The morning sun streamed softly through the gauzy curtains, painting the room in golden light. River sat on the edge of the bed, his knees slightly apart, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke in that boyish, teasing voice that always melted his father’s heart.
“Pa,” he said dramatically, stretching the word like a child who hadn’t grown up. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m perfectly fine. You’re the one I’m supposed to be worrying about.”
A gentle chuckle came through the receiver — that low, warm tone of a man who had weathered too much of life’s storms.
“River,” his father sighed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry, son. I made you work too hard. You should be studying, not juggling side jobs and… all this. I should be the one providing for you, not the other way around.”
River’s lips curved into a trembling smile as tears burned behind his eyes. He shook his head even though his father couldn’t see him.
“Pa, my entire life, you’ve done everything — everything — to make sure I was comfortable, that I had food, school, clothes, even when you didn’t have much. You were my hero, and you still are. Now it’s my turn to take care of you, okay? You’re not allowed to feel bad about that.”
His father went silent for a moment. River could hear a sniffle on the other end, a faint catch of breath before he spoke again.
“I just don’t want you to be stressed, River. Not with school, not with work. The world is full of people who’ll take advantage of a boy with a kind heart. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
River laughed softly, rubbing at a tear that slipped down his cheek.
“You know me, Pa. No one can take advantage of me. I’m too stubborn.”
A breath of laughter came from his father, but it faltered quickly into something heavier, something that made River’s chest tighten.
“Even if I was to die, son…”
River immediately sat upright, his tone shifting.
“Pa— don’t. Don’t talk like that.”
“I’m just saying,” his father continued, voice cracking, “even if I was to die… I’d want you to be happy. Find a good job, a good man who loves you, and always— always— keep that smile on your face.”
River swallowed hard, biting his lower lip as his tears finally betrayed him, rolling down his cheeks.
“Don’t say that, Pa. You’re gonna live a long time, you hear me? You’re not going anywhere.”
His father chuckled weakly.
“We’ll see, son. Just promise me you’ll live your life the way you want to. Don’t hold back for anyone.”
“I promise,” River whispered. “I love you, Pa.”
“I love you more, son.”
When the call ended, the silence in the room was deafening. River sat there for a long moment, staring blankly at the phone in his hand, then placed it on the nightstand. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing, but the weight in his chest was too heavy. He buried his face in his palms, shaking silently, before forcing himself to breathe, to hold it all in.
And then— the door creaked open.
He quickly wiped his tears with the back of his hand and sat upright, pretending to scroll through his phone. When he looked up, Zayn was standing there, a soft smile on his face.
“You’re awake?” Zayn asked, closing the door behind him.
River nodded quickly, pasting on a smile.
“Yeah. You?”
Zayn walked closer, studying his face.
“You okay? You look… tired.”
“I’m fine,” River replied, forcing a grin. “Just had a long night, that’s all.”
Zayn nodded slowly, then sat down on the bed beside him.
“The morning’s going fine,” he said casually.
River tilted his head with that curious expression that always came so easily to him.
“Oh? How was your talk with Harry?”
Zayn chuckled lightly, then leaned back and — to River’s complete surprise — laid his head right on River’s lap. The warmth of him, the soft brush of his hair against River’s hands, made River’s heart squeeze painfully.
As if on instinct, River’s fingers began to run gently through his hair.
“So?” he asked softly, smiling down at him. “How’d it go?”
Zayn sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“It went… surprisingly well. We talked about a lot — what happened, why it ended. Harry said at the time, he was going through too much and, with my problems, he couldn’t handle it.”
River gave a soft chuckle.
“Love’s about coming together and fixing the problems, not running from them. Especially when he knew how much you loved him. But—” he paused, brushing Zayn’s hair off his forehead “—love is also about forgiveness.”
Zayn turned his head a little, looking up at him.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe.”
“So what do you think?” River asked gently.
Zayn sighed, a conflicted look crossing his face.
“I don’t know. Something tells me that’s not the whole truth. Everything went bad when I got disowned, and I think… Harry saw me as a nobody after that.”
River nodded slowly, his heart aching for the man lying on his lap.
“At least you’re confronting your feelings now. That’s brave, Zayn.”
Zayn tilted his head up to meet River’s eyes.
“You know,” he said softly, “I didn’t even tell him about us. Not yet. I’m just being nice to him. When the time’s right, I’ll decide what to do. And I don’t want him knowing this thing between us is fake.”
River forced a smile even as his chest tightened.
“Of course. That’s smart. You’ll figure it out.”
Zayn grinned suddenly, reaching up and pinching River’s cheek playfully.
“Hey, we still have time to be the perfect couple— at least until the deal’s done.”
River chuckled weakly, covering his heartache with humor.
“Sure, boss. I’ll do my best.”
Zayn’s eyes fluttered closed, a satisfied sigh escaping him as River continued to run his fingers through his hair. For a few moments, everything was still — just their breathing, the morning light, and the quiet ache of unspoken words.
Then Zayn said,
“Oh, by the way— Damian and Liana are having a small send-off party tonight. Just friends and coworkers. You’re coming, right?”
River smiled faintly.
“That’s great… but I’m gonna skip it.”
Zayn opened one eye.
“Why?”
“Well,” River said, grinning a little, “your parents aren’t going to be there, right?”
Zayn shook his head.
“Then I don’t need to play the perfect boyfriend,” River said, shrugging.
Zayn laughed.
“Damian and Liana will be there. You should come.”
River leaned back.
“Nah. You go. Take Harry instead. Call it a little test drive for your reunion.”
Zayn groaned but finally relented.
“Fine. But if this goes wrong, it’s on you.”
River laughed softly.
“I’ll take the blame, partner.”
Zayn smirked and closed his eyes again, comfortable against his lap. River’s smile lingered only for a moment before it faded— the laughter gone from his eyes as his fingers continued to move through Zayn’s hair, slowly, tenderly.
