MasukGloss POV “Then stop me. Make me believe you’re mine.” His words lingered in the quiet room long after he said them. I did not answer immediately. Not because I did not want to. But because I knew belief was not something I could hand to him like a receipt, stamped and verified. Belief is something you build. Something you breathe into existence, over and over, until it becomes the only language you know. I kissed him instead. Not urgent, not frantic. Certain. And in that certainty, I hoped he felt it. Hours later, the city hums beneath us. We stand on the balcony of our apartment, the doors open behind us, curtains shifting gently with the warm evening breeze. The sky is painted in soft shades of amber and rose, fading slowly into deepening blue. The air feels different tonight. Not charged. Not watched. Just open. I rest my hands on the railing and look out over the city lights flickering on one by one. Cars move like distant streams of gold. Somewhere below, someo
Dream's POV Sunlight spills through the curtains, soft and golden, tracing the curve of his face as he sleeps beside me. I wake before him. I do not know why. Maybe my body is still running on ceremony nerves, maybe my mind refuses to accept that there is nothing left to prepare for. No vows to rehearse, no guests to greet, no system prompts waiting to interrupt the moment. Just morning. Just him. He lies on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other resting loosely across my waist as if even in sleep he needs proof that I am still here. His hair falls across his forehead, slightly messy, softer than it looked under wedding lights. The faintest crease sits between his brows, like he is dreaming too hard. I reach out before I can stop myself and brush it away. He exhales, shifting slightly but not waking. For years, I lived like a machine. Cold, logical, ruthless. I measured outcomes, calculated risks, eliminated inefficiencies. Emotions were variables to be manage
Gloss POV Laughter fills the room. It rolls outward in warm waves, light and bright, dissolving the last of the tension that had been coiled in my chest. I am still holding his hands, our rings catching the sunlight as if they are small anchors binding us to this exact second. For a moment, the world feels quiet for the first time. Not silent, not empty, just calm. The laughter softens, fades into soft murmurs and affectionate sniffles. The wind drifts through the garden, brushing against my suit, carrying the scent of flowers and sun warmed grass. I blink slowly, and the edges of everything sharpen. Dream is still in front of me. His fingers are still intertwined with mine. His eyes are still focused entirely on me, like I am the only horizon he recognizes. And beneath all of it, something else stirs. A familiar hum. Faint. Almost gone. I inhale. There it is again, softer than memory, like a whisper caught between breaths. The system. It does not appear in glowing pan
Dream's POV “And I’ll never let you go.” The words settle into my chest like something permanent. For a moment I cannot breathe. His forehead rests against mine, his hand still cupping my face, his voice trembling with the kind of honesty that strips everything else away. The garden is silent, not awkward, not tense, just reverent. Even the wind seems to pause. I open my eyes slowly. He looks wrecked, tears bright on his lashes, lips curved in the smallest, bravest smile. I lift my hand to his wrist, holding it there against my cheek. “You won’t have to,” I whisper, though the microphone catches it and carries it softly outward. A faint murmur moves through the guests, a collective exhale. The officiant clears their throat gently, grounding us back into the ceremony without breaking the spell. “It is time,” they say. Time. The word feels different today. Not a countdown, not a deadline. A beginning. I nod once. My best man steps forward quietly, placing the small velv
Gloss POV “And I’ll spend my life saving you back.” His words settle into me like sunlight through glass. For a second, I forget there are people around us. I forget the flowers, the aisle, the soft murmur of wind weaving through the open garden. I forget the chairs filled with friends, the distant sniffles, the way someone in the third row coughs quietly and tries to disguise it as a laugh. All I see is him. His hand still holds mine. His eyes are steady now, but there is a vulnerability in them I recognize, because I have seen it in quiet rooms, in long nights, in moments where the world felt too sharp and he let himself soften only with me. He finished speaking. Now it is my turn. My pulse thunders in my ears. I swallow, my throat suddenly dry despite the champagne I barely touched earlier. The officiant smiles gently, nodding toward me. I do not look at them. I look at him. This is not about the audience. This is not about the ceremony. It is about the space betwe
Dream's POV The sun rises softly through the curtains. I wake before him. For a moment I forget what day it is. The light feels gentle, ordinary, the room quiet except for the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me. Then it settles. Today. I turn my head slightly to look at him. Gloss is still asleep, one hand resting loosely near my shoulder, hair falling across his forehead in a way he will pretend not to care about later. The early light touches his face first, warms the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw. He looks peaceful. Unburdened. I stay still, not wanting to disturb the stillness. My chest feels full, not anxious like yesterday, not restless, just heavy with meaning. This is the day I stand in front of everyone and say what I have been living quietly for months. I slide carefully out of bed, moving slowly so I do not wake him. He stirs faintly but does not open his eyes. In the living room, the apartment is hushed. The city outside has not
Adrian's POV The door clicked shut, and the sound echoed through the empty warehouse like a final sentence. I let my fingers linger on the metal handle, feeling the chill of it sink into my skin. One twist, one flick of the lock, and it was done. The trap was sealed. Gloss stood in the middle of
Dream's POV It started with a headline. “CEO and Secretary Spotted Leaving Penthouse Together at Dawn.” There was even a picture, blurry, but unmistakably us. Gloss had been half-asleep, wearing my oversized hoodie, while I looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Which was true. Unfortuna
Dream's POV When you’ve seen someone die in your arms, watched the light fade from their eyes, and felt the cold settle into their skin, you don’t believe it when they come back. No matter how real it looks, your brain refuses to accept it. It tells you it’s a glitch, a dream, a cruel loop from a
Dream's POV The first email came early in the morning, before the sun had even fully risen. I was halfway through my first cup of coffee when my laptop pinged with a new message, no subject, no sender name, just a blank header with an attachment icon blinking red. I should have ignored it. I sho







