Requests are open, free scenarios only

This wasn’t how the day was supposed to end.

Not with you sitting alone in the secluded corner of a booth, nursing a cocktail despite barely drinking, in a nightclub far too luxurious for your bank account, tears silently streaming down your face.

You were supposed to be in a cozy restaurant, celebrating your boyfriend's birthday over a nice dinner. You had planned everything weeks in advance.

You'd requested the day off work so you'd be free as soon as your classes ended. The moment your last lecture finished, you rushed home to get changed before stopping by a local bakery to collect the cake you'd ordered. Nothing extravagant - just a small cake, enough for a few slices. Your boyfriend had never been much of a fan of sweets anyway. It was more symbolic than anything.

His present had been wrapped neatly in a gift box, complete with a ribbon and birthday card. You'd bought him a tie from one of his favourite luxury designer brands.

A brand far beyond the budget of a broke college student.

You'd spent months saving for it, surviving on instant noodles.

But this was your boyfriend.

He deserved the best.

With cake in hand and the gift tucked safely inside your handbag, you'd made your way to the upscale apartment building where he lived. You greeted the receptionist on your way through the lobby before stepping into the elevator.

Once upstairs, you entered the code and let yourself into the apartment.

You knew he'd still be at work, which was exactly why you'd come early. You wanted to surprise him.

You placed the cake in the refrigerator to keep it chilled. You planned to give him his present later at the restaurant where you'd already reserved a table.

Needing to use the bathroom, you headed upstairs.

Halfway down the hallway, you stopped.

Muffled sounds drifted from the bedroom.

A breathless moan.

The bedroom door stood slightly ajar.

You stepped closer and slowly pushed it open.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your chest tightened.

There, tangled together on the bed, lay your boyfriend...

...and your stepsister, Elizabeth.

Completely naked.

They both looked up at the same time.

Shock spread across their faces.

You didn't scream.

You didn't cry.

You simply closed the bedroom door and rushed out of the apartment.

…

You wandered the streets of Linkon City aimlessly.

Your vision was blurred by tears.

Your mind numb.

Your body was moving on autopilot.

You never noticed the afternoon fade into evening.

Eventually, a bright neon sign caught your attention.

Without thinking, you walked inside.

…

And that's how you ended up here...

You and your boyfriend hadn't even been together for very long.

Just under two years.

The two of you had met during one of the darkest periods of your life.

Not long after your father passed away.

The doctors had warned him that if he didn't change his lifestyle - if he didn't reduce the stress in his life - he wouldn't survive another heart attack.

Your father had been the only parent you had left.

Your mother had died from cancer when you were so young that you could barely remember her.

For most of your life, it had been just you and your father.

That changed when you were fourteen.

He remarried.

You never truly liked your stepmother, Miranda.

Nor did you get along with her daughter, Elizabeth, who was a few years older than you.

Still, for your father's sake, the three of you maintained the illusion of being one happy family whenever he was around.

The moment he wasn't...

...you simply stayed out of each other's way.

You always knew Elizabeth was spoiled, selfish, and accustomed to getting whatever she wanted.

You just never imagined...

...she'd decide she wanted your boyfriend too.

…

Valko senses something unusual the moment he steps inside the bar.

He makes his way to the counter and settles onto one of the stools.

“Welcome, sir,” the bartender greets, polishing the inside of a glass with a cloth. “The usual?”

Valko gives a distracted nod, his gaze sweeping across the nearly empty club.

“Quiet tonight,” the bartender remarks as he sets a glass in front of him. “To be expected on a weekday.”

Valko hummed absently.

His nostrils flare as he draws a slow breath.

A scent lingers in the air.

Soft.

Sweet.

Floral.

Orchids...perhaps.

A scent that stands out more vividly than anything else.

His pulse quickens.

Picking up his drink, he wanders through the club at an unhurried pace, though his sharp eyes scan every corner like a predator stalking unseen prey.

Then he stops.

His head turns slightly.

In the secluded corner of a booth sits a lone woman.

Her shoulders are slumped.

Her head hangs low.

A half-finished cocktail sits forgotten in front of her.

His feet carry him toward her until he comes to a stop beside the table.

Sensing the shadow that has fallen over you, you slowly lift your head.

Your eyes meet.

A shiver shoots through Valko's entire body, racing from the base of his spine to the tips of his toes.

He's found you.

The one his family has been telling him about since childhood.

The one destiny has chosen for him.

His mate.

You sniffle quietly before wiping at your tear-stained cheeks, only succeeding in smudging the remains of your mascara even further.

Something dark stirrs inside him and his jaw tightens.

Who had made his mate cry?

“Who hurt you, flower?”

The words - and the endearment - leave his lips before he has the chance to stop them.

You simply stare at him too numb to answer.

A storm of emotions rage inside Valko.

He wants to hunt down whoever has reduced you to tears and tear them apart with his bare hands.

He wants to take every ounce of your pain and carry it himself.

More than anything...

...he wants to pull you into his arms, hold you close, and promise you that no one will ever hurt you again.

Instead...

...he does the only sensible thing he can think of.

He takes out his phone.

“You look exhausted,” he says gently. “It's late.”

After a brief exchange, he slips his phone back into his pocket.

“I've arranged a ride home.”

You don't take his outstretched hand.

But you slowly raise to your feet.

Valko steps aside, allowing you to walk ahead while he stays close behind, his hand hovering just behind your back.

Moments later, a sleek black sedan pulls up outside the club.

He opens the rear passenger door for you.

Without a word, you climb inside.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asks politely through the rear-view mirror.

Valko waits patiently until you quietly give your address.

Only then does he close the door.

Leaning down to the open driver's window, he meets the driver's eyes.

“Make sure she gets home safely.”

Valko remains where he stands, watching until the taillights disappear around the corner.

Only then does he retrieve his phone once more.

“There's something I need you to investigate.”

“I want everything there is to know about her.”

——————————————————————

It's been a few days since you caught your boyfriend cheating.

And the bastard hasn't contacted you even once.

No calls.

No texts.

No explanation.

No apology.

No desperate plea for forgiveness.

Nothing.

As you approach the front gates of your college, your stomach sinks.

Of all the people you could have run into...

It had to be her.

You instinctively take a few steps back, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

No such luck.

You decide it's easier to walk straight past her than acknowledge her existence.

“Giving me the silent treatment?” Elizabeth calls after you. “How mature.”

“If you've come to gloat or rub salt in the wound, don't waste your time,” you reply without slowing your pace.

The sharp click of her high heels echoes across the pavement as she falls into step beside you.

“I kept telling him it was only a matter of time before we got caught.” Her voice drips with smug satisfaction. “I mean, he'd been sleeping with me for almost as long as the two of you were dating.”

Your footsteps falter for the briefest moment.

Then you keep walking.

“The only reason he asked you out in the first place was because of your daddy's money.” She lets out a mocking laugh. “But once he realized there wasn't any..." She shrugs dramatically. “He moved on.”

“He just didn't have the heart to dump you.”

You stop so abruptly that Elizabeth nearly walks into you.

You turn to face her.

“Did you really come all the way here just to tell me that?” you ask, your voice flat.

“Oh.” Elizabeth taps a finger against her lips as if she'd only just remembered. “I almost forgot.”

“My mother wants to see you.”

“It seems you've been ignoring all her calls.”

Your brows knit together.

“What could Miranda possibly want with me?”

Elizabeth merely shrugs, inspecting her manicured nails.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Then a smirk spreads across her face.

“I can give you a lift to the company.”

Without waiting for an answer, she spins on her heel and saunters away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly with every step.

Miranda would never summon you over something trivial.

And knowing the kind of woman she was...

Refusing wasn't an option.

…

A few days ago, Miranda had welcomed a most unexpected - yet no less welcome - guest into her office.

“Mr. Valko.” She greeted him with a polished smile as she stepped forward to shake his hand. “It's an honor to finally meet you. Please, have a seat.”