Because deep down, he knew — in a few days, all of it would be gone.
And he’d have to let go of the thing he wanted to keep.
***
River stood quietly by the balustrade, the last rays of the setting sun spilling across the courtyard in honeyed gold. The air was soft and warm, the breeze gentle against his face as it ruffled his hair. He watched the sky like it was breathing—orange bleeding into pink, pink melting into lilac. It looked like a painting he could step into and disappear. For a moment, he let himself drift—let the quiet swallow him whole. It felt good to just feel the sun and not think about anything.
He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply, when a voice suddenly cut through the calm like nails scratching glass.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
River turned slowly, his jaw already tightening before he even saw her. Veronica stood a few feet away, arms folded across her chest, an exaggerated smirk painted on her glossy lips.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head mockingly. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the party? Or did Zayn finally realize he was dating trash and go back to the gold mine that is Harry?”
Her laughter rang through the air—sharp, grating, and unbearably smug.
River didn’t say a word. He just stared at her, his expression calm but cold. The sunset behind him made his features glow faintly, but the look in his eyes could’ve frozen stone.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said, waving her hand with feigned innocence. “I literally just saw Harry and Zayn. They looked adorable, by the way—hand in hand, whispering like teenagers in love.” She placed a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “And here you are, standing all alone like a lost puppy. Does that mean there’s trouble in paradise?”
He exhaled through his nose and said flatly,
“You know, I actually felt bad for slapping you yesterday. Thought I went too far.”
Veronica’s smirk widened.
“You did—”
“But now that I think about it,” River cut her off, “I don’t feel bad at all. In fact, I’d do it again. Over and over.”
Her smile faltered.
River took a slow step closer, his tone calm but sharp enough to cut through her fake confidence.
“Is it that you don’t have a life, Veronica? Or are you just so miserable that you want to drag everyone else down with you?”
She chuckled, though her laugh sounded forced now.
“Please. You caught me off guard yesterday, that’s all. Don’t get too proud, sweetheart—it’s not going to happen again.” She moved closer, her perfume thick in the air. “But you know what? You look pitiful. If you want some advice, just pack your bags, leave quietly before you embarrass yourself further, and go find a man who’s actually in your league. Consider it… sisterly advice.”
River’s lips curled in a smile that wasn’t a smile.
“Sisterly advice?” he repeated softly. “Alright then. I’ve got some brotherly advice for you too.”
He leaned slightly toward her, his tone suddenly playful.
“You need to get out of everyone’s business and get laid. Honestly, lack of sex can make someone this frustrated. You’ve probably got cobwebs down there.”
Her jaw dropped, the color draining from her face.
He raised an eyebrow and continued, voice dripping with mock curiosity.
“Actually, now that I think about it, no man would willingly put up with all that.”
“How dare you be so disrespectful—” she started, her voice shaking.
“Wait,” River said, holding up his hand with a half-smile. “That’s what I would’ve said if it were brotherly advice. But no…” He tilted his head, pretending to ponder. “You’re a bit too old to be my sister.”
Veronica’s mouth fell open in disbelief.
“I’d say it’s more like… motherly advice,” he said with a mocking sweetness. “Or maybe even grandmotherly, depending on the lighting.”
Her hand twitched like she wanted to slap him, but he didn’t flinch.
He smirked faintly and added,
“You’re way too old to be acting like a kindergarten bully, Veronica. Don’t you have something better to do? Knitting, maybe? Reading about menopause?”
Her eyes widened, and her voice cracked into a furious scream.
“You—how dare you talk to me like that, you—”
But River had already turned around.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, and began walking away while she stomped her foot against the ground like an angry child.
“River!” she shrieked after him, her voice echoing across the quiet courtyard. “You’ll regret this! You’ll—”
“Yeah, sure,” he said without turning around, his tone lazy. “Just make sure your dentures don’t fall out while you’re yelling.”
He didn’t even wait to hear the rest. Veronica’s furious curses faded behind him as he walked toward the road, the golden light catching on his hair, the wind brushing across his face.
His heart was pounding, but his smile stayed. For once, he didn’t feel like running away. He’d had enough of letting people like her walk all over him.
River was still grinning faintly from his little victory over Veronica when he heard the sound of heels clicking briskly against the pavement. He turned—and there she was.
Liana.
Even with that small frown creasing her beautiful face, she looked like something out of a dream. Her hair was styled in perfect soft curls that cascaded over her shoulders, glinting warm amber under the fading light. Her makeup was flawlessly done—soft bronze eyeshadow that made her eyes glow, winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut, and a deep rose tint on her lips that made her look both elegant and dangerous.
Her dress was a shimmering satin piece that hugged her curves in all the right places—a soft champagne color with a slit that showed just enough of her toned leg to make anyone stop and stare. And those heels—thin, gold-strapped stilettos—clicked like a metronome of confidence with every step she took.
“Wow,” River said softly, his lips curving into a genuine smile. “You look absolutely gorgeous, Liana.”
Liana, despite her irritation, couldn’t help but smile for a brief second.
“Thank you,” she said, but the warmth in her voice quickly turned into a sharp tone. “Now tell me—why are you not dressed? And why the hell did I just see Zayn leaving with Harry?”
River kept that smile, though it wavered slightly.
“Because I’m not going to the party,” he said calmly. “I told Zayn that Harry could accompany him.”
Liana’s eyes widened, her perfectly manicured eyebrows shooting up.
“You what?” she demanded. “You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding. There’s no way I’m letting that crazy man show up at my party with Zayn!”
River chuckled softly, his voice light even as he tried to keep his heart from sinking.
“It’s fine, Liana. I trust Zayn, and that’s all that matters.”
Liana crossed her arms, exhaling sharply.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath as she pulled out her phone.
River frowned a little.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing this nonsense,” she said curtly, dialing Damian’s number. “Hey babe,” she said when he picked up, her tone switching immediately to something sweeter. “Yeah, go ahead without me. I’ll follow behind very soon.”
