Brotherzoned

Isla’s POVClick. The rhythm of my camera shutter had become the sound of the evening. The scent of white roses, scented candles, and too much perfume filled the air. My assistant, Ava, hurried toward me through the crowd, clutching a clipboard like her life depended on it.“Okay, boss, we’ve got fifteen minutes before the bride makes her entrance,” she said, slightly breathless.“Perfect,” I replied, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I scanned the ballroom again. “Let’s make sure the secondary lights are steady near the dance floor, and I want someone stationed by the cake table.”“Yes, ma’am.” Ava grinned and jogged off.This was the biggest job I’d ever gotten, a high-profile wedding with guests whose jewelry alone could fund my entire studio. And I wouldn’t even have been here if not for Silas.Silas, my boyfriend, he’d called in a favor a month ago to land me this gig, told me I deserved to be seen. And here I was, trying to prove him right.I adjusted the lens and capt

IslaRain began to fall, heavy and unrelenting, turning the ground wet.My glasses fogged instantly, blurring the neon reflections of cars passing by. Every step I took was unsure, wobbling, my heels splashing through puddles on the uneven pavement behind the venue. My hands shook, not just from cold, but from shock, humiliation, and heartbreak. The scene inside the hall replayed endlessly behind my closed eyes: Silas’s smirk, that impossible wink, his hand in hers, the kiss. I could still feel the sting of betrayal burning under my skin.I stumbled toward the narrow alley behind the catering trucks, barely noticing the litter, cigarette butts, discarded napkins, half-empty cups scattered across the slick ground. It was lonely and quiet here.“Hey… hey there,” a voice hissed from the darkness. I froze, my chest tightening. Two men emerged from the shadows, their shapes looming, wet jackets clinging to their frames. The rain made them gleam in the light, and their slow approach sent a

ZayneI hated rain. Always had. But tonight, as I pulled into Dustfield, I didn’t even notice the slick, wet streets or the faint drizzle settling on the windshield. I parked outside the house, hands tight on the wheel. My chest was a little tighter than usual, and I hated the faint pulse of relief that rushed through me when I saw the warm lights inside. I stepped out of the car, the air cold against my skin. My shoes clicked against the wet concrete as I approached the front door. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I fumbled for it just to see Silas’s message:Silas: You left before the pictures. Can’t believe my best man ditched before the main show.I typed back immediately. Me: I hate rain. You already know that.Silas: How the fuck was I supposed to know the forecast would change?Me: Not my problem. Just fix me in there. You’ve got your wife—be happy with that.I shoved the phone back into my pocket, Sienna’s voice drifted from inside before I even rang the bell.“Zayne! About

Zayne’s POVThe push-up count stopped at thirty. I could’ve gone to fifty, maybe sixty, but my mind wasn’t keeping pace with my body.Every time I exhaled, Isla's face flashed.The glasses. The trembling hands. The soaked hair plastered to her cheeks.I dropped to my knees and sat back on my heels, breathing through the memory that wouldn’t stop.I dragged a towel over my face, forcing myself to focus. It didn’t work.I’d told myself I was going downstairs for my charger. Truth? I just wanted to see her again. Just once more, to make sure if the woman I’d pulled out of that alley was really Isla and not a figment of my guilt-soaked imagination.She was more than real.Everything Sienna and Silas had ever said about Isla had been criminally inaccurate.Silas had described her as “sweet but boring,” like she was a side note in his own story.Sienna used to laugh, calling her “my hot nerd bestie” None of them had mentioned how good looking she really was. The quiet gravity she carried, l

Isla’s POVI’ve been lying here for hours, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain hiss against the windowpane like it’s mocking me. Sienna’s laptop hums on the nightstand beside me, screen dimmed but not dark, the email from Ava still open. The folder sits there, bold and unforgiving: “Silas + Isabella – Final Wedding Shots.”My stomach twists every time I read it.His last words echo, replaying over and over until I almost forget to breathe. He wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t stoop that low. He knows what that could do to me if it ever came out. He knows how much I’ve rebuilt, how hard I’ve fought to get to this level of my life.But Silas can be unpredictable, charming one second, cruel the next. And when he feels cornered, he doesn’t lash out with his fists. He uses your history against you.I scroll through my inbox again. Ava’s message blinks at the top:“Here are the remaining shots from the reception! You just need to polish the lighting and crop the background on a few.”R