What Comes After A Wedding

Lila's P.O.V

The days that followed our wedding were wrapped in sunlight and soft mornings.

The Blackwood estate, once cold, distant, and lined with grief, began to glow with laughter.

Although our union was born from convenience, the atmosphere of the house slowly began to melt in the warmth of shared moments with Shay.

Before our marriage, Shay always carried himself like a storm waiting to break, but all that was slowly thawing, and I was helplessly drawn to the man beneath the scars.

He would kiss my forehead in the early hours of the morning, trail his fingers down my spine, and whisper things like, "You are my home," and I would blush like a teenage girl starting to learn about love.

On our honeymoon, we traveled far away from the judgmental walls of Blackwood Estate, we tasted what peace could feel like.

We stayed in a suite nestled between the coast and a field of wild roses.

At night, we would drink red wine by the fireplace, the orange glow reflecting in Shay’s deep eyes always did something to me.

We'll talk for hours, sharing stories about our past until dawn. He told me about his childhood, how violence shaped him, how he was never interested in love because love made people weak.

But now, he said, "You’ve made this weakness feel like strength to me."

We explored old towns and kissed in public like reckless teenagers.

Some nights we didn’t leave the bed, skin against skin, with our hearts racing for one another, discovering how deeply we could make each other feel with nothing but touch and trust.

It was during one of those evenings, my cheek resting against his chest, that he admitted, "I love how you make me feel."

I realized something too, after my mum's death, "I had never been seen before."

Shay was a blessing to me, he made me feel worthy of love and all the attention he showered me.

The next morning, I switched my phone on for the first time in days and immediately saw a text from Nico, my best friend and favorite menace.

"Lila, what the hell is going on? What in the six lovers is the news talking about? Girl, you’re on the freaking news! I leave for six months and THIS is what I come back to? You better call me the second you see this."

I burst into laughter.

Only Nico could summon that kind of panic and sass in the same breath.

I should’ve told him everything before the headlines did, but I didn't know how.

Nico had been my strong confidant after my mum died.

He was always there to listen to me rant about my father, stepmom, and Serena.

He had left for Seattle six months ago to escape the burnout that came with being a journalist.

The job had drained him so bad, the deadlines, politics, and stories no one wanted to tell.

I didn’t want to drag him into the mess that had become my life while he was trying to find peace.

But now, I owe him an explanation.

I called him immediately.

"LILA!" he screamed from the other end, dragging out my name like a dramatic opera singer. "Tell me this is some twisted PR stunt. 'Betrothed to Six Lovers'? Is this a reality show? Did N*****x call? Blink twice if you’re being held hostage by handsome billionaires!"

I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the phone. "Nico, breathe."

"Don’t you ‘breathe’ me, you chaotic human! Why didn’t you tell me any of this? You got married? To Shay? That hot maniac? Are you okay? Are you alive? Did he kidnap you?"

I bit my lip to hide a smile. "Actually… I’m very okay. Better than okay."

There was a pause.

"Oh no," he said slowly. "You like him."

"I think I do."

There was silence before the dramatic gasp. "Lila Voss, you’re in love, you’re actually in love!

I leave for six months, and you go from crying over family and clients to falling for a demigod who is a wordsmith?"

"Sounds about right."

"Oh my God, I need tea! I need popcorn too, because this is a freaking show! I need to fly back."

We talked for about an hour, asking me about everything, the wedding, estate, and the men in my life, Serena’s madness, and Ma Felicia’s venomic words. I gave him as much as I could without dragging him too deep into the politics of the Blackwood legacy.

Talking to Nico felt like breathing again.

I was mid-laugh, wiping tears from my eyes as Nico made yet another ridiculous impression of Serena’s "I’m better than everyone" voice, when he said, "Okay, go kiss your mysterious husband now, and promise me we’ll talk again tomorrow. I want every detail next time with no filters."

I smiled. "Promise."

The line went dead. I didn't realize we had spent that long on the phone… I turned and saw Shay standing at the doorway.

I froze.

He was leaning against the frame, shirtless, a towel slung low on his hips, with damp curls falling over his forehead, and an unreadable expression on his face.

There was something vulnerable in the way he stared at me, like he was watching a stranger.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked, shocked by his presence.

"Long enough to wonder who else besides me makes you smile like that," he said, his voice low and rough.

Surprised by his brooding jealousy, I said, "Well, that was Nico."

Shay had seen a version of me I hadn’t fully shown him yet. The me that laughed too loud when Nico was on the line.

I stood up from the bed, moving towards the window.

His brow quivered slightly. "The one who disappeared to Seattle?"

I nodded, "He needed space. Life was swallowing him whole, he had been there for me when I was at my lowest. After my mum passed."

Shay’s eyes softened.

"I’m not used to hearing you laugh like that," he said. "It was… nice."

"It felt nice," I whispered.

He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the soap on his skin. "You can still be her, you know. Here, with me."

I looked up at him, and there was something honest and raw in his gaze.

"I want you to have people in your life who make you feel that kind of joy," he said. "Even if it’s not me."

I blinked at him, surprised.

"Shay…"

He brushed a thumb across my cheek, smudging away the faint line of mascara left by tears of laughter. "I’m not jealous. I’m just… learning how to be enough for you."

My throat tightened. "You are. But I can’t pretend Nico doesn’t know parts of me that even I forgot existed."

"Then I’d like to meet the man who knows my wife that well."

I smiled. "You might regret that."

"I’m willing to risk it," he said.

He kissed me then, slow and deep. In that kiss, I felt like everything was slowly falling into place, and I was almost forgetting my encounter with Damien.