River’s eyes narrowed.
“Liana…”
“Yeah, yeah, just go,” she said into the phone before cutting the call and sliding it into her clutch.
“What are you doing?” River asked again, suspicion creeping into his tone.
Liana turned to him, that familiar gleam of mischief flashing in her eyes.
“I’m making sure you come to the party, that’s what I’m doing.”
River opened his mouth to protest, but she was already stepping closer, grabbing him firmly by the wrist.
“Liana, wait—”
“Nope,” she said, tightening her grip and starting to pull him along. “It’s my party, River. My rules. You’re coming with me.”
He tried to plant his feet, but she was stronger than she looked—and determined.
“I’m serious, Liana, I can’t—”
“Oh, you can and you will,” she shot back, dragging him toward the house. “Don’t make me call Damian to carry you there himself. You know he will.”
River sighed dramatically but couldn’t help laughing under his breath as he stumbled after her.
“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not even if you begged,” she said without looking back, her curls bouncing as she marched forward. “Now come on, drama boy. You’re not missing my night.”
River smiled faintly as he let her pull him along, the sound of her heels echoing beside the soft rhythm of his reluctant footsteps. For all her stubbornness, Liana’s energy was infectious—and for the first time that evening, he felt the heaviness in his chest start to lift.
He glanced at her from the side and murmured, almost fondly,
“You’re impossible.”
She grinned, eyes straight ahead.
“And you love me for it.”
***
The party was in full swing—music loud enough to vibrate through the walls, laughter spilling out from every corner, glasses clinking, and flashes of camera lights catching the golden décor that shimmered under the chandeliers.
The venue—a a fancy hotel hall owned by Leonardo—had been transformed into something spectacular. Fairy lights hung from the palm trees outside, candles floated in the pool, and elegant floral arrangements decorated the tables inside. It wasn’t just a party—it was a celebration of love, friendship, and new beginnings.
Damian and Liana were the center of it all. Damian, standing near the bar with a drink in hand, looked impossibly handsome in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that hugged his frame. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, giving him that effortless charm that made people gravitate toward him. His hair was slicked back, his sharp jawline catching the light every time he smiled. He was constantly being pulled into hugs, laughter, and endless teasing.
“Enjoy your last few days of freedom, Damian!” one man called, patting his back.
“Yeah,” another chimed in, laughing. “Say goodbye to the bachelor life, my friend! No more late-night poker games or spontaneous trips to the bar!”
Damian rolled his eyes good-naturedly, grinning as he raised his glass.
“I think I’ll survive,” he said smoothly, earning another round of laughter.
Across the room, Zayn entered with Harry—and they were impossible to miss.
Zayn was dressed in a deep navy suit that fit him perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie that shimmered faintly under the lights. His hair was styled just right—messy yet refined—and his smile, though polite, carried that quiet magnetism that always drew attention.
Harry, on the other hand, was striking in a dark emerald suit that contrasted beautifully with his skin tone, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a glimpse of his chest. His curls framed his face perfectly, and the confident glint in his eyes made it clear he loved the attention he was getting. He stood close—too close—to Zayn, his arm occasionally brushing against his, his body language screaming possessiveness.
As they mingled with the crowd, an old friend spotted them and nearly dropped his glass.
“My goodness,” he gasped, hand on his chest. “After all these years—Harry and Zayn—still together and looking even more beautiful than before!”
The small group of people around them murmured in surprise and delight, their attention immediately shifting toward the pair.
“Wait,” another woman said, eyes wide with curiosity. “So… have you two been together all these years, or did something happen between you?”
Zayn opened his mouth, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, actually—”
But Harry jumped in smoothly, smiling like he’d practiced the moment.
“We’ve always been together,” he said, voice silky, confident. “We just preferred keeping it low key this time. Fame can make things… complicated, you know?”
“Oh, that’s so romantic!” someone gushed.
“Yes,” another chimed in, “I always knew you two were meant to be.”
Harry took every opportunity to reinforce the illusion—talking about shared memories, their “quiet vacations,” how they’d “stuck through thick and thin.” Every word he spoke wrapped around the room like honey, smooth and deliberate.
Zayn, meanwhile, could only smile faintly through it all—his jaw occasionally tightening whenever Harry’s hand lingered too long on his arm. But he didn’t correct him. He didn’t dare cause a scene.
After what felt like hours of polite small talk and curious stares, Zayn finally managed to excuse himself.
“We’ll just grab some air,” he said, his voice even.
Harry followed, still clutching his hand as they slipped out to a quieter terrace overlooking the sea. The cool night air wrapped around them, the hum of the party fading behind the closed doors.
Harry turned to him, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Wasn’t that fun?” he said, laughing softly. “It reminded me of those nights we used to go to parties, remember? We’d sneak away halfway through, kiss until our lips hurt… make love until sunrise.”
Zayn blinked, his throat tightening. Harry reached for his hand, gripping it tighter.
“I miss those moments,” he murmured. “I miss you, Zayn. I know you’re with River, but you know deep down that I’m the one who truly loves you. I always have. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me.” His voice softened, low and coaxing. “I just need to know that you’ll come back to me. That all of this—this little show—isn’t for nothing. You’ve been giving me hints, haven’t you? That you still feel the same?”
Zayn’s lips parted slightly. His hand trembled in Harry’s grasp, his mouth opening to say something—but before he could utter a word, a tap on his shoulder made him flinch.
He turned—and there stood Damian.
“Hey,” Damian said, his expression lined with worry. “Sorry to interrupt, but… can I talk to you for a second?”
Zayn blinked, taken aback.
“Uh, sure.” He glanced apologetically at Harry. “Just give me a minute.”
Harry’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.
“Of course,” he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t pleased.
As Zayn followed Damian through the crowd, Harry watched them go, his hand balling into a fist at his side.
