Nasya's POV
My heart constricted violently, as if being squeezed by an invisible fist - the same visceral agony I'd felt four years ago when the mating bond shattered between us.
Time had done little to diminish Zayn's imposing presence. He stood framed in the arched church doorway like some fallen angel, his broad shoulders nearly filling the space. The all-black ensemble - tailored suit, silk shirt, even his tie - should have looked mournful at a funeral. Instead, it lent him an air of dangerous elegance, the fabric pulling taut across his muscular frame as he took a step forward. Moonlight from the stained glass windows cast prismatic shadows across his sharp features, highlighting those hypnotic green eyes that once held my entire world. Now they sparked nothing but coldness.
