Zayn’s POV
The table looked perfect — plates lined neatly, candles flickering softly, the air rich with the scent of spices and takeout containers I’d tried my best to plate like I’d made them myself. I didn’t cook any of it, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Alina forgave me… and tonight was about proving I’d never hurt her again.
I checked the clock. She should’ve been home by now.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. My heart kicked. I rushed to the door, grinning like an i***t — and there she was. Alina.
She looked radiant, a little tired, but her smile made everything in me unclench.
“Welcome home, princess,” I said, taking her bag before she could even set it down.
“Well, thank you, gentleman,” she teased, brushing past me. Her eyes landed on the dining table and widen