When they reached a quieter corner, Zayn frowned.
“What’s going on?”
Damian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
“Have you heard from Liana?”
Zayn’s brow furrowed.
“No. Why?”
“She told me she was staying back with River and would come later,” Damian said quickly. “That was over two hours ago. She’s not answering her phone. Not once.”
Zayn frowned deeper.
“What? That’s strange… she’s never late without telling anyone.”
“Exactly,” Damian muttered, his voice edged with unease. “I’ve been calling her non-stop. Nothing. Not even a text.”
Zayn tried to keep calm, forcing a reassuring tone.
“I’m sure she’s fine, Damian. Maybe she’s just getting ready, or maybe she forgot her phone somewhere.”
But Damian didn’t look convinced. His jaw was tight, his eyes flicking anxiously toward the exit.
“Alright,” Zayn finally said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll try calling River, okay? Maybe he knows what’s going on.”
As Damian nodded and turned away to keep calling Liana, Zayn’s thumb hovered over River’s number—his heartbeat quickening as a strange, uneasy feeling began creeping up his chest.
Something didn’t feel right.
Not about Liana.
Not about River.
And not about the way Harry had looked at him when he walked away.
Something was coming—he could feel it.
***
Harry stood by the corner of the pool sidebar, phone angled just right under the golden party lights. Music pulsed through the air — deep bass, loud laughter, glasses clinking. He adjusted his hair, tilted his chin, and grinned into the camera. Click. Another one. Click. Then another. He laughed softly to himself, scrolling through them, swiping left and right to see which one looked more perfect.
Then, mid-swipe, his smile froze.
For a split second, he thought it was a glitch. The reflection behind him — that wasn’t right. His heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he looked at the screen again, and the air left his lungs.
Standing right there, behind him in the frame, was River.
The boy’s reflection was unmistakable — luminous, almost unreal in the way he stood with that half-smile curving his lips, his head slightly tilted like he was amused by Harry’s reaction. River’s hair was tied back tonight, neat but still with a few loose strands falling across his forehead, the light catching faint red streaks that made him look dangerously beautiful. His lips were soft and pink, his eyes deep and glinting under the glow, his expression playfully knowing.
And then — River spoke.
“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost, Harry?” he teased, his voice soft and mocking all at once. “You were about to take a selfie, right? Don’t be shy. Take it with me.”
Before Harry could move, River stepped closer — close enough that Harry could smell the faint trace of cologne and sweet alcohol on his skin. River’s fingers brushed over Harry’s hand, pressing lightly against the phone’s screen. The camera flashed. Click.
The image appeared instantly — the two of them together. Harry, startled, eyes wide; River, smirking, his beauty almost glowing through the frame.
Harry turned immediately, his pulse pounding.
“What the hell—”
And then he froze again.
River stood there in full view now, no longer the reflection of a ghost but a living, breathing storm wrapped in casual seduction. His glasses were gone, his hair tied neatly with streaks of red glinting under the neon lights, framing his sharp features and those soft lips that curled into a knowing smile. He wore a white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the top few buttons undone just enough to show his collarbones. His jeans fit perfectly, hugging him just right, and there was something magnetic about how effortlessly confident he looked.
Damn. Harry swallowed hard. Intimidation hit him like a punch.
“River,” he breathed, half in disbelief, half in irritation. “What are you doing here? Zayn said—he said you weren’t coming.”
River tilted his head with an amused smirk.
“And you believed him?” he asked softly, his tone dripping with mockery. “Well, actually, I wasn’t going to… but come on, it’s Liana’s party. You think I’d miss that?”
He gave a light shrug, playful and dangerous all at once. Then he leaned closer, tapped Harry’s cheek twice with his fingers.
“Relax,” he whispered with a hint of laughter. “I’m not here to interrupt your little… temporary date with Zayn. I’ll be having too much fun to notice. Besides…” His smile turned into something sinful. “…I’ll have Zayn all to myself later tonight — moaning and kissing me like a dangerous man.”
Harry’s chest tightened, and he clenched his fists. His face burned red, jaw twitching. He was a breath away from snapping when—
“Harry!”
Zayn’s voice came from behind, deep and familiar, and Harry turned sharply. Zayn was weaving through the crowd, expression apologetic.
“I’m so sorry for leaving you alone like that,” he began quickly. “There was an emergency. Liana...”
“Hello, lover.”
The voice cut through the noise like a blade, light but sharp.
Zayn froze mid-sentence. His eyes flicked toward the sound, and when they landed on River, it was like the air had been knocked out of him. His heart hammered against his chest, his mouth parting slightly as he took him in. River, standing there under the soft glow of colored lights — stunning, untouchable, and painfully beautiful.
“R–River,” he gasped, disbelief thick in his tone.
River grinned, spreading his arms wide.
“Surprise!”
Before Zayn could react, River walked straight to him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. Zayn stiffened as River kissed both his cheeks, then, boldly, brushed his lips against Zayn’s. The music seemed to fade. Every pair of eyes nearby turned toward them. Gasps, whispers, flashes from phones.
Harry’s fists shook at his sides, his jaw trembling with rage.
Zayn pulled back, breath caught.
“What—what are you doing here? You said you weren’t coming!”
River pouted dramatically.
“Liana wouldn’t have that,” he said, twirling slightly as if showing off. “We were late because she dragged me for hair, makeup, and an outfit. You like?”
Zayn swallowed hard, his voice barely steady.
“You… you look good.”
River’s smile deepened.
“Thanks.”
He stepped closer again, this time curling a finger under Zayn’s collar and pulling him in just enough to make Zayn’s heart pound. His lips brushed near Zayn’s ear.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered teasingly. “I won’t disturb you. I just came to have fun… maybe find a potential boyfriend.”
Zayn blinked, stunned. Before he could respond, River pressed a soft kiss on his cheek and turned, sauntering away into the crowd — leaving behind a trail of perfume, stunned silence, and chaos in his wake.
