he forced a smile, genuine but pained.
“That’s… that’s beautiful,” he said softly, nodding once. “So… what are you saying?”
Zayn’s gaze fell to his hands, his fingers fidgeting nervously.
“I don’t even know,” he admitted. “Harry told me earlier that he was sorry. That he wanted to make things right. But… you and I have this whole arrangement, pretending to be together, showing everyone that I’m finally happy. It’s… complicated.”
River blinked, his throat tightening. His eyes grew glassy, though he kept his voice steady.
“Zayn,” he said quietly, “our arrangement is ending in just a few days. You need to follow your heart — not a deal.”
Zayn looked at him, surprised.
“River…”
River smiled softly, though his lips trembled.
“You said your father was raw with you today, right? Honest. Vulnerable. Then you should be the same with yourself. Be raw about what you feel.” He swallowed, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “You deserve that kind of happiness, Zayn. You deserve to fight for it, even if it scares you.”
Zayn stared at him, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
“Really?”
River nodded, forcing a grin through the ache.
“Yeah. A few days after the arrangement ends, I’ll ‘break up’ with you. I’ll tell everyone I’ve been thinking about it for a while, that I have something important to focus on. No one will question it. Everyone will understand.”
Zayn exhaled, nodding slowly as if the weight of his confusion was finally lifting.
“Do you really think I should go after him?”
River raised his thumb, grinning weakly.
“Totally.”
A wide smile spread across Zayn’s face, brighter than the fading sunlight.
“You’re right,” he said, voice full of sudden hope. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you, River.”
He extended his hand, and River took it firmly, their palms pressing together. River chuckled lightly, trying to mask the lump in his throat.
“Go on then,” River said playfully. “Don’t waste time.”
Zayn stood, brushing off his pants, still grinning like a man reborn.
“Wish me luck?”
River lifted a hand lazily.
“Good luck, Zayn.”
Zayn turned and headed down the stairway, his pace quick but full of purpose. River watched silently as his figure moved toward the place, where a small crowd of guests were still milling about. His eyes caught the sight of Harry — talking to a small child, crouched down as he ruffled the boy’s hair, a soft smile on his lips.
Zayn approached, calling his name. River couldn’t hear what was said, but he didn’t need to. The look on Harry’s face said it all — surprise melting into joy, hesitation giving way to warmth. And when Zayn stepped closer, Harry’s arms went around him tightly, the two of them holding onto each other like they’d been waiting years for that moment.
River smiled faintly, his chest hollow but calm. Then, suddenly, a tear slipped down his cheek, betraying him. He wiped it away quickly, laughing under his breath at himself.
“Get it together, River,” he muttered.
But as the laughter faded, the silence grew heavier. He stood, his heart pounding, and with one last look at the two men still embracing in the golden light of dusk, he turned and walked the other way.
His footsteps echoed faintly against the stone, and somewhere behind him, laughter — Zayn’s laughter — carried on the wind.
River didn’t look back.
To be continued...
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