Ivan
I stand on the balcony of the beach house, watching the ocean roll in slow, steady waves.
We're in Solmere — an island kingdom tucked so far off the map it might as well be in another century. It's one of the last places in the world with an active monarchy, and it feels like it.
The air is quiet in a very controlled way. Peaceful, beautiful… and a little eerie if you think about it too long.
From up here, the whole coastline looks unreal. White cliffs. Golden sand. That deep jewel-blue ocean you only see in travel magazines edited by someone with no conscience.
A fairytale.
A suspicious, probably corrupt fairytale — but a fairytale.
Apparently this is Margaret's hometown.
Makes sense. She escaped with her younger sister, who's an omega, because the treatment of omegas here is… bad.
Like — centuries-ago bad. I hear they even have auctions, omega auctions. I shudder.
The internet here is censored. TV channels filter anything modern. The locals don't even know how the rest of the world lives, and honestly?
That's none of my business.
I'm here for vacation.
In a place that doesn't know me.
Doesn't care about me.
Doesn't turn my every sneeze into national news.
In my regular life, if I so much as blink too aggressively, some gossip forum will swear I'm announcing a divorce.
Despite being out of the spotlight for months, the public still follows me like a hungry cult.
But here?
Solmere doesn't give a damn.
And God… that's nice.
I breathe in the salty wind, tilt my head back, let myself exist without the weight of being watched.
I can't remember the last time I just walked outside without security discreetly shadowing me or someone screaming my name from across a street.
I am once again very grateful my husband is a super rich, super influential man whose money can buy me a break from civilization.
As I lean against the railing, something in the distance catches my eye.
On the beach, a little girl sits perched on the shoulders of a man.
My man.
My daughter.
Nia is waving a stick around like a tiny warlord, and Zander is pretending it's not hitting his head every four seconds.
The sight hits me right in the chest.
I still find it surreal that she comes from both of us.
That I had her.
That she is ours.
Zander adjusts her on his shoulders, and she immediately slaps both hands against the sides of his head. He takes it like a champ. He would let that child burn down the kingdom if she asked nicely.
They look so small from here — father and daughter framed by waves and for a moment I do nothing but watch them.
My whole world, walking on sand.
And somehow… it's enough.
More than enough.
*
Okay, maybe we've been in this kingdom too long.
I can't even blame Margaret anymore — she dealt with the family issues that forced us to come to Solmere in the first place.
And somehow, I've become… a babysitter.
A willing babysitter. For the little boy on the floor, next to Lanny thanks to my new friends that I made here.
Each time I say, "Let's stay a little longer," Zander indulges me. Every. Single. Time.Which is how "two weeks" turned into "a month," and then "maybe we should look at local schools," and now…
He's buying the beach house.
Because one day I sighed dreamily and said, "I wish this place was ours," and the next morning there were papers on the table, three real estate agents in the living room, and Zander asking me which balcony I preferred for morning coffee.
He spoils me.
Too much sometimes.
But I can't complain because this is the kind of spoiling that feels like worship, not suffocation. The kind that says:
Stay. Be happy. I'll make the world accommodate you.
And I am happy.
God, I'm so happy it almost scares me sometimes. The kind of joy that settles into your bones and makes you feel like maybe life isn't just surviving and fighting — maybe it can be soft, warm, and simple.
***
Zander
Sometimes, I can't find the words to show how much I love him.
I love him a lot.
More than a lot.
He's my entire world.
Being around Ivan is… it's like taking a breath of fresh air after drowning for years.
And somehow, even that isn't enough to describe it.
He fills every space inside me, and still I want more.
I'm lying on the couch, Ivan tucked in my arms on one side, Nia curled against my other. They're both asleep — my husband and my daughter — the two people I would burn the whole world for.
I look at them and feel rich in a way money will never touch.
Ivan's face is soft in sleep, lips slightly parted, lashes resting on his cheeks like dark feathers. Nia mirrors him perfectly — tiny, warm, breathing in that slow toddler rhythm.
They look alike.
Both mine.
A smile tugs at my mouth before I can stop it.
This…
This moment…
This quiet room, this couch, this sunlight spilling over them —
I'm exactly where I want to be.
For the rest of my life.
I adjust my arm to hold them both a little closer. Ivan sighs in his sleep and nuzzles into my chest. Nia kicks once and then goes limp again, hand clutching my shirt.
I'll do anything — anything — to keep the two people in my arms smiling forever.
Anything.
I close my eyes, letting the rhythm of their breathing lull me. Their warmth seeps into me, grounding me, settling something inside my chest I didn't even know was restless.
As I drift toward sleep, a thought slips in quietly:
Is it possible to be this happy?
A happiness so complete it feels unreal.
I hold them tighter, as if the universe might try to take them if I loosen my grip even for a second.
If this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up.