People around them began murmuring. Someone near Harry let out a low whistle.
“Who was that? Damn.”
“Isn’t that the guy Zayn’s been seeing?”
“Wait, boyfriend?”
Zayn, still dazed, barely realized the words left his mouth.
“Yeah… he’s my boyfriend,” he muttered automatically, eyes locked on River’s retreating figure.
Silence. Then—gasps.
Harry’s eyes widened, his knuckles white. Rage twisted in his chest.
River turned his head just enough to glance back over his shoulder, meeting Zayn’s gaze from across the room — that wicked smile still on his lips, eyes full of challenge.
Zayn stood frozen, breath heavy, mind spiraling. He didn’t even notice the cameras flashing again, capturing that moment — the shock, the jealousy, the heartbreak — all written across every face in the room.
*
River strolled through the room, heart still racing from the earlier scene but his face glowing with confidence — or at least the illusion of it. Music pulsed through the walls, lights flashing over polished faces and glittering glasses. People were still whispering, stealing glances his way, some out of shock, others out of admiration.
He smiled — small, shy but charming — and waved back at a few people who waved at him. A couple of guys raised their drinks toward him; one girl in a red dress winked as he passed. He gave a tiny wave in return, cheeks slightly warming. The air around him was thick with perfume, sweat, and bass — everything vibrating, loud and alive.
Then, out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his arm.
Before he could react, he was pulled sharply to the side, into a darker corner behind one of the velvet curtains. The movement made his heart jolt — and when he looked up, his breath caught.
Harry.
The phone he’d been holding earlier was now shoved into his pocket. His jaw was tight, his eyes burning. The golden light from the dance floor flickered across his face, highlighting the anger carved into it.
“What the fuck was that, River?” he snapped, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the music. “What the hell was that stunt you just pulled back there?”
River blinked, tilting his head slightly, as if amused.
“You’re gonna have to be a little specific, Harry. I did a lot of things back there.”
Harry’s nostrils flared.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You kissed him — right there, in front of everyone! You did that on purpose. You said you weren’t coming, and then you show up and humiliate me?” His voice cracked with frustration, his breath uneven.
River crossed his arms, a lazy smile spreading over his lips.
“Oh, so that’s what this is about.”
“Stop acting silly,” Harry hissed. “It doesn’t suit you.”
River’s eyes sparkled, taunting.
“Really? You think I’m acting?”
Harry leaned in, his voice dropping darker.
“For your information, I’m a very possessive person. And very jealous.”
For a second, River said nothing. Then he let out a low laugh — soft at first, then louder, until it spilled out like music over the noise of the crowd.
“Oh, Harry,” he said finally, shaking his head, that smile still mocking but with a trace of something else underneath — sadness, maybe. “And what exactly are you possessive about? Something that isn’t yours?”
Harry’s lips parted, but no words came.
River stepped closer, voice low and cutting.
“The past is the past, no matter how much you try to drag it into the present. You don’t own it — and you sure as hell don’t own Zayn. He's my boyfriend.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. His chest rose and fell fast, his pulse visible at his throat.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Mm,” River said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “And you’re predictable.”
Harry’s eyes flashed.
“You think this is funny?”
River’s smirk deepened.
“A little. You always make it easy to get under your skin.” He paused, leaning in close enough for Harry to feel his breath. “Maybe that’s why Zayn keeps choosing me over everyone else. I’m not afraid to play the game.”
Before Harry could respond, the lights suddenly dimmed. The crowd gasped and cheered as colored spotlights began to flash.
Then — that unmistakable beat hit.
“Super freaky girl…”
The room exploded. People screamed, laughed, hollered. The party came alive.
Harry turned instinctively toward the dance floor as the bass pounded through the air. River smirked, brushing past him. “Showtime,” he whispered, before vanishing into the strobe lights.
Liana was already at the center, the queen of her own chaos. The crowd parted around her like waves. Her dress shimmered — metallic silver that clung to her curves and caught every flash of light. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, grinning wickedly as the lyrics blared.
“I can lick it, I can ride it, while you slip in and side in…”
The crowd howled.
Damian, drink in hand, laughed near the edge of the dance floor until Liana grabbed his wrist and yanked him in.
“You’re not escaping this one,” she teased, her voice carried by the beat.
He tried to protest, but she spun around him, pressing her back against his chest, moving with the rhythm. Damian froze, his eyes wide — then his hands instinctively hovered near her waist as she started moving, hips swaying perfectly in time with the music.
Everyone cheered louder. Phones came out.
Liana turned her head slightly, her lips curving into a slow smile as she caught Damian’s stunned expression.
“You look like you’ve forgotten how to breathe,” she teased, then dropped lower, her body sliding against him before rising again in a graceful wave.
The crowd went wild.
River laughed from where he stood, joining a group near the front, clapping along and shouting with the others. The lights danced over his face, highlighting his soft grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement and defiance. He turned his head slightly, and for just a moment, his gaze met Zayn’s from across the room.
Zayn’s heart twisted.
Harry was watching too — but his stare wasn’t admiration. It was pure fire.
And in that wild, feverish mix of light, noise, and tension, the air between all of them crackled — jealousy, desire, anger, and something far more dangerous
***
The crowd had settled into that deep, vibrant rhythm that comes only when the night had properly bloomed. Music pulsed and shimmered through the hall, laughter filled every corner, and golden lights bounced off glass and sequins like living sparks.
River stood a little away from the main crowd, cup of apple juice in hand, the sweetness cooling his tongue as his mind wandered. The last few hours had been a blur — Zayn’s shocked face, the kiss, Harry’s anger, and Liana’s electric dance floor takeover. Now, for the first time, he let himself breathe, watching people move like liquid color beneath the chandeliers.
A voice cut through the noise behind him — deep, smooth, carrying that sort of confidence that made people listen.