She gestured toward one of the armchairs.

Valko sat, though his broad frame was far too large for it to be remotely comfortable. Miranda settled into the chair opposite him, crossing one leg over the other with practiced elegance.

“May I offer you something to drink?”

“That won't be necessary.” His voice was businesslike. “I'd prefer to keep this brief.”

The moment he'd stepped into the office, a sharp scent had assaulted his senses.

Unpleasant.

It lingered so heavily in the air that every instinct urged him to leave as quickly as possible.

“I'll get straight to the point. I understand your company is seeking investment from EonCore Tech,” Valko said.

“I don't know how much you know about this company, Mr. Valko, but we devote our resources to improving the lives of society's less fortunate - the disabled, the unfortunate souls who must rely on others just to get through everyday life.”

Miranda smiled as though expecting praise.

“To continue our research, expand our facilities, and develop new technologies, we require funding.”

She gestured toward the thick proposal folder resting on the coffee table between them.

“I've prepared all the necessary documents.”

“If EonCore Tech is to invest…” Valko said at last, “...I have one condition.”

He raised a single finger.

Miranda smiled confidently.

“I'm sure we can reach an agreement.”

“I intend to marry your daughter.”

Miranda clasped her hands together, delighted.

“How wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“Elizabeth will make an excellent wife.”

Valko frowned.

“Elizabeth?”

A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

“I'm referring to Y/N.”

Miranda's smile vanished instantly.

Her gaze turned considerably colder.

“...Y/N?” she repeated.

“I'm afraid you've been misinformed. She's merely my stepdaughter.”

She gave a dismissive little laugh.

“Mr. Valko, believe me when I say that girl is nothing but a constant disappointment... and, quite frankly, an embarrassment.”

Valko's hands curled into fists.

Oblivious, Miranda continued.

“If you're looking for a wife worthy of your status, Elizabeth would be a far more suitable choice.”

Valko calmly reached for the proposal folder.

He picked it up and rose to his feet.

“My condition is final.”

He held up the file.

“I will marry Y/N before EonCore Tech signs these documents.”

“If that condition isn't met…”

“...there will be no deal.”

…

——————————————————————

“Enter!” Miranda's voice comes, muffled through the thick wooden door.

You push it open and quietly close it behind you.

Miranda glances up from the paperwork spread across her desk, peering at you over the rim of her glasses.

“About time,” she says sharply. “Must I send someone to hunt you down every time I need you?”

“Nice to see you too, Miranda,” you mumble.

She removes her glasses and places them neatly on the desk.

“I'll get straight to the point.” She folds her hands together. “A chairman has finally agreed to invest in the company.”

You blink.

“...Congratulations?”

“What does that have to do with me?”

You had nothing to do with your father's company.

After his death, ownership had passed to Miranda, just as he'd stipulated in his will.

“The chairman has one condition,” Miranda continues.

“And he has made it abundantly clear that he will not negotiate.”

“He wants to marry you.”

You stare at her, convinced you'd misheard.

Judging by the look on Miranda's face...

...you hadn't.

“No.”

The answer leaves your mouth immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“I refuse to become a pawn in one of your business deals.”

“And why me?”

“If he's a wealthy, successful chairman, surely Elizabeth would be a much more suitable match.”

Miranda's jaw visibly tightens.

“He rejected Elizabeth.”

For the first time since entering the office, you smile.

Elizabeth had spent her entire life believing every man would fall at her feet.

Knowing someone had rejected her...

...was satisfying.

“My answer is still no.”

Miranda lets out a soft laugh.

“How adorable.”

She rises from her chair and slowly walks around the desk until she's standing directly in front of you.

“You seem to think this is a request.”

She leans one hand against the desk.

Her smile is cold.

“You will marry him…”

“...or you can say goodbye to your apartment.”

Your eyes widen.

“You can't do that!”

“My scholarship and my part-time job are barely enough to cover my living expenses. I'm graduating with my bachelor's degree this year.”

Your father had rented an apartment close to campus before your first semester began.

After his death, Miranda had agreed to continue paying for it...

...on the one condition that you stay out of her way.

“What a shame,” she muses.

“It would be unfortunate if the last two years of your education went to waste.”

She already knew she'd won.

Reaching into a drawer, she slid an envelope across the desk.

“Everything has already been arranged.”

You slowly pick it up.

Miranda smiles sweetly.

“Try not to be late for your own wedding.”

——————————————————————

You'd always imagined getting married one day.

At least...

...you'd hoped you would.

Just not at twenty years old.

Not to a man you'd never met.

And certainly not without your father there to walk you down the aisle.

You smooth the front of the off-white dress.

You'd even attempted to style your hair into a bridal updo.

Part of you had hoped you'd wake up before any of this became real.

You didn't.

Step by step, you walk down the aisle toward the man waiting at the front.

Valko.

The only thing you know about him...

...is his name.

The wedding is small.

Held inside the town hall with barely anyone in attendance.

There's the officiant.

Miranda, wearing her usual polished business smile.

Elizabeth, glaring at you with poorly concealed resentment.

An unfamiliar man standing beside Valko, presumably someone close to him.

And Valko himself.

The moment you stop beside him, he turns to look at you.

Then he smiles.

A genuine one.

Overflowing with happiness.

If he were a dog...

...you swear his tail would be wagging.

The officiant begins reading.

You barely hear a word.

Instead, you steal curious glances at the stranger you've agreed to marry.

He's young.

Probably somewhere in his twenties.

Incredibly tall.

Standing beside him, the top of your head barely reaches his chest.

Broad shoulders.

A solid build.

Striking amber eyes unlike any you've ever seen.

Crimson hair with a violet sheen beneath the light, brushed back from his forehead.

“...I do.”

Your voice is scarcely louder than a whisper.

Moments later...

...it's over.

You're married.

——————————————————————

The drive passes in complete silence.

At least on your end.

Valko tries to make conversation, but his words barely register.

You simply stare out the window.

Eventually, the car rolls into the driveway of a mansion.

It reminds you of the house you once called home before your father died.

So, this was your new home.

Valko eagerly offers to show you around.

You barely pay attention.

Finally, he opens a door.

“This will be your bedroom.”

Relief washes over you.

Your own bedroom.

Not a shared one.

Without a word, you step inside.

You slam the door shut in Valko's face.

A second later, you turn the lock.

——————————————————————

Days had passed since the wedding.

And you'd avoided Valko completely.

He could hear you moving around the mansion.

He could smell your scent lingering in the hallways.

Yet you refused to see him let alone speak to him.

So tonight, Valko stands by the front door, arms folded across his chest, his foot tapping impatiently against the marble floor.

He glances down at his watch.

Where are you?

Are you even coming home tonight?

His ears perk up as he hears footsteps crunch across the gravel outside.

A moment later, fingers tap in the security code.

The front door swings open and you step inside, looking exhausted.

The moment you close the door behind you, Valko speaks.

“Where were you? I was worried.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Good grief!” You clutch your chest. “Why are you standing by the front door in the dark like some kind of serial killer?”

“I asked first.”

You sigh.

“I was at work.”

He uncrosses his arms.

“What happened at the company that kept you there this late?”

“...Company?”

You frown.

“I work at the cinema.”

“The cinema?”

His confusion is genuine.

You stare at him.

“For the same reason everyone works.”

“Money.”

Valko reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Speaking of money…”

“…I've been meaning to give you this.”

He holds out a sleek black bank card.

“The account is in your name,” he explains. “You're free to use it whenever you need. If the balance ever gets low, just let me know. I'll transfer more.”

“Are you serious?”

Your voice echoes through the entrance hall.

You throw the card straight at his chest.

It bounces off him before clattering onto the marble floor.

Oh no.

His mate is angry.

At him.

“It's bad enough I was forced into this marriage because of some business deal,L you snap.

“And now you're treating me like I'm some kind of gold digger?”

