CH-11

VIN’S POV

Zen and Zara were chasing her across the garden as though she were something rare and magical that had slipped into their world by accident.

The palace lawn stretched wide and immaculate beneath the pale winter sun, marble statues standing silent witness to the children’s laughter. The fountains hummed softly in the background, and the faint scent of roses drifted upward toward the balcony where I stood.

She moved like she belonged to none of it.

White fabric flowed around her legs, catching the breeze in gentle waves. The shawl wrapped around her shoulders fluttered slightly each time she turned, as though reluctant to let her go. Something small was clasped in her hand, and she guarded it with playful determination.

She let the children believe they were close.

Close enough to win.

But never quite enough.

Every time Zen stretched his arm or Zara leapt forward with a delighted shriek, she would twist away at the last second, laughter spilling from her lips — light, unrestrained, dangerously alive.

I should not have been watching.

And yet I was.

She finally slowed, breath visibly uneven now, and pressed her palm against her chest. It was an instinctive gesture — unguarded, unaware. My eyes followed without permission.

The curve of her fingers.

The steady rise beneath her touch.

The fragile proof of something beating fast and real beneath white fabric.

Something inside my own chest responded.

She sank to the grass, speaking softly to the children between breaths. They mirrored her, placing their tiny hands over their hearts as if she had invited them into a secret only they were allowed to share.

Zara leaned forward and pressed her ear against the girl’s chest.

Even from here, I understood what they were doing.

Listening.

To the proof of life.

To the evidence of something racing.

And suddenly, I was aware of my own heartbeat — heavier than it should have been.

Louder.

As though answering.

Then it happened.

Slowly — almost hesitantly — she lifted her gaze.

Not toward the sky.

Not toward the palace.

Toward me.

Her eyes did not widen in surprise.

They did not dart away in embarrassment.

They held.

Calm. Steady. Questioning.

It was not defiance.

It was not invitation.

It was recognition.

As if somewhere — in some quiet corner of existence — she had expected to find me there.

The space between us felt charged.

The wind seemed to move around her, not through her. Even the distant laughter of the children blurred at the edges, as though the world itself had softened to accommodate that singular line of sight connecting us.

I did not look away.

I could not.

Something unspoken passed between us — something fragile and unfinished.

Zara suddenly pressed a quick, affectionate kiss against her chest where her heartbeat.

The girl startled.

The reaction was immediate — a sharp intake of breath, a visible jolt through her frame — as though the innocent touch had broken more than the children’s game.

It broke the moment.

Her eyes dropped. A faint flush warmed her cheeks. She gathered the children close, burying her expression behind their small shoulders.

But even then — even while holding them — her gaze lifted again.

Tentative this time.

Searching.

I remained still.

Unmoving.

Unyielding.

She was the one who turned away.

And the instant she did, something inside me recoiled — not in anger, not in frustration — but in a quiet, unfamiliar awareness of loss.

Who is she?

The question no longer felt curious.

It felt personal.

Inside me, Nate stirred — not restless this time, not agitated.

Alert.

Attuned.

Drawn.

There was something in her stillness that unsettled me. She did not carry herself like staff. There was no cautiousness in her posture, no invisible line marking her place in the hierarchy of this palace.

She belonged in the sunlight.

And yet —

she felt like a secret.

My phone rang, abrupt and unwelcome, slicing through the fragile thread that had not yet fully formed.

I hesitated.

Just a second too long.

Then I turned away.

But as I stepped back inside, I felt it — unmistakable.

The awareness that something had shifted.

Not in the garden.

Not in the palace.

In me.

And the most unsettling part was this:

For the first time in years,

the silence inside my chest did not feel empty.

It felt… waiting.

My phone rang, slicing through the moment.

I took one last look before turning away. Nate resisted. I forced him — forced myself — back inside.

“How are you?” My best friend’s concerned voice greeted me, and a faint smile touched my lips.

“Everything’s fine.” That was enough for him to understand everything.