“Never seen you here before,” the voice said. “You a friend of the bride or the groom?”
River turned, blinking, and found himself face to face with a man who looked straight out of a dream.
He was tall — broad shoulders beneath a perfectly tailored navy suit that fit him like a second skin. His tie was loosened, his dark hair styled in an effortless sweep, a single curl brushing his forehead. His skin was warm bronze under the golden lights, his smile white and easy, his eyes a shade of dark honey that caught everything.
River’s lips parted before he smiled back, soft and almost shy.
“A friend of both,” he said, voice light with a small chuckle.
The man’s grin widened.
“Lucky them. I’m Malvin.”
“River,” he replied, shaking the offered hand.
His fingers brushed Malvin’s palm and for a second, something like warmth rushed through him — maybe the wine in the air, or maybe just the man’s charm.
“Well, River,” Malvin said, taking a small step closer, lowering his voice, “you’ve got a lot of eyes on you tonight. I’m the only one who had the guts to actually come over and say hi.” He tilted his head, teasing. “Figured I could keep you company. Maybe get to know you a little better.”
River smirked faintly, raising his cup.
“I’m a friendly person — if the other party’s nice.”
Malvin laughed, a deep, warm sound that curled through the music.
“Then I guess I’m in luck. You seem amazing, River. And if I’m lucky, maybe we could be… more.”
River laughed — genuinely, brightly.
“You’re moving a little too fast, don’t you think? Steps are necessary. I barely know you.”
“Then let’s start with a drink,” Malvin said smoothly. “What do you like? Wine? Something stronger?”
River hesitated.
“I wasn’t planning to drink tonight.”
Malvin smiled, charmingly insistent.
“elax. One drink won’t hurt. You wait here — I’ll get it.”
He winked and slipped away into the crowd before River could protest.
River stood there, watching him disappear, a faint blush still coloring his cheeks. The guy was handsome. Polite. Charming. He felt good — flattered even. Maybe, he thought, he could use this distraction. Maybe he could stop thinking about Zayn for one night.
He sipped his juice, smiling faintly to himself, trying to believe that.
Across the hall, Zayn sat with Harry at one of the corner tables. The world was glittering around them — laughter, music, the hum of glasses clinking — but he couldn’t hear any of it properly.
Because his eyes were fixed on one person.
River.
He stood out even in the crowd. That quiet glow about him — the confidence that hadn’t been there before, the charm. And now there was some man talking to him, tall, good-looking, leaning too close.
Zayn’s jaw tightened.
Harry noticed.
“Zayn,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing, his voice edged with tension. “Why do you keep looking over there?”
Zayn blinked, pulling his gaze back to him.
“What?”
Harry cupped his face, forcing his attention.
“What’s wrong? You’ve been distant since he showed up. You were fine earlier, but now it’s like you don’t even want to talk to me. What is it?”
Zayn’s heart gave a painful twist.
“It’s nothing. Just—” he looked toward the bar again, catching sight of River’s laughter, the way that man leaned closer — “maybe because my boyfriend is entertaining some fucking guy.”
Harry’s face hardened instantly.
“So what?” he snapped. “He wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place.”
Zayn turned his gaze back to him, swallowing his frustration.
“And you weren’t supposed to come with me either.”
The words fell like glass.
Harry’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across them before his expression crumbled.
“Wow,” he muttered, voice breaking slightly.
Zayn exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face.
“Harry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, reaching to take his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”
Harry looked at their joined hands, his lip trembling slightly before he nodded.
“I just…” he started softly, “I just wanted you to look at me like you cared. Is that really too much to ask?”
Zayn felt the guilt crawl up his throat.
“No,” he said gently. “It’s not too much. I’m sorry. I’ll pay you attention, I promise. The whole night, okay?”
Harry gave a small, hopeful smile, squeezing his hand.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Harry’s eyes softened again — but Zayn’s wandered almost immediately. He caught sight of Malvin returning with two drinks, smiling as he handed one to River.
Something twisted hard in his stomach. He wanted to look away, to focus on Harry, to stay in the moment — but it was suddenly impossible.
The party grew wilder as the night went on.
Liana, radiant and slightly flushed from dancing, now stood on a small platform with Damian beside her. They were laughing uncontrollably as someone shouted through a mic: “Story time! Tell us how the bride and groom met!”
Damian groaned, running a hand through his hair, while Liana dramatically grabbed the mic and started talking — embellishing everything.
“Well, it all started when this gorgeous man tripped over my heels at a restaurant,” she said, making everyone roar with laughter. “And instead of apologizing, he offered to buy me another pair. And that’s how I knew he was rich enough to tolerate me.”
Damian covered his face, laughing helplessly.
“That’s not what happened!”
“Oh, it is, Mr. Groom!” she teased, winking at the crowd. “He chased me for months until I gave in. He still does.”
The crowd cheered and clapped, people whistling and shouting playful dares. Someone yelled, “Kiss!” and Damian leaned down, pressing his lips to hers as the crowd erupted in cheers.
A group started a dance circle; couples were pulled in one by one. The lights dimmed again, painting everything in gold and blue. Drinks flowed freely, laughter spilled everywhere, and the heat of the night thickened.
But Zayn couldn’t let go of one thing.
River.
He scanned the room — over the crowd, the laughter, the dancing — trying to find him again. He saw flashes: River’s hair catching the light, his smile, the way Malvin’s hand brushed his arm.
Zayn’s pulse pounded painfully in his temples. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do — talk to him, pull him away, or just look. But he couldn’t stop.
Beside him, Harry noticed again. His eyes narrowed, his fingers curling around his drink like he wanted to crush the glass.
That boy — River — was ruining everything. He’d come out of nowhere and turned the night into chaos. He’d taken Zayn’s focus, his calm, his warmth.
And the way Zayn was staring across the room now — Harry could see it. The longing. The confusion.
Harry’s jaw tightened, and for a second, that easy charm he always carried cracked, revealing something darker underneath.
River was smiling with someone else.
And Zayn — the man who said he’d pay attention only to him — couldn’t take his eyes off him.
***
The air inside the men’s room was cold and sharp against River’s flushed skin. He stumbled in, his reflection already a blur in the mirror as he tried to steady himself. His eyes were a little hazy, his lips parted in a slow sigh. He’d had about three glasses too many, and though he wasn’t quite drunk out of his mind, the world was starting to sway just enough for him to feel it.
He leaned on the sink, breathing deeply. His shirt collar hung slightly open, his hair falling loosely around his face.
“Get it together,” he muttered under his breath, fumbling with the tap.
The cool water gushed out, and he cupped his hands to splash some on his face—but before he could, the bathroom door creaked open.
“Ah, there you are.”
The voice was smooth, annoyingly confident.
River looked through the mirror and saw Malvin strolling in with a wide grin, his shirt half unbuttoned and his eyes glinting like he had a secret.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” Malvin said, stepping closer.
River gave a soft, dizzy smile.
“I was starting to feel drunk,” he admitted, turning the tap off halfway. “Needed to wash my face a bit.”
Malvin’s chuckle echoed against the tiled walls.
“Or,” he murmured as he came up behind River, his reflection suddenly right there behind him, “we could get out of here and have some real fun somewhere else.”
Before River could even flinch, Malvin’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing him against his chest. River froze, staring at their reflection. He could see the grin on Malvin’s face and the faint gleam in his eyes—predatory.
“I… I want to go home,” River said quietly, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m tired. Thanks for the night, though.”
He started to move away, but Malvin’s hand shot out, spinning him and slamming him against the wall. River gasped, his back hitting the cold tiles with a dull thud. The man’s breath was hot, his cologne thick and suffocating.
“What the hell are you doing?” River demanded, trying to push him off.
Malvin smirked, his grip tightening.
“Don’t act all innocent now. You were flirting with me all night. What, you thought this wasn’t leading anywhere?”
“I said let go!” River snapped, shoving him again, but the man was too strong, his body pressing closer.
“Oh, come on,” Malvin hissed, leaning in, “you look like you like it rough. I can give you that.”
River’s pulse spiked in terror as the man crushed his lips against his, kissing him forcefully. River struggled, twisting, trying to scream, but Malvin’s hand came up, covering his mouth. The sound of his heartbeat roared in his ears as panic set in. His legs kicked against the wall, hands clawing at Malvin’s arm, trying to break free.
And then—
A loud crash.
Malvin was suddenly ripped off him with inhuman force, his body flying across the room and slamming into the sink. The sharp crack of glass and metal echoed. River dropped to the floor, gasping, one hand clutching his chest as he coughed and tried to steady his breathing.
When he lifted his eyes, he saw him—
Zayn.
He was on top of Malvin, fists flying like a storm. His face was twisted with fury, veins in his neck bulging, his jaw clenched tight. Malvin tried to shield himself, crying out in pain, his forehead split open from where he’d hit the sink.
“Zayn, please!” the man screamed, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean— I didn’t mean to force him—”
But Zayn didn’t stop. The sound of his punches was terrifying—raw, brutal, unrelenting.
“You touch him again,” Zayn roared, “and I’ll kill you. You hear me? I’ll kill you!”
Malvin stumbled to his feet, clutching his bleeding head. He bolted out of the bathroom like hell itself was behind him. The door slammed shut.
Zayn stood there, chest heaving, knuckles red, his eyes burning. Then he turned to River.
“Hey—hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice shaking with both rage and worry.
River, sitting weakly on the floor, let out a dazed little laugh.
“My hero,” he mumbled, smiling crookedly.
Zayn blinked.
“River, are you—are you drunk?”
River grinned, pushing himself up with his help.
“Maybe a little. Because I can. And because my date was with Harry all night,” he teased, slurring slightly.
Zayn frowned, exasperated.
“You’re too drunk. We’re going home.”
River giggled, leaning heavily against him.
“Home sounds nice, my hero.”
He threw an arm lazily around Zayn’s shoulders as they stepped out of the bathroom. The party was still alive—music pulsing, laughter echoing, lights flashing in gold and red.
They barely made it a few steps before Harry appeared, his expression thunderous.
“Zayn, what the hell did I just hear?” Harry barked. “Did you hurt someone? Are you insane?”
“He tried to force himself on River,” Zayn said bluntly, pulling River closer.
River giggled again.
“My hero.”
Harry looked between them, disbelief and anger in his eyes.
“That doesn’t give you the right to attack someone like that! That guy’s been with River all night—maybe they agreed—”
“Shut up,” Zayn snapped.
Harry froze, his face going pale with shock.
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said shut up,” Zayn repeated, his tone cold. “You’re defending him when River was the victim.”
Harry’s eyes darkened.
“You’re acting like a fool, Zayn. You’re letting him—”
But before he could finish, River’s voice suddenly echoed through the speakers.
“Attention everyone!”
The crowd turned. Zayn and Harry did too—only to see River on stage, one hand holding the mic, the other waving sheepishly.
“I have something I need to do,” he said, his smile bright and tipsy. “A little performance for someone very special to me.”
The DJ chuckled, muttering into the mic,
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” and hit play.
The room filled with the sultry intro of Beyoncé’s Dance for You.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
River started swaying, every movement fluid and graceful despite the alcohol in his veins. He locked eyes with Zayn and smiled—a slow, teasing curve of his lips. He made his way toward him, hips rolling in rhythm, his fingers sliding down his shirt buttons as the lyrics filled the room.
“Wanna show you how much... how much you understood
Wanna show you how much, i really care about your heart…”
The cheers grew louder as he reached Zayn, circling him like a flame around a moth. He reached up, tugged on Zayn’s collar, pulling him close enough that their breaths mingled, his hair getting loose. Zayn sat frozen, speechless, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The crowd went wild when River gently pushed him into a chair that appeared as if by magic, then danced around him—hips moving, gaze locked, the world dissolving into music and heat. Then he sat on his lap and gave him a quick lap dance that left him completely breathless.
