Rowan Ashford's POV (16 years old):
Most people think I'm intense.
It's probably because I don't talk much. Or smile unless there's a dog involved. Or because my mom calls me "my brooding prince" in front of actual human people. With ears. And phones. And access to Instagram.
But what they don't understand is—I had no choice.
I grew up with Sky Ren Ashford as a mother. She wakes up every morning like she drank five espresso shots in her sleep. She kisses my forehead, messes up my carefully done hair, and tells me "you're gonