Twenty minutes later, we were seated at the coffee shop. Zayne's drink remained untouched while mine was nearly empty from taking nervous sips.
He glanced at my cup. "You drank all that already?"
I shrugged. "Just needed something to do with my hands."
A pause settled between us, one neither of us tried to fill immediately. The clinking of mugs and soft music did enough talking for a while.
"I owe you an explanation," he finally said.
I leaned back a little, giving him space.
He glanced out the window for a moment before turning back to me. "It's a family issue. My grandfather built everything we have. He made his decision clear—get married before thirty or lose everything."
I blinked. "That's... intense."
He shrugged like he'd heard it too many times to be fazed anymore. "They're old-fashioned like that. Especially my grandmother. It's part tradition, part control. I've avoided it as long as I could."
"But you're… you. I'm sure there are plenty lining up for the job." I said with a small chuckle.
"None that interest me," he replied.
I looked down at my empty cup, regretting every sip I'd taken. Of course I'd finish it before this conversation.
"Should we order another one?" he asked.
I shook my head lightly. "No need for that... thank you." I lied.
"Really?" he asked, raising a brow. "Because I planned on ordering a slice of cake. To go with the drink."
"Ohh." I tilted my head. "Well, since you're wondering as well, I guess I'll do the same. What cake are you getting?"
"Uh… whatever you're having."
We called the waiter and I ordered, "A strawberry cake. Extra cream."
I caught a slight reaction from him at the "extra cream" part, but I brushed it off.
The cake came a few minutes later. I took a sip of the new drink they brought me, already feeling lighter. Maybe it was the sugar.
"With the contract signed," I said, "what's next… for me to fulfill my end of the deal?"
"We'll have to sign the marriage certificates and register the marriage," he said. "But no need to worry, once the one year is up, we'll file for divorce."
I nodded. "Okay."
"As per the contract," he continued, "we'll act married in public, or when needed. We'll have to live together. Separate rooms, of course. But still… under the same roof."
My stomach turned a little. "And… the kids? I know this wasn't in the agreement, but I can't bear living away from them and—"
"They can come too," he said quickly. "I'd never separate you from them."
Something softened inside me. Even if we were talking logistics, I could tell he wasn't just talking about our living arrangements. In a way, that eased the fear that had been brewing in my heart a little.
I studied him for a moment. "Sorry to ask this, but… wouldn't your family just know the marriage is fake?"
He finally sipped his coffee. "They will. But that won't affect me. My only obligation is to get married before thirty and stay married for a year minimum. Fake or not."
He stirred the coffee absentmindedly.
"There'll be events too. Fundraisers, galas, a few family dinners. Just enough to show up together, nothing overwhelming."
That sounded... overwhelming. "You mean... I'll have to go to those?"
"Only if you're comfortable," he said quickly. "We can ease into it. I'll handle most of the formal stuff."
I stared at the cake for a second too long."I've never been good with that kind of crowd. All the attention, the questions... I don't exactly scream 'trophy wife.'"
Zayne gave a short laugh. "You don't have to. You just have to be yourself."
I wasn't sure what that meant anymore, but I nodded anyway."Right. Just be myself at a billionaire gala. No pressure."
"You'll be fine," he said, not in the way people say it to fill silence, but like he actually believed it. "And if it ever feels like too much, you just let me know. We'll make it work."
We sat in silence for a moment. I took another bite of cake, letting the sweetness distract me. My mind wandered to how intense it must have been to be brought up in such a family that gave off strong succession vibes.
After a while, I put my fork down. "The certificate. When are we signing it?"
"When Emily is out of the hospital and things have settled down," he said. "I wouldn't want to add more pressure."
"Thank you," I said, looking up at him. "For being accommodating."
I wanted to say something else but I couldn't bring myself to. I hesitated and he noticed.
"You can talk," he said. "I don't bite."
I gave a nervous chuckle. "Right…" I cleared my throat. "Um, about the kids… I just… I think…"
"I'd like to get to know them," he said, cutting in gently. "That is, if you don't mind."
I blinked. Then smiled. "Of course. You're their—" I paused. "I mean, you don't need to ask."
I looked away, unsure why saying it to his face felt heavier than it should've. Maybe because once I did, it would all become too real.
"What are they like?" he asked after a moment. "Zia and Zeal."
I smiled, a little caught off guard. "You really want to know?"
He nodded. "I'd like to know everything."
I leaned back. "Zia's the louder one. Always talking, always planning something. She's also the more dramatic twin. The one who convinces Zeal to sneak extra snacks or fake sleep so they don't have to brush their teeth."
He grinned. "She sounds dangerous."
"She is," I laughed softly. "But she's also thoughtful. She's the first to notice when I'm tired or sad. She takes after me." I paused.
"Zeal's quieter, but not shy. He just watches more. He's sweet. Always careful. Always asking if something's okay before he does it. He's the bookworm of the two. Always trying to learn new things... things that are probably too advanced for a three-year-old." I chuckled, remembering something funny.
"What is it?" Zayne asked, curious about why I suddenly paused to laugh.
"Nothing... It's just a silly thing I remembered." I was about to keep talking when I realized these are stories he'd missed out on. And although it wasn't my fault, part of me felt sorry. So I told him. "Zaybe once woke me up at three in the morning. Said he had a serious question to ask."
"What was the question?"
"He asked me, 'Mommy, what's the stock market?'" I couldn't control my laughter as I recalled staring at Zeal like he'd grown two heads that night.
"The stock market?" Zayne chuckled fondly.
"I know, right? What three-year-old asks that?" I continued through gaps of laughter, "So I'm thinking he's probably sleep talking again, so I'm trying to get him back to bed, then he says, 'I'm not sleeping. What's a stock market? Uncle Will was saying it today at dinner.' I look at him in shock, I was half asleep and wondering what explanation I was going to give him, so I just said. 'It's like a rollercoaster. It goes up and down.' "
We both burst into laughter at the story. It was the first time I'd seen Zayne laugh like he did that night. And I had to admit, part of me was happy.
"That's the most accurate definition I've heard." He said, catching his breath.
"What can I say?" I shrugged, "So that's Zeal for you. A serious boy who wants to absorb every knowledge known to mankind. I guess he takes after..." I paused, suddenly aware of what I was saying.
"Me," Zayne completed the words for me.
"Yeah... He takes after you." I smiled, trying to ignore the pained look I saw in Zayne's expression. "They're both curious, smart. Too smart sometimes. They've given you a nickname, you know."
"Yeah? Is it Dr. Hot Chocolate?"
"It is! It was Zia's idea, and Zeal just went along with it." I smiled again, softer this time. "They really like you."
"I really like them as well," he said softly, almost a whisper.
I nodded. No more words needed. We both understood.
We have to tell the kids.