It was sexy. It was chaotic. It was completely unplanned.
And Harry saw red.
He stood there stiffly, fury curling his fists while everyone screamed and clapped, phones flashing as the scene burned into their memories.
The song neared its end, and River, laughing, wrapped his arms around Zayn’s neck and hugged him tightly, whispering something into his ear that only he could hear.
Zayn, still in shock, could only chuckle nervously.
“Okay,” he muttered, getting up quickly, his hand tightening around River’s waist. “We’re leaving.”
River blew kisses at the cheering crowd, giggling as Zayn dragged him away from the lights and noise.
***
River ben over by the side of the road. A guttural sound escaped his throat, and then he was vomiting—violently, helplessly—as though his body was rejecting everything it had consumed that night.
Zayn was by his side in an instant. He crouched beside him, one hand holding River’s hair back from his face, the other rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.
“Get it all out,” Zayn murmured softly, his voice low but steady. “Just breathe, River. You’re okay. Get it out.”
River’s body trembled as he leaned forward again, another wave hitting him hard. His breath came in shudders, his stomach twisting, his entire body shaking. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes as he gagged, gasping for air between heaves.
Zayn stayed there, patient and unflinching, letting River lean on him when he needed to. He didn’t care about the mess or the smell—he only cared about the way River’s voice broke when he tried to breathe, the sound of his coughs echoing in the still night.
When it was finally over, River sagged against the wall, panting heavily, his skin pale and damp with sweat.
“Done?” Zayn asked quietly.
River nodded weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his trembling hand.
Zayn reached into the car for a bottle of water and handed it to him.
“Here. Rinse your mouth.”
River took it with shaky fingers, unscrewed the cap, and swished the water in his mouth before spitting it out. He did it twice, then took a small sip.
When he handed it back, his lips curled into a tired, lopsided smile.
“I’m never drinking again,” he said, his voice hoarse and almost childlike.
Zayn couldn’t help it—he burst into laughter. The sound filled the night, warm and deep.
“Yeah, sure. You probably said that last time too.”
River grinned weakly.
“Did I?”
“Mm-hm,” Zayn said, still laughing. “And yet here we are again.”
River’s chuckle was soft but genuine. As they started walking back toward the car, he tilted his head back to look at the sky. The stars were scattered across the black velvet of night, glowing faintly like they were whispering secrets to each other.
He slowed down and smiled.
“The sky’s beautiful tonight,” he murmured. “Like it’s celebrating something.”
Zayn glanced up, then at him.
“Yeah. It’s nice.”
River stopped completely, then sat down right there on the pavement.
“River, what are you—”
“Sit,” River said, tugging at his hand.
Zayn sighed but smiled, giving in. He sat beside him, their shoulders brushing.
The world around them felt still. The hum of distant traffic faded into the background as they looked up together, the stars reflecting faintly in River’s glassy eyes.
After a moment, River spoke again, his voice softer now.
“Three days,” he said quietly.
Zayn turned his head.
“What?”
“Three days until our deal ends,” River said, still looking at the sky. “Three days and Damian’s getting married.”
There was a small pause. The weight of those words settled between them, unspoken but heavy.
River turned his head and looked at Zayn, smiling faintly.
“You know… I actually thought I wasn’t going to enjoy this whole arrangement. I thought it would be awkward or fake or… just tiring. But it wasn’t.”
Zayn listened, his eyes fixed on him.
“I got to see who the real Zayn is,” River continued, his words slurring just slightly but his tone sincere. “Or maybe I thought I did. Your family’s really nice—well, most of them.” He chuckled softly. “And you… you’re not as bad as I thought.”
Zayn smirked.
“Gee, thanks.”
River laughed again, leaning back on his hands.
“I mean it. You’re different. You’re kind. Smart. Stubborn as hell, but… good-hearted. You hide it, but it’s there.”
Zayn felt his chest tighten at those words. He turned away for a second, his voice low when he spoke.
“You’re so different from what I thought, too.”
River raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“I thought you were just this boring, lazy and nerdy kid.” Zayn said, smiling softly. “But you’re… you’re actually amazing. You’re funny, intelligent, thoughtful—and, well,” his voice softened further, “you’re beautiful, River. Inside and out. Whoever ends up with you… they’re going to be very lucky.”
River’s smile faltered just slightly, his eyes glistening in the dim light.
“I hope so,” he whispered.
Zayn turned to look at him then, really look. The soft curve of his lips, the faint shimmer of moisture in his eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead—it made his heart ache for reasons he couldn’t name.
River met his gaze and chuckled quietly.
“You better be right about that.”
The night stretched in silence again. Crickets sang in the distance. The stars above them pulsed faintly, the world slowing down around their shared warmth.
Without saying a word, River leaned closer and rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder. The movement was small but tender. Zayn froze for a heartbeat, his breath catching in his throat. Then, instinctively, he wrapped his arm around him, pulling him closer.
“Comfortable?” Zayn asked softly.
River hummed.
“Mhm. You’re warm.”
Zayn smiled, feeling something inside him stir—something deep, quiet, and confusing.
River’s breathing began to slow. Within minutes, his body went still, his head heavy against Zayn’s shoulder. He’d fallen asleep, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.
Zayn sat there, not moving, watching him. His hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, his face peaceful, unguarded. Zayn’s heart thudded softly as he looked back up at the stars.
“Yeah,” he murmured under his breath, his thumb brushing gently against River’s arm. “It really is beautiful tonight.”
He stayed there for a long time, just listening to the sound of River’s soft breathing, his own heartbeat steadying with it.
For the first time in a long while, the world didn’t feel lonely.
To be continued...
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