You shove past him.

Valko hurries after you and steps in front of the staircase, blocking your path.

“I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention.”

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“…Please.”

His shoulders sag.

“Just... don't shut me out.”

There is something almost puppy-like in the way he looks at you.

“Please... give me a chance.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“We can talk.”

“Get to know each other.”

The desperation in his voice catches you off guard.

Perhaps...

...you’ve been taking your frustration out on the wrong person.

If anyone deserves your resentment...

It is Miranda.

——————————————————————

“Please tell me this isn't the restaurant we're eating at.”

You stare out the window as Valko pulls up to an elegant, high-end restaurant.

In the end...

...you'd agreed to dinner.

“Is something wrong?”

“Places like this have a dress code.”

You glance down at your outfit - a simple oversized sweater, jeans and worn boots.

Valko looks you over before smiling.

“I think you look lovely.”

“Don't blame me when they turn us away at the door.”

You reach for the handle.

“Don't.”

Before you can open the door yourself, Valko is already out of the car.

He hurries around to your side and opens the door for you before offering his hand.

You hesitate before taking it.

His hand is warm.

He helps you out before gently offering you his arm.

Together, you make your way toward the entrance.

To your surprise, the hostess doesn't so much as glance at your outfit.

She greets you and leads the two of you onto an outdoor terrace.

Your table sits beneath strings of fairy lights overlooking the city.

Valko pulls out your chair before sliding it in once you've sat down.

At the very least...

...he's undeniably gentlemanly.

A waiter approaches with two menus.

“What would you like to drink?”

After taking your order, he leaves you to look over the menu.

“...I don't know what half of these dishes even are,” you mutter.

The menu may as well have been written in another language.

Valko chuckles.

“I’ll handle the ordering.”

You lean forward.

“...Everyone's staring at me.”

“I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Valko glances around the terrace.

Then, in a much louder than necessary, he says,

“Excuse me.”

Several nearby guests and servers look over.

“I know my wife is absolutely stunning…”

Your eyes widen.

You hurriedly try to shush him.

“...but could everyone please stop staring at her?”

“You're making her uncomfortable.”

When he finally sits back down, you can't help giggling.

“You're ridiculous.”

Valko's face lights up.

He'd made you laugh.

“I'm glad you agreed to have dinner with me,” he says softly.

“...I'm sorry…For yelling at you yesterday.”

Valko smiles.

“It wasn't all bad.”

“In fact…”

A mischievous glint appears in his amber eyes.

“You being angry with me was strangely attractive.”

He gives you an unapologetic wink.

Before you can respond, the waiter returns carrying several beautifully presented dishes.

As soon as the waiter leaves, Valko speaks again.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

“I'd like to get to know you.”

You look down at your plate.

“I'm not very good at talking about myself.”

You shrug.

“...Why don't you just ask me whatever you want to know?”

“The problem is…”

He smiles sheepishly.

“I want to know everything.”

Seeing your uncertainty, he quickly adds,

“How about you ask me something first.”

“I'm an open book.”

Setting your fork down you meet his eyes.

“Why would someone like you…”

“...handsome…”

“...successful…”

“...wealthy…”

“...choose to marry me?”

A smug grin spreads across his face.

“Soooo…”

“…You think I'm handsome."

“...Of course that's the part you focused on.”

“I would never lie to you.”

The teasing disappears from his expression.

“But the real reason…”

“...is complicated.”

He pauses.

“And…”

“...you're not ready to hear it yet.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Let me guess.”

“Your parents left you a trust fund that you can only inherit if you're married by a certain age.”

Valko lets out an amused laugh.

“A classic.”

“But no.”

He shakes his head.

“I promise I'll tell you someday.”

He holds your gaze.

“Until then…”

“...just trust me.”

Strangely...

...you do.

You just aren't sure why.

…

To your surprise, the evening turns out to be far more pleasant than expected. The conversation flows with surprising ease. Valko is cheeky and playful, constantly teasing you, but you find yourself strangely drawn to that side of him.

“I had a really nice time. Thank you,” you say genuinely as he drives.

“In that case, you won’t have any objections to me taking you shopping tomorrow,” Valko says, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I can’t tomorrow. I have work.”

“Not anymore.”

“I don’t remember my shift being cancelled.”

“It wasn’t. I resigned on your behalf.”

You stare at him.

“You did what?”

Before you can properly react, Valko quickly continues.

“Before you get angry, I’m not trying to control you. You’re free to work if that’s what you want.” He glances at you. “But I refuse to sit back and watch my wife spend her days scrubbing toilets and cleaning up popcorn spills when she’s capable of so much more.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he continues.

“You’re studying business. Come work at EonCore Tech if you’re interested.”

You want to be angry at him. You probably should be.

Yet, deep down, you know his intentions aren’t cruel.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally say.

——————————————————————

“Welcome. How may I assist you today?” a saleswoman greets cheerfully the moment you enter the department store.

“My wife needs a new wardrobe,” Valko says confidently. “I’ll leave her in your hands.”

She leads you towards a fitting room that is practically the size of your old apartment.

Valko takes a seat on the couch outside.

You quickly lose count of how many outfits you try on.

And every single time, Valko insists on seeing them.

Every single time, he compliments you.

It becomes less like shopping and more like a personal fashion show where Valko is your most enthusiastic audience member.

“I’ll take everything my wife has tried on,” Valko says, handing his card to the saleswoman.

“Valko, please don’t. What am I supposed to do with this many clothes?”

“Wear them?”

You give him a look.

“Then again...” His lips curl into a mischievous smile. “They might look even better on my bedroom floor.”

Before you can respond, the saleswoman speaks.

“Would you like to see our lingerie collection as well?”

“Please,” Valko agrees before you can even open your mouth.

You stare at him.

“If you think I’m putting on a show in lingerie, you are very much mistaken,” you say deadpan.

“But I’m your husband,” he says, giving you an exaggeratedly innocent look.

“You haven’t earned that privilege.”

Not yet.

But he will. One day, he will.

…

“What a lovely couple. Welcome.”

The jeweler greets you both as you enter.

“What brings you here today? A hunt for wedding rings perhaps?”

“Already taken care of.”

Valko proudly holds up his hand, showing his ring.

“Speaking of wedding rings...” Valko glances at your hand. “Why do I notice you rarely wear yours?”

“I don’t wear it at school or work,” you explain. “I can’t risk people noticing and asking questions.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“No.”

You sigh.

“If people notice, they’ll ask questions. What am I supposed to say? That my evil stepmother financially blackmailed me into marrying a chairman who insisted on marrying me as part of a business deal for reasons he refuses to explain?”

Silence.

The jeweler awkwardly clears his throat.

“Perhaps I could show you some of our newest arrivals.”

You both follow him towards the display cases.

“Does anything catch your eye?” Valko asks.

You hum thoughtfully.

You’ve never really been someone who wears jewelry.

Then suddenly, a thought comes to mind.

You take out your phone and scroll through your gallery until you find the picture you’re looking for.

“Is there any chance of getting these earrings? The exact ones?”

The jeweler takes your phone carefully.

He puts on his glasses and studies the image.

“Give me a moment, please.”

He disappears into the back.

“What’s so special about those earrings?” Valko asks.

“My father gave them to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

“I don’t have them anymore.”

“Did you lose them?”

“If only.”

Your voice lowers.

“I was in a difficult situation and had to sell them. Along with a lot of other things that had value.”

Valko’s hands tighten into fists.

Something about this doesn’t sit right with him.

The financial situation.

The small apartment.

The job at the cinema despite your father’s company.

And now this.

None of it makes sense.

“I need to make a call,” he says, stepping outside.

The moment he is out of earshot, he pulls out his phone.

“I need you to investigate my wife’s finances. Her father’s death. The company. Her stepfamily.”

“Everything.”

…

When Valko returns, the jeweler comes back from the room behind the counter.

“I’ve identified the earrings, Madam. Unfortunately, we no longer carry them. They were part of an older collection.”

Your expression falls.

“But don’t lose hope. I’ll make some calls. There may still be a chance of finding another pair. If you leave your contact information, I’ll notify you immediately.”

“Thank you.”

You write down your number.

“For now, I’ll take these.”

You point towards another pair.

“Excellent choice.”

As the jeweler prepares them, you stare at Valko.

He notices.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“The reason I chose these earrings is because they reminded me of your eyes.”

If he wasn’t standing in the middle of a store, he was fairly certain he would howl with happiness.

——————————————————————

“Valko?”

You rise from your seat at the kitchen table, surprised to see him home so early.

His eyes move from you to the unfamiliar woman sitting across from you.

About an hour ago, you invited your best friend Tara over to finally explain everything that had happened.

Up until now, you had been avoiding her.

Tara had gone through every possible emotion upon hearing your story.

“This is my best friend, Tara,” you introduce. “Tara, this is Valko. My husband...the one I told you about.”

You glance at him hesitantly.,

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited her over.”

Tara suddenly stands.

“You mean to tell me this is your husband?”

You barely have time to react before she smacks the back of your head.

“Ow!”

“When you told me you were forced into a marriage of convenience, I pictured some old, frail, ninety-year-old man who was halfway into the grave.”

Her eyes travel over Valko.

“Not a literal godlike hunk.”

She turns back to you, looking genuinely offended.

“You have absolutely no right to complain about being married to this.”

She gestures dramatically towards Valko.

“If you don’t want him, I’ll happily take him off your hands.”

Valko lets out a deep laugh.

“Tara, was it?”

“I like you already.”

Then he looks at you, his expression softening.

“But I’m afraid my flower here is the only one for me.”

——————————————————————

“What do you think?”

Valko had asked you to join him in his home office, presenting you with a page showing a luxury wellness retreat.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Let me guess. Since I refused to put on lingerie, you’re trying a different approach?”

“Are you trying for what? A bikini? A towel?”

“As much as I would enjoy seeing either of those things...”

He pauses.

“I wouldn't be going with you.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I thought you and Tara could go together.”

Your suspicion grows.

“Why all of a sudden?”

He leans back.

“I just thought you might enjoy having a girls’ weekend. Or whatever it is you call them.”

Something about this feels suspicious.

Valko is hiding something.

But instead of pushing, you accept the offer.

Besides...

Tara would probably kill you if you turned down a free luxury wellness retreat.

——————————————————————

The weekend wellness retreat with Tara is relaxing and fun.

Yet, despite having a wonderful time, your thoughts keep drifting back to Valko.

The day you left, he had seemed... different.

Almost as if he was forcing himself to keep his distance.

Throughout the entire weekend, he never called. His replies to your messages were brief.

…

“Valko?”

Your voice echoes through the manor as you close the front door behind you.

“I’m home.”

Since he knew what time you were returning, you expected him to be here.

Actually, you expected him to pick you up from the hotel himself.

Instead, his secretary had been waiting.

When you asked about Valko, all you received was a vague response.

“Valko?”

You call again, stepping further inside.

The next thing you know, the world flips.

At impossible speed, you’re lifted off the ground.

A startled yelp escapes you as you’re carried across the room and dropped onto the mattress.

A large figure looms above you.

Amber eyes glow in the dim light.

And on top of his head...

Are those wolf ears?

“You scared me,” you huff.

“Also... what’s with the cosplay?”

You reach up, fingers moving towards one of his ears.

Valko's expression shifts from surprise to pure panic.

“Flower?”

He moves away, retreating to the edge of the bed as if he’s afraid of himself.

You sit up, concern replacing your amusement.

“Are you alright?”

“Why... why are you here?”

His voice is deeper than usual.

“What day is it?”

You frown.

“Monday. The weekend is over.”

Valko covers his face with both hands.

That’s when you notice the sharp claws extending from his fingertips.

The room is nearly dark, the curtains drawn shut, so you reach over and turn on the bedside lamp.

And finally, you see him properly.

The wolf ears.

The claws.

The sharper teeth.

The large, fluffy tail behind him.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this.”

He slowly lowers his hands.

“I guess... it’s time I tell you the truth.”

…

“So let me get this straight.”

You stare at him.

“You’re telling me you’re a werewolf.”

“And I’m your mate, which basically means I’m your "destined partner".”

“And the reason you look like this is because I triggered your... heat.”

“Which, if I understand correctly, is basically your version of being extremely horny?”

Your eyes briefly flick down before quickly returning to his face.

Valko clears his throat.

“...Pretty much.”

You stare at him.

“I sensed something was wrong with you, but I have to admit... this was not what I expected.”

Your brow furrows.

“You’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

“It’s not exactly pleasant.”

“But how can you tell?”

“I don’t know.”

“For the past few days I’ve been feeling things. Emotions that don’t feel like mine.”

Valko’s expression softens.

“That’s the mating bond.”

“The bond lets mates sense each other’s emotions.”

You tilt your head.

“How does that work exactly?”

You pat the top of your head jokingly, as if checking whether a pair of ears have somehow appeared without your knowledge.

Because last time I checked, I wasn’t growing fur.”

“The stronger the connection between mates, the stronger the bond becomes.”

“I think, in your own way, you accepted me before you even knew the truth.”

You’re quiet for a moment.

“What can I do to help?”

“Let me hold you.”

The request is almost vulnerable.

You open your arms.

That’s all the permission he needs.

Valko buries his face against your shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“You smell like orchids.”

“So thattt’s why you call me flower.”

“I’m late to ask this, but... can I mark you?”

“Please tell me that doesn’t mean you want to pee on me.”

“That’s a weird kink.”

“I don’t have any kinks.”

You scratch behind one of his ears.

His tail immediately starts wagging.

You grin.

“Although... I may be developing a thing for werewolves.”

A low growl rumbles from his chest.

“Please don’t tease me.”

“It is taking all my willpower not to jump you right now.”

Most people would probably be terrified in this situation.

Panic

Run.

You’re confused, yes.

You have a thousand questions.

But those can wait.

…

Valko wakes to sunlight slipping through a gap in the curtains.

His wolf-like features are gone.

He feels like himself again.

Slowly, he looks down.

You’re still there.

Sleeping peacefully beside him.

You didn’t run.

You stayed.

He gently pulls you closer, careful not to wake you.

His beautiful mate.

At first, Zayne told himself it was nothing more than neurological residue. The mind, after all, could respond strangely to intense stimuli. The Compatibility Vision had overwhelmed several sensory pathways at once. Visual memory, emotional recall, phantom touch. It made sense that he still felt the absent pressure of a ring on his finger some mornings. It made sense that he sometimes heard children laughing in the quiet of his apartment.

It made sense.

It had to. Zayne stood in his office at Akso Hospital with the cream-coloured envelope in his hand, reading your name beside another man’s. ...

The first fracture came with a wedding invitation. Zayne received it during a quiet morning between surgeries, when the hospital corridors still smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain. His phone lit up beside a stack of post-operative reports, and for a brief moment, he expected it to be another consultation request. Then he saw your name.

His thumb stilled.

Cream and gold filled the screen. Your wedding invitation.

For several seconds, he did nothing.

He simply stared at it, expression calm, posture composed, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. ...

Anyone passing by his office would have seen Dr Zayne, Chief Cardiac Surgeon, seated with his usual restraint.

No one would have known that something inside him had gone painfully still. You were getting married.

Not someday. Not eventually. Not in some distant future he could pretend would never arrive.

Soon. To someone else.

His first thought was not fair.

His second was worse. That should have been me. The thought cut so deeply that he closed his eyes, guilt tightening through his chest. He had no right to think that. No right to feel wounded by a happiness he had never tried to claim. He had seen MC first. He had been pleased with that vision. Quietly pleased, even. It had been soft, predictable, comforting. A life that made sense. A life everyone expected of him. And then came the second vision. You. Snow. A townhouse wrapped in winter light. A silver ring on your hand.

