I stand before the long mirror, and for a mont, I don’t recognize myself.
The figure staring back at is draped in white silk that flows like water against my skin—soft, luminous in the dim light of the room.
The fabric falls effortlessly over my shoulders, drawing in at the waist, shaping into sothing almost... unfamiliar.
It’s expensive.
Not in the loud, ostentatious way of wealth on display, but in the quiet precision of sothing crafted with care.
Every seam. Every stitch. Every delicate pleat— speaks of ti.
Of patience. Of hands that understood beauty... and knew exactly how to create it.
I want to be beautiful tonight. Perfect. I want his eyes to linger on ... and never want to look away.
I want these two days to beco sothing we can keep.
Beautiful mories. For both of us. Sothing to hold onto... when there’s nothing left to hold.
My vision blurs, heat stinging behind my eyes. Tears gather too quickly.
I reach for a tissue, pressing it gently to the corners of my eyes before they can fall. I hold it there a mont longer—until the wetness fades, until I’m sure nothing will spill.
Then I take a slow breath. Deep. Steady. Forcing the tremor out of my chest.
I won’t cry. Not tonight. Not during the ti I have left.
I’m going to spend every mont... beautifully. With him.
I turn my attention to my silver hair, running my fingers through it, adjusting the strands until they fall the way I want. I leave it softer than usual—less controlled, less sharp.
Not the severe, polished look I used to wear as Zyren Kael, the cold Alpha CEO.
Tonight, I’m not playing any role. Tonight... I’m just . Whoever that is now.
I turn to the jewelry resting in the drawers of the vanity—neat boxes arranged in careful rows, each one holding sothing precious. Pendants. Watches. Cufflinks. Rings.
All untouched since the day I opened my eyes in this body. I never paid attention to any of it before. It was just... there. Objects in a room I happened to inhabit.
But tonight is different. Tonight, I want to be special. I want every mont with him to feel like sothing worth rembering.
My fingers trail across the glass display, skimming over diamonds and sapphires, over gold and platinum—searching.
For sothing that feels right.
Sothing that matches the white silk... the silver hair... the softness I want to show him— the softness I’ve kept hidden for so long.
My hand stills.
A pendant.
A red stone, glowing faintly even in the dim light, catching what little brightness there is and holding it close— like a heartbeat made visible.
Perfect.
I open the drawer and lift it from its velvet bed.
The stone rests in my palm—smooth, solid, with a quiet weight to it. The tal setting cool beneath my fingers.
I turn back to the mirror and fasten it around my neck, the clasp clicking softly in the silence.
The pendant settles against my skin—red and luminous—rising and falling with each breath.
It looks... right.
As if it was always ant to find . , like this. Tonight. I adjust it slightly, centering the stone over my heart.
Perfect.
My phone buzzes on the vanity, the vibration soft against the polished wood. I glance at the screen.
Deniz:I’m outside.
A soft smile touches my lips—unbidden, warm. Even now, with everything pressing down on ... he can still make smile.
I slip the phone into my pocket and step out of the wardrobe. My footsteps are silent against the plush carpet as I cross the room, quicker now, lighter— eager.
My heart beats a little faster with every step. I open the door and step into the hallway. The corridor stretches before , lined with portraits and gilded sconces. Soft light spills across the runners, warm and steady, guiding my way forward.
I move quickly, my pace quickening as I near the grand staircase. I descend— and the servants below look up.
Confusion flickers across their faces first. Then surprise. Then sothing softer. Wonder.
Their eyes linger on , taking in what I’ve beco tonight— no sharp suit, no rigid lines, no cold Alpha composure.
Just white silk, soft against my skin. Beautiful... in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be before.
"Young master," one of the older maids calls gently, worry threading through her voice, "please be careful. You might fall."
"I’m fine," I reply, not slowing, my hand gliding along the polished banister.
I step outside. The evening air wraps around —cool, soft, carrying the breath of sumr.
The sky above is a deep, endless blue, fading into violet at the edges. The first stars begin to appear, scattered like diamonds across velvet darkness.
And there he is.
Deniz stands by the car, leaning back against the door, his posture relaxed—but attentive. His suit is impeccable. Dark fabric, perfectly tailored, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his fra.
His hair is combed back neatly, exposing the sharp lines of his face, his gaze fixed on the mansion doors—waiting. He looks so handso... it makes my chest ache.
My steps slow as I descend the entrance stairs, the cool stone beneath my shoes.
He looks up. His eyes find . And he stills. Completely.
His gaze moves over —slowly, deliberately—taking in every detail as if he’s afraid to miss even one.
The white silk against my skin. The silver hair, carefully set, a few strands falling softly at my temple. The red pendant glowing against my pale skin. The softness... I’ve never shown him before.
His lips part slightly, like he’s forgotten how to breathe. I walk toward him, unhurried, deliberate— savoring the way his eyes follow .
"Did I make you wait too long?" I ask softly.
He doesn’t answer. His eyes are still on —still drinking in, like I’m sothing fragile.
Sothing rare. Sothing he’s seeing for the first ti. A whisper slips from his lips, barely there.
"Zyren... you look gorgeous."
I step closer, lifting my hand to adjust his tie, smoothing the fabric against his chest. The silk is cool beneath my fingers.
"And you look handso."
His hand slides to my waist, pulling closer—erasing the space between us. His palm is warm against the white silk, his fingers settling at my hip, firm but gentle.
"Zyren..."
His voice is low, almost a murmur, thick with sothing I can’t quite na. "Are you testing my patience... looking like this?"
A soft smile touches my lips. "I’m not."
His grip tightens just slightly, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles against the fabric.
"Then should we go back inside?" he murmurs. "To your room?"
I reach up and gently squeeze his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm.
"No."
I hold his gaze. "We’re going on a date."
He pauses—just for a second— then smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing, sothing softer settling in his eyes.
"Alright," he says quietly. "I’ll behave."
I lean in and kiss him—soft, quick— a promise pressed gently against his lips.
"Let’s go."
He nods, stepping back to open the car door for .
I slide into the seat, and he closes the door with quiet care. A mont later, he’s beside . The engine hums to life, smooth and low.
The car pulls away from the mansion, leaving the golden lights of the driveway behind us. The world narrows. Just the road ahead. And him beside .
Just us.
For as long as I have left.
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