By the time Maymay returns, the whole house shifts.
She walks in glowing—marked, mated, and undeniably his. There’s a subtle difference to her now, like a final puzzle piece just clicked into place. She’s wrapped in a soft sage green dress Ryan picked out for her, the fabric skimming her curves and dipping slightly to show off the refreshed mark on her neck.
It’s bold and proud, a visible claim—and yet she doesn’t look claimed. She looks complete.
Her makeup is barely there. Just a soft shimmer on her lids, a hint of colour on her lips. And for once, her beauty isn’t sculpted or defined by anything she’s wearing. It’s radiating out of her.
I blink once. Then again. My throat tightens.
“Maymay…” I whisper, walking toward her like she’s some delicate new version of herself I don’t want