Children laughing inside a home that had felt warmer than anything he had ever allowed himself to want. He had stood beneath the arch afterwards, stunned and silent, while you smiled like someone gently closing a door.

Now that door had a date. ...

On the day of the wedding, Zayne arrived with MC beside him.

She looked pleased. Softly satisfied. Her hand rested in the crook of his arm, her smile gentle enough for anyone watching, but Zayne knew the slight lift at the corner of her mouth. She had always been good at looking kind while claiming victory. “You’re quiet,” she murmured.

“I’m thinking.” “About her?”

Zayne did not answer quickly enough. MC’s fingers tightened on his sleeve. “It’s a beautiful day for her,” she said, voice sweet. “She found someone who chose her properly.” The words were soft.

The cut was not. ...

Then the music began.

You appeared at the end of the aisle, and Zayne forgot how to breathe. You looked older than the girl who had once stood beside him beneath the Vision Arch. Not by much, but enough for time to have softened you into yourself. There was confidence in your shoulders now. Peace in your smile. The shy ache that used to hide behind your eyes had been replaced by something warm and settled.

He had never seen you like this.

Radiant.

Steady.

Walking towards your soon-to-husband Valko He was tall, bright-eyed, and almost offensively alive. His smile broke across his face before he could restrain it, too honest, too boyish, too full of joy. Time had not sharpened him. It had warmed him. There were faint laugh lines near his eyes, the kind earned by years of grinning at things no one else found funny. His once-wild energy had matured into something steadier, but not tamer. ... When you reached him, Valko whispered something that made you laugh.

Something in Zayne folded in on itself. He remembered the vision. His older self standing outside that townhouse, dark hair touched with subtle silver. Your eyes softened by years. Children calling him Dad and Daddy. Your hand reaching for his as snow fell around you both. But the ring on your finger now was not his.

The man holding your hand was not him.

Zayne made himself watch. He watched you say your vows. Watched Valko laugh softly when your voice trembled. Watched him lift your hand and kiss your knuckles with a tenderness Zayne had once been too afraid to name. Now he watched Valko slide a silver band onto your finger.

Zayne’s own hand curled at his side. There it was again. The phantom weight. Cold. Cruel. Impossible. ...

He smiled when you looked at him after the ceremony. He congratulated you. His voice was even. His posture perfect. “I’m happy for you,” he said. And he meant it.

That was the worst part.

He was happy for you.

He was also grieving.

Months later, Greyson mentioned it first.

“You heard? She’s expecting.” Zayne’s pen stopped moving. ...

For one irrational second, the future returned in pieces.

Snow falling outside a townhouse. Your hand cradling a baby.

A small boy running past the glass door. A little girl laughing, calling him Daddy.

His children.

No. Not his. Never his. ...

Greyson’s voice softened. “Doctor Zayne?”

Zayne looked down at the chart and realised he had written the same word twice.

“I’m fine,” he said.

He was not. ...

That night, alone in his apartment, he sat at the edge of his bed and pressed his thumb against his bare ring finger until the skin reddened. A part of him died quietly there. Not dramatically. Not all at once.

Just a small, private death. The kind no monitor could detect.

Then he buried it. ...

When your daughter was born, her name was Lumi. Valko sent a photo in the group chat, his grin bright and helpless as he held the tiny newborn against his chest. You were beside him in the hospital bed, exhausted and glowing, your fingers curled around Valko’s wrist. Zayne stared at the picture longer than he should have.

Lumi had your softness around the eyes and Valko’s bright, mischievous gaze. She was beautiful.

She was not his. Another small, waiting part of him died once again.

Years later, you invited him and MC for a holiday gathering.

Your home was warm. Too warm. Zayne arrived with MC at his side, carrying a carefully wrapped gift for Lumi and your younger son, Hunter. Snow fell lightly outside, softening the modern townhouse framed by climbing ivy. There were garlands across the doorway, tiny shoes by the entrance, children’s drawings on the wall. Valko opened the door with a baby balanced against his hip, grinning like mischief had learned how to wear a wedding ring. ... “Doctor Zayne! Come in before she accuses me of scaring away guests again.” You appeared behind him, laughing. And for one impossible second, Zayne forgot how to breathe. It was the vision. Not exactly. Worse. ... The townhouse. The winter light. The sound of children running through the hall. A little boy, Hunter, darted past him, chasing a giggling girl, Lumi, with soft curls. A baby, Milo, reached for Valko’s collar, babbling happily as Valkokissed his tiny fingers. “Daddy, she took my snowman biscuit!” Hunter complied adorably. “Because you left it unattended, rookie mistake,” Valko said solemnly. You swatted his arm. “Do not teach our children theft strategy.” “But look how advanced they are.” The children laughed. Zayne smiled. He smiled because he had to. He smiled while the life he had once glimpsed unfolded in front of him with another man standing in his place. The ring on your finger caught the light when you reached for Valko’s hand. Zayne stopped breathing. ... The vision overlaid itself onto the present.

In his memory, it had been him standing there. His hand reaching for yours. His children calling for him. His ring beside yours in the morning light. But reality was colder. Valko reached for you instead.

You passed him a mug, and he bent to kiss your temple without thinking, as naturally as breathing. You smiled. That smile. Older now. Softer. Full of years shared and trusted. Zayne felt the phantom pressure of a ring around his bare finger. MC said something beside him, but he did not hear it. All he could hear was Lumi calling, “Papa, help me hide!” Valko laughed and knelt, letting both children tumble into his arms. ... Zayne watched from across the room. A spectator. A guest.

A family friend. The life he had seen was happening in front of him, almost detail for detail. Only he had been removed from it.

Later, after the gathering ended, Zayne returned home alone. MC had gone ahead after an argument too quiet for anyone else to notice. He took off his coat. Hung it neatly. Washed his hands.

Then stood in the silence of his house until the restraint finally cracked. His hand pressed over his mouth. His shoulders shook once. Then again. No sound came out. ... Zayne had spent his life learning how to steady his pulse, how to control panic, how to keep his hands calm while holding another person’s heart. But there, alone in the dark, he could not control his own. Because the life he had searched for without ever admitting it had existed. It had been real. It had simply belonged to Valko. And he had been too much of a coward to reach for it when it still had his name.

Xavier learned about your wedding from Tara.

She said it gently, as if softness could make the words less cruel. “You got the invitation too, right?” He looked down at the card in his hand. Your name.

With someone else’s name.

A date. A promise.

“Yes,” Xavier said. His voice was quiet. ...

He attended with MC beside him, both of them dressed in pale colours beneath a canopy of flowers and light. MC talked easily with the other guests, glowing in that effortless way people always noticed.

Xavier noticed you. You were smiling before the ceremony even began, nervous and radiant, fingers curled around your bouquet.

Valko was waiting for you with a nervous grin he tried and failed to hide. He shifted on his feet, then laughed at himself when the officiant gave him a look. The guests chuckled. You laughed too. ...

Xavier’s chest tightened.

He remembered a different garden. Sunlight.

A little girl with platinum-blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes clutching his sleeve.

A baby boy with your soft curls and his eyes clapping under a warm sky.

Aurora and Lucien.

Names gifted by a vision and stolen by reality.

When Valko took your hands, Xavier felt the stars shift out of reach.

MC leaned closer. “It’s sweet, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Xavier said softly.

And it was.

That was the cruelest part.

It was sweet. ...

Valko loved you openly, with no hesitation, no ancient sorrow held between his teeth, no endless waiting dressed up as patience. His joy was obvious. Almost boyish. Almost annoying.

Xavier envied him for it.

He envied the courage of being obvious.

When you said your vows, your voice trembled.

Valko whispered something that made you laugh through the tears.

The crowd softened.

Xavier smiled too.

When the officiant declared you married, the room erupted.

Xavier clapped with everyone else.

His palms felt numb. ...

Later, when you hugged him, you whispered, “I’m glad you came.”

He smiled gently.

“I am too.”

It was not a lie.

That made it worse, as inside, something dimmed.

When he heard you were expecting your first child, he was on a late patrol.

Jeremiah mentioned it while checking equipment.

“Did you hear? She and Valko are having a baby.”

Xavier looked up.

For one foolish heartbeat, he saw the baby from the vision.

Lucien.

Tiny hands. His eyes. Your curls.

Then reality returned. ...

“Oh,” he said. “That’s good.”

Jeremiah watched him carefully.

Xavier adjusted his gloves.

“That’s really good.”

Later in the day, he went and visited you and Valko. He congratulated you with the same soft sincerity he always carried. He brought carefully chosen gifts, star-patterned blankets, and small glowing mobiles for the nursery.

Valko teased him mercilessly.

“Trying to make my baby a sky nerd before birth?”

Xavier chuckled.

“Consider it an early education.”

You laughed.

The sound warmed the room.

Then hollowed him afterwards. ... He completed the patrol with perfect focus. He returned his reports on time. He even answered MC’s messages with his usual gentleness.

Then, much later, he sat alone beneath the pale glow of his room and stared at his hands.

He wondered if there was a version of himself somewhere who had not hesitated.

A version who had said your name before you let go.

A version whose child had been real.

Because once, in another possible life, that nursery might have been his to prepare.

When your daughter Lumi was born, Xavier visited with a gift wrapped in silver paper. Valko opened the door looking sleepless, delighted, and utterly ruined in the way new fathers often were.

“She’s tiny,” Valko whispered, as if announcing a miracle.

You were asleep when Xavier first saw the baby.

Lumi rested against Valko’s chest, one tiny fist curled into his shirt.

Valko looked down at her with such fierce, melting warmth that Xavier had to look away.

That was the second death.

Not jealousy alone.

The realisation that Valko had become the kind of father Xavier had only seen in a vision.

Years later, he visited your home during a summer evening celebration. Xavier almost did not go.

MC insisted.

“You’ve been distant enough,” she said lightly, though there was an edge beneath it.

So he went. ... The moment he stepped into your garden, his breath caught.

The garden was lit with tiny lanterns.

Children ran barefoot across the grass, chasing floating lights Valko had rigged purely to make them squeal. ... Lumi ran across the grass, pointing at the early evening sky. 

“Daddy, look! The stars are waking up!”

Xavier froze.

The world shifted beneath him.

Not with Evol.

Not with danger.

With memory.

That line.

That exact breathless joy.

Only this time, she was not holding his sleeve.

She was tugging Valko’s hand. ...

Valko scooped her up dramatically. “Stars? Already? Without my permission?”

She giggled and pressed both hands to his cheeks.

You stood nearby with your younger child, Milo, on your hip, smiling at them as your wedding ring glimmered beneath the garden lights.

Xavier watched from the edge of the patio.

A spectator.

A distant star.

The future had not disappeared.

It had simply moved beyond him.

That night, after he and MC returned home, he stood alone by the window.

The city lights blurred.

He touched his bare ring finger.

For years, he had told himself the vision was only a possibility. Something kind. Something impossible.

But the universe had not lied.

It had shown him happiness.

Then waited until he was too late to recognise it. ...

His grief arrived quietly, like moonlight through glass.

No sound.

No collapse.

He did not cry loudly. ...

He simply lowered himself to the floor, back against the wall, and covered his eyes with one hand.

The grief overcame him quietly.

Like nightfall.

He had spent lifetimes waiting for fate.

But fate had opened one door he had been too afraid to walk through.

Now he could only watch its light from outside.

Rafayel almost did not attend the wedding.

Not because he did not want to see you happy.

That was the problem.

He wanted to see you happy too much.

MC chose his suit, fussing over the collar with a smile.

“You look like you’re going to your own funeral,” she teased.

Rafayel laughed.

It sounded convincing.

“It’s a wedding. Same thing, depending on the couple.” ... Rafayel hated how beautiful your wedding was.

That was the first thought he had, and it made him feel monstrous.

The colours were perfect.

Soft ivory. Warm gold. Hints of sea-glass blue in the decorations. Light spilled through the venue like paint diluted with sunlight.

It was the kind of scene he would have wanted to capture.

If it had not been killing him.

MC stood beside him, commenting on the floral arrangement with a pleased smile.

Rafayel barely heard her.

He was watching Valko.

The man looked infuriatingly alive. Restless, playful, grinning at guests one second and blinking too quickly the next as if trying not to cry before you even reached him. 

But when he saw you, the joke dissolved.

You were beautiful in a way that made colour feel insufficient.

Valko stood at the altar, rocking slightly on his heels, trying and failing to look composed. The moment you appeared, his face changed completely.

Not into awe.

Into recognition.

As if some restless part of him had finally found where it belonged.

Rafayel hated how much he understood that expression. ... Rafayel’s hand tightened around his programme.

He remembered another studio.

A future painted in warmth.

A little girl with purple hair holding up a sketchbook.

A toddler with paint on his fingers.

Serina and Arien.

Your wedding band catching the afternoon glow while you laughed with a brush tucked behind your ear.

That vision had felt like art made flesh.

Now he watched you walk towards a different canvas. ...

During the vows, Valko’s voice broke halfway through a joke.

You cried.

He cried worse.

The guests laughed softly.

Rafayel smiled with them, one hand tucked into his pocket so no one would see his fingers trembling. ...

At the reception, you asked him to take a photo with you.

“Come on, Raf,” you said warmly. “You’re not escaping.”

He laughed because he knew how to perform happiness.

“Me? Escape attention? Never.”

Valko slipped an arm around your waist for the photo. You leaned into him with ease.

The camera flashed.

Rafayel smiled.

A masterpiece of a lie.

When news of your pregnancy reached him, he was in his studio.

Thomas said it casually, flipping through exhibition schedules.

“By the way, she and Valko are expecting. You should send something nice.”

Rafayel’s brush fell from his hand.

A smear of blue ruined the canvas.

Thomas stopped talking.

Rafayel stared at the colour bleeding across the half-finished painting.

Blue like the sky in the vision.

Blue like the shadows in a home that had never been his.

“I will,” he said after a moment. “Of course I will.”

He sent a custom mobile for the nursery, all soft shapes and tiny painted stars. ...

You sent him a picture of Valko trying to hang it, standing on a chair while you scolded him for nearly falling.

Rafayel laughed at the photo.

Then he sat on the studio floor and cried so quietly even the canvas seemed to look away.

When Lumi was born, you sent him a picture of her.

Her tiny hand wrapped around Valko’s finger. ...

Rafayel stared at the image until the screen dimmed.

Then he opened a blank canvas.

For three hours, he painted nothing.

Years later, you commissioned him for a family portrait.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you said gently.

He smiled too quickly.

“Comfortable? Please. I was born for this level of artistic suffering.”

You laughed.

Valko leaned into frame behind you. “Should I wear something dramatic? Maybe a cape?”

“No,” you said immediately.

“Cruel woman.” ...

Rafayel watched you both bicker with a kind of tenderness that made his ribs ache.

When you arrived at his studio with Valko and the children, Rafayel felt the world tilt.

The same golden light poured through the windows.

The same scent of paint and lavender settled in the air.

Lumi ran in first, clutching a sketchbook almost too big for her small hands.

“Uncle Raf! I drew you!” ...

His brush slipped.

For one second, he was back in the vision.

Papa, I drew you.

That was what the child in the vision had said.

Only now the child was yours and Valko’s.

Not his.

Only the word had changed.

Not Papa.

Uncle.

The smallest alteration.

The cruelest one.

He crouched and accepted the drawing with a flourish.

“A masterpiece. I’m clearly outmatched.”

The child beamed.

