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Zayn sat in the backseat, his posture stiff, arms crossed, eyes trained on nothing in particular as the silence. Adric was humming a soft tune under his breath, while Rhys stared out the window, occasionally glancing at Zayn with quiet concern.

They were greeted at the door by the head butler, who led them through the elegant corridors of the mansion to the dining room. The long mahogany table was set immaculately, and their parents were already seated, waiting with warm smiles and expectant eyes.

“Come, boys,” their mother called gently, “Dinner is ready.”

Zayn gave her a small nod, pulling out the chair beside Adric and across from Rhys. The dinner began with light conversation mundane topics about work, distant relatives, and the weather. Zayn barely spoke, quietly eating, occasionally responding when spoken to, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Just as dessert was being served warm apple pie and vanilla ice cream Zayn’s father cleared his throat, the kind of throat-clear that immediately shifted the energy in the room.

“Zayn,” his father began, setting his fork down carefully on the plate, “we’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Zayn paused, his fingers tightening slightly around his fork. He slowly looked up at his father. “Yes, Dad?”

His father exchanged a brief look with his mother before continuing. “We’ve been thinking… it’s time for you to think about settling down.”

Zayn blinked, his jaw subtly clenching.

“I mean,” his father added quickly, “your  brother is married now. and... you’ve been doing so well with Ari. But you need someone by your side too. Life isn't meant to be lived alone.”

Adric and Rhys both turned to look at Zayn, their expressions unreadable. Even their mother now joined in, her tone soft and hesitant.

“We’re not trying to pressure you, son. We know things haven't been easy,” she said gently, her eyes full of concern, “but we just want you to have someone to lean on. You deserve that. And Ari deserves to grow up seeing what a healthy relationship looks like.”

The room fell into silence, heavy and taut like a storm about to break. Zayn sat still, unmoving, his hands trembling slightly over his plate. He didn’t speak, didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

The weight of their words pressed down on his shoulders like stones.

He knew this conversation would come someday. He had rehearsed a thousand ways to say no to dodge, to delay, to escape. But today... he didn’t have the strength to fight. Not with everything else.

His voice came out quiet but clear, slicing through the silence like glass shattering.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Every eye in the room widened.

“What?” Adric blurted out, disbelief etched on his face.

Rhys’s fork clattered against his plate. Their mother sat back in shock, blinking rapidly. Even their father looked momentarily stunned.

Zayn finally lifted his eyes, meeting his mother’s gaze. “You can go ahead and talk to them.”

A beat of silence.

Then his mother’s face broke into a soft, surprised smile. “Oh, sweetheart. We didn’t expect you to say yes so soon.”

Zayn gave her a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve always wanted this for me. Maybe... it’s time I stop running.”

She reached out and touched his hand across the table. “We’ll arrange the meeting. Just have dinner with him, see how you feel. That’s all we’re asking.”

Zayn nodded wordlessly and returned to eating. The conversation resumed, lighter this time, with everyone slowly adjusting to Zayn’s unexpected answer.

But Rhys kept staring.

He watched Zayn closely the way he didn’t touch his pie, the way his hand occasionally twitched, how his eyes stayed on his plate even when people were talking directly to him.

After the meal, as everyone helped clear the table, Rhys cornered him in the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Rhys asked, his voice low.

Zayn looked up at him, startled, and then nodded too quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Zayn...” Rhys stepped closer, lowering his voice further. “This doesn’t seem like you. I mean, you didn’t even hesitate.”

Zayn looked away, jaw tightening. “Maybe that’s the point, Rhys. Maybe I’m tired of hesitating.”

Rhys frowned. “You don’t owe them a marriage just because they want one.”

“I owe them peace of mind,” Zayn replied coldly, then softened. “And maybe Ari needs a stable family. Even if it's not perfect.”

Rhys’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you doing this for Ari or because you're trying to run from someone?”

Zayn froze.

For a brief second, Elior’s face flashed in his mind his soft smile, the way he looked at Ari.

He didn’t respond. Just turned his back and walked toward the main hall.

As the brothers prepared to leave, their mother called after them.

"Zayn, I'll talk to them and they said you can meet him day after tomorrow."

Zayn nodded, offering her a polite smile. “Sure.”

Outside, the night air was cool, brushing against his skin like a silent warning.

Zayn returned home just as the sky turned a deeper shade of violet, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. He unlocked the door slowly, quietly, as if any sudden noise would stir the storm of thoughts already crashing inside his head. The moment he stepped into the living room, his eyes landed on Elior.

Elior was sitting on the couch, his back slightly arched, one arm resting along the armrest while the other gently supported Ari who was peacefully asleep on his lap. The little boy’s tiny chest rose and fell with a rhythmic calm, his chubby hand still clutching the hem of Elior’s shirt as if it offered him some form of security even in sleep.

Zayn paused at the doorway. His gaze lingered on them this quiet, domestic scene. Something about it stirred a tightness in his chest.

Elior lifted his head as he sensed Zayn’s presence, their eyes meeting in the silence that followed. There was no smile on Elior’s face, but his eyes held something concern, perhaps, or quiet understanding.

Zayn cleared his throat softly, walking towards them. He crouched down and gently placed his hands beneath Ari’s small frame, lifting him carefully.

“Thanks for watching him,” Zayn murmured without meeting Elior’s eyes.

Elior simply nodded, brushing a soft curl away from Ari’s forehead as Zayn lifted him into his arms.

Zayn carried Ari to the bedroom, his footsteps soft, almost hesitant. He laid the little boy down on the bed, tucking the blanket gently around him. Ari stirred slightly but didn’t wake his fingers moved as if searching for the warmth he had just lost, but soon settled again.

Zayn sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Ari’s peaceful face, his mind replaying the dinner conversation like a broken tape.

“Zayn, we were thinking that it’s time for you to settle down.”

He had said yes.

He still didn’t know why.

Maybe it was the weight of expectations. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was just that he had no energy left to fight.

His hands rested on his knees, fingers loosely intertwined, head bowed down like the weight of that single decision had suddenly made his entire body heavier.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the hallway through the slightly open door. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just kept thinking.

About the look on Rhys’s face.

The shock in Adric’s eyes.

The stunned silence of his parents before the gleam of happiness took over.

He hadn’t looked at Elior after that.

Couldn’t.

He didn’t even know what this meant not really. Meeting someone? A potential spouse? For what? A marriage to satisfy societal demands? His family’s pride?

He felt like a puppet that had finally given in to the strings.

Still sitting on the bed, Zayn slowly leaned back until he was lying flat beside Ari, careful not to disturb him. His eyes focused on the ceiling, but all he could see was the image of Elior—sitting on the couch, cradling Ari, calm and steady as always.

He closed his eyes.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

All he could feel was the hollow echo of a decision that didn’t belong to him… yet he had made it.

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