“He’s there?” he asked.

“Hmm,” I replied.

He sighed deeply.

“How’s everything there?” I asked, changing the subject.

“All good so far. I will call you if anything happens. By the way, are you planning to visit the office?” he asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” I replied.

“Cool. I will inform them.”

“No. I do not want any welcome-back drama. And I am not sure when I will go—today or tomorrow. So do not inform anyone,” I said while opening my closet.

I noticed how neatly everything had been arranged—clearly my sister-in-law’s work.

But when I looked closely, I realized these were not the clothes I had brought with me.

They were new.

Every shelf was filled—casual wear, formal wear, everything arranged perfectly.

I shook my head.

Brother.

Of course.

I ran my fingers over the fabrics, something uncomfortable settling beneath my ribs. Care like this always came quietly from him — unspoken, unacknowledged.

It unsettled me more than neglect ever had.

I chose cream linen trousers and a white shirt.

The weather here was cool, but after where I had been living, this felt like spring.

Yet the heaviness in my chest had not left.

I pressed my palm over my heart again.

Acidity, I told myself.

It had to be.

I swallowed an antacid and stepped out.

That same laughter drifted upward.

Descending the stairs, the pressure in my chest spiked again — sudden, uneven.

I looked up from my phone while descending the stairs.

A flash of white moved below — then disappeared before I could see her face clearly.

A part of me considered following her.

The fact that I even considered it annoyed me.

Nate growled in protest.

I ignored him too.

I touched my heart without thinking.

“Vincenzo, are you alright?”

Brother’s voice cut through everything.

He was alone in the living room, tablet in hand, but his attention was fully on me.

“I am fine. Just acidity.”

He did not look convinced.

He reached for his phone. “I will call the doctor.”

I caught his wrist.

“For acidity?”

He studied my face too carefully.

For a moment, I saw it — not authority, not control — but fear.

And something inside me softened against my will.

“I’m fine, Brother,” I repeated, quieter this time.

He exhaled slowly but did not entirely relax.

This man, who commanded rooms without raising his voice, who made impossible decisions without blinking — would crumble at the smallest threat to someone he loved.

Even when we were not close… he had protected me.

Silently.

Relentlessly.

“Tell me about the surgery,” I said.

“It can happen whenever I decide,” he replied. Then his tone shifted. “But before that, there’s something important we need to discuss.”

A hesitation flickered in his eyes.

That unsettled me more than his illness.

Before he could continue, footsteps approached.

“Good morning, Vin.”

Aunty. Mom. Sister-in-law.

I stood.

I looked back as Aunty and Mom entered, with Sister-in-law following behind.

“Good morning. I see the ladies of the house are shining like stars today,” I said warmly.

This is one of the few things I truly like about being here seeing them together, smiling.

Their happiness somehow eases something inside me.

“I don’t know about shining, but we are definitely happy—and the reason is you,” Sister-in-law said.

“Well, I’m glad to know I’m the reason behind the smiles of my favourite ladies,” I replied with a grin.

“Oh my, I never thought you could be this cheesy, Vincenzo,” Brother remarked, glancing at me before returning to his tablet.

“You underestimate me sometimes,” I shrugged.

The ladies took their seats in the living room.

“By the way, how come everyone is home today? As far as I know, it is a working day,” I asked.

“We all took the day off,” Sister-in-law replied. “Since you’re here, we wanted to spend time with you.”

As she said that, I noticed her glance briefly at Brother before looking back at me.

Her words were light.

Her glance at Brother was not.

Something tightened in my stomach.

Everyone was home.

Everyone was attentive.

Everyone was… watching.

Were they preparing me for something?

Or protecting me from it?

“Uh… thank you,” I managed.

But something felt off.

Were they hiding something?

Maybe about Brother’s health?

“Vincenzo… I wanted to talk to you about something,” Brother said.

And just like that, I was reminded of our unfinished conversation.

Suddenly, the morning no longer felt peaceful.

**