Hunter toddled behind her, fingers already smudged with marker despite your best efforts. Valko followed with a laugh, older now, broader in presence, softer in expression. Time had touched him beautifully. His grin still carried mischief, but fatherhood had warmed it into something protective. A few silver strands threaded through his hair, and his eyes held the tired brightness of a man who had spent years being loved loudly and loving louder in return.

Valko laughed as he stood beside you, holding  Milo against his chest while you adjusted the baby’s collar, your wedding ring flashing under the studio lights. ...

Rafayel could barely breathe.

Rafayel looked at the four of you.

His throat tightened.

The composition was perfect.

That made him want to ruin it.

The vision returned with brutal clarity.

The studio walls filled with layered canvases. Your laughter across the room. Children’s hands covered in paint. His own older reflection, softened by time, watching a life he had never imagined he could deserve.

Except now he was behind the easel.

Watching.

Not living. ...

Valko crouched beside Lumi and whispered, “Make sure Uncle Raf gets my good side.”

Lumi giggled. “Daddy, you don’t have one.”

You laughed so hard you leaned against Valko’s shoulder.

Rafayel smiled.

Painted.

Captured the light.

Captured the love.

Captured the exact life the universe had once shown him, now rearranged around another man.

When the portrait was finished weeks later, you cried when you saw it.

Valko wrapped an arm around you and kissed your hair.

Rafayel watched his own hands tremble.

That night, after everyone left, he covered the portrait with a sheet and sat in the darkened studio.

Then the grief came.

Not elegantly.

Not poetically. ...

It came ugly and breathless, cracking through his chest until he bent over with his hands in his hair.

He had always believed beauty was something to chase.

But he had been given beauty once.

A living, breathing future.

And he had stood still until someone braver painted himself into it.

Sylus read the wedding invitation once.

Then twice.

Then set it on his desk like it had personally offended him.

Luke found it later.

“Oh,” he said.

Kieran peered over his shoulder. “Oh.”

Sylus looked up. ...

“Finish that thought and I’ll make sure both of you regret developing language.”

Neither twin said anything.

For once.

Sylus attended your wedding like a man attending a negotiation.

Calm.

Composed.

Untouchable.

At least, that was the performance. ...

He attended because not attending would have been cowardice, and Sylus had never tolerated cowardice in himself.

You looked surprised to see him.

That almost made him laugh.

As if he would miss the execution. ...

MC stood beside him, dressed beautifully, her smile sharp enough to suggest she noticed more than she said.

“You’re quiet,” she observed.

“Weddings are dull,” Sylus replied.

“They’re romantic.”

“That explains it.”

MC laughed, but Sylus did not.

His eyes were on Valko.  ...

Valko was everything Sylus should have found irritating. Too bright. Too expressive. Too quick with his grin. The kind of man who turned solemn moments into something warm simply by refusing to let joy behave.

And yet, when Valko saw you, all that playfulness narrowed into devotion.

Pure.

Unhidden.

Dangerous in its honesty. His grin softened. His shoulders dropped. His entire expression opened. Sylus hated him then.

Not because Valko was cruel.

Because he was not.

Because the man looked at you with the exact warmth Sylus had once seen in himself inside the vision. ...

A courtyard of glass and steel.

A little girl with crimson eyes and silver hair.

A small boy toddling after her.

Raven and Ash.

Your ring catching sunlight as you held tea.

His hand finding yours with years of trust between you.

Sylus flexed his bare fingers.

Nothing.

No ring.

No future. ...

Sylus watched him take your hand.

Watched you relax.

Watched you trust him.

That was the first cut.

The vows were the second. At the altar, Valko stumbled over one line of his vows.

You laughed softly.

He groaned, then pressed his forehead against your hand.

“Sorry, sorry. I had this planned. You’re just very distracting.”

The guests laughed.

You smiled at him as if he hung the moon badly but tried his best.

The ring was the third. ...

He had seen that same ring before.

In another life. Another courtyard. Another sunlight.

On your hand.

Beside his.

When Valko kissed you, the room cheered.

Sylus smiled.

Slow. Polished. Perfect.

Inside, something went very still as its coldness settle behind his ribs.

He could have given you the world.

Valko had given you sincerity.

Somehow, that was worse.

When he heard about the pregnancy, Luke and Kieran were arguing in the hallway about what gift to send.

“Boss, do babies like drones?”

“No,” Kieran said. “Babies like soft things.”

“Drones can be soft.”

Sylus stopped walking.

“What baby?”

Both twins froze.

Luke winced. “You didn’t hear?” ...

No.

He had not.

You were pregnant.

Sylus gave no reaction.

“Send something expensive,” he said.

Then he walked into his office, closed the door, and stood there with one hand braced against the desk.

The phantom ring returned.

Smooth. Cool. Cruel.  ...

When his extravagant gift was sent.

It ended up too extravagant.

You called him immediately.

“Sylus, this is too much.”

“For a child? Hardly.”

“It’s a baby, not a royal heir.”

“Debatable.”

Valko’s voice called from the background, “Tell him I accept tribute on behalf of the tiny ruler.”

You laughed.

Sylus closed his eyes.

That laugh stayed with him for the rest of the night. ...

When Lumi was born, Valko sent a video.

He was holding her against his chest, whispering nonsense while she slept. His eyes were red with exhaustion, but his smile was unbearable.

“Look at her,” Valko whispered in the video. “She’s perfect. She’s so perfect.”

You laughed weakly from somewhere off-camera. “You’ve said that twenty times.”

“I’ll say it twenty more.” ...

Sylus closed the video.

Then opened it again.

Then hated himself for watching until the end.

Years later, you brought your family to an Onychinus event. It was formal enough to require appearances, informal enough for children to sneak biscuits from silver trays.

Your daughter spotted Mephisto first.

Her eyes widened.

“Daddy, bird!”

Valko crouched beside her. “That, my darling chaos gremlin, is a very dramatic bird.”

Mephisto cawed, offended.

Sylus should have laughed.

He almost did. ...

Then your son toddled after the crow, clapping.

“Win, win!”

The words hit like a blade.

Raven and Ash.

The courtyard.

The glass canopy.

A little girl with mischief in her eyes.

A toddler echoing laughter.

Only now, they were not his children.

They were Valko’s.

And you stood in the centre of it all, wearing a ring Sylus had once felt against his own hand in a future that had dared to feel real.

Valko looked at you over the children’s heads.

You smiled back.

No hesitation.

No fear.

No guarded distance. ...

Sylus understood then.

You had not settled.

You had chosen.

And worse, you had chosen well.

That night, long after the guests left, Sylus remained alone in his office.

The city glowed beneath him.

Power. Wealth. Influence.

All of it at his feet.

None of it enough.

He flexed his left hand.

The phantom ring returned. ...

This time, he did not curse.

Instead, he laughed.

Low. Bitter. Broken.

It turned into something else before he could stop it.

His head dropped back against the seat, eyes closed, breath uneven.

For once, there was no audience.

No twins.

No MC.

No empire of shadows to command. ...

Only him, alone with the truth.

Because he could not blame Valko.

Could not blame you.

Could not even blame fate. ...

He had seen happiness once and treated it like a threat.

Now it belonged to a man brave enough to make a fool of himself just to make you laugh.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, silence swallowing the room.

For the first time in years, control brought him no comfort.

Caleb kept your wedding invitation tucked inside his desk drawer for three days before replying.

He told himself it was because of scheduling.

Fleet duties.

Travel clearance.

Mission reports.

Anything but the truth.

...

When the day finally came, Skyhaven's skies were impossibly clear.

The ceremony overlooked the upper terraces, where clouds drifted lazily beneath floating platforms and sunlight washed the glass railings in pale gold.

Beautiful.

Of course it was.

You deserved beautiful.

MC stood beside him, quietly commenting on the decorations while guests filtered into their seats.

Caleb heard none of it.

His eyes stayed fixed on the altar.

On the man waiting there.

Valko.

Valko shifted his weight from one foot to the other every few seconds, running a nervous hand through his hair before immediately regretting it.

His tie sat slightly crooked.

He straightened it.

Then crooked it again.

Caleb almost smiled.

Then he watched Valko’s hands.

They were shaking.

Not from fear.

From anticipation.

From excitement.

From loving someone enough that even happiness became overwhelming. ...

The music began.

Everyone stood.

Then...

There you were.

Caleb had seen you in uniforms.

Covered in grease while repairing equipment.

Half asleep after long shifts.

Laughing over burnt coffee.

Smiling despite exhaustion.

He had never seen you like this.

Radiant.

Peaceful.

Walking towards someone who looked at you like you'd hung every star in the sky.

Valko’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

He laughed once under his breath, embarrassed by himself.

Then quietly wiped them away before you reached him.

When you finally stood before him, he whispered something only you could hear.

You burst into soft laughter.

The tension melted from both of you instantly. ...

Caleb looked away.

His chest hurt.

Not because the moment was grand.

Because it wasn't.

It was ordinary.

Comfortable.

The sort of quiet happiness built over years instead of destiny.

...

An open-air deck.

A pale-blue sky.

Children laughing somewhere nearby.

A silver ring catching the afternoon light.

Your hand reaching for his.

Skie.

Orion.

Lyra.

The names echoed through his memory.

Then reality pulled him back.

The officiant smiled.

"You may kiss your bride."

Valko stepped forward.

You met him halfway.

The applause drowned out everything else.

Caleb clapped too.

His hands felt strangely heavy.

Months later, Gideon found him in their usual coffee shop.

The same one overlooking Skyhaven where, years ago, he'd laughed and convinced Caleb to try the Compatibility Vision with you.

The same table.

The same window.

The same city.

Only neither of them were the same people anymore.

Gideon stirred his coffee absentmindedly.

"She called."

Caleb looked up.

"She's pregnant."

Silence.

The words settled between them like snowfall. ...

Gideon waited.

"Say something."

Caleb looked out the window.

The floating transports drifted lazily between the towers.

People hurried through their ordinary mornings.

Life continued.

"What is there to say?"

His voice sounded almost detached.

"...Congratulations."

That was what there was to say.

So that was what he said. ...

When Lumi was born, he visited.

MC had insisted they bring a gift.

A soft hand-knitted blanket.

Practical.

Warm.

The door opened before he knocked twice.

Valko stood there looking utterly exhausted.

Dark circles beneath his eyes.

Hair a complete mess.

Shirt buttoned incorrectly.

And smiling so brightly it almost hurt to look at him.

"Colonel!"

He beamed.

"Come witness my greatest mission failure."

Caleb blinked.

"...Failure?"

"I genuinely believed I was prepared."

He leaned conspiratorially closer.

"I was catastrophically wrong."

From somewhere inside the house, you laughed.

"You've been saying that for three days."

"Because I've been wrong for three days!" ...

You appeared in the living room, the baby sleeping peacefully against your chest.

Everything about you looked softer.

The way you smiled.

The way you held your child.

The way your husband, Valko, instinctively crossed the room the second he noticed the blanket slipping from your shoulder.

He tucked it back into place without interrupting the conversation.

Without thinking.

Without asking.

Just...

because he'd noticed.

Then the baby stirred.

Before you could even adjust your hold, he was already there.

"I've got her."

His voice dropped automatically.

Gentler.

Quieter.

Practised.

He lifted his daughter with impossible care, resting her against his shoulder.

She settled almost immediately.

"There we go, little moon..." ...

Caleb watched the entire exchange without speaking.

There was no performance.

No attempt to impress anyone.

This was simply who Valko had become.

A husband.

A father.

The life Caleb had once watched himself living.

Only someone else had grown into it.

When he finally left that afternoon, he sat inside his car for nearly twenty minutes.

He never started the engine.

Years passed.

The invitation this time was for the holidays.

Everyone was coming.

Friends.

Colleagues.

Family.

When Caleb stepped onto the upper terrace, his heart stopped.

Pale-blue sky.

Glass railings.

Open air.

Sunlight.

He knew this place.

Not exactly.

But enough. ...

The vision returned before anyone even spoke.

Then—

"Daddy!"

Lumi sprinted across the terrace.

Milo, her younger brother, chased after her.

"We're faster this time!"

Tiny footsteps followed behind them.

Kendra, just barely a toddler, clung to your leg, giggling between half-formed words. ...

Caleb couldn't breathe.

Not because the children looked like the ones from the vision.

They didn't.

Not really.

But...

The rhythm was identical.

The feeling.

The laughter.

The life.

His eyes found their father.

Valko. ... Time had changed him gently.

The restless young man Caleb remembered from the wedding had become steadier now.

His hair had grown slightly longer, the first silver strands beginning to appear near his temples.

There were faint lines around his eyes.

The kind earned through laughter instead of hardship.

His smile was different too.

Still playful.

Still bright.

But grounded by years of bedtime stories, scraped knees, midnight fevers, school concerts, and tiny hands reaching for his without hesitation.

He caught Lumi before she collided with him.

"Got you."

She laughed so hard she nearly hiccupped.

"Again!"

"You're trying to wear your old man out."

"You said you have superpowers!"

"I may have exaggerated."

Hunter tugged on his sleeve.

"Daddy... up."

Without missing a beat, Valko lifted him too. ...

You appeared moments later wearing his oversized coat.

Your wedding ring caught the winter sunlight.

"You know," you teased, "they're going to expect aeroplane rides every single time."

"They already do."

"And whose fault is that?"

He looked at you.

Grinned.

"Yours."

You rolled your eyes.

Then, without thinking...

...you reached for his hand.

He met yours automatically.

Neither of you looked down.

Neither of you had to.

Years had taught your hands where to find each other. ...

Caleb felt the world tilt.

In the vision...

it had been his hand.

His coat.

His children.

His future.

Now he stood ten metres away.

Watching Valko live it.

Not as the husband.

Not as the father.

Not even as someone still waiting.

Just...

Uncle Caleb.

The title came moments later.

The little girl waved enthusiastically.

"Uncle Caleb! Come play!"

He smiled.

The lie came easily now.

"I'll be right there."

He stayed until evening.

Helped clean up.

Carried boxes.

Played with the children.

Congratulated you both.

Smiled for photographs.

Then he left. ...

His destination wasn't home.

It was the coffee shop.

The same coffee shop.

The same window.

The same seat Gideon had occupied years ago.

Caleb ordered a coffee.

He never touched it. ...

Outside, Skyhaven shimmered beneath the evening lights.

He remembered Gideon's laugh.

"What harm could one little vision do?"

Caleb had thought the phenomenon showed people what might happen.

He understood now.

It had shown him exactly what happiness looked like.

Just not who it would belong to.

The laughter had been real.

The children had been real.

The home had been real.

The love had been real.

Only his place within it had quietly disappeared.

For a man who had spent his life mastering gravity...

...he had never understood what it meant to truly fall. ...

His elbows rested on the table.

His clasped hands touched his forehead.

For the first time since that second vision...

Caleb stopped fighting it.

No soldiers.

No missions.

No MC.

No Gideon.

No one waiting for him to be strong.

Just a man mourning the family he had once held for a few fleeting moments beneath an impossible sky.

And for one quiet night...

He truly let himself grieve.

By the time each of them understood what they had lost, Non-MC was no longer waiting at the edge of their lives.

She was loved.

Chosen.

Held.

Valko had become the husband they had once seen themselves becoming, playful where they had been guarded, brave where they had hesitated, warm where they had kept their distance.

He did not inherit their future.

He built his own with her.

And that was what made it hurt the most.

Because the life they had once glimpsed had not been impossible.

It had only required courage.

By the time they found theirs, she had already given her heart to someone who had never made her wonder if she was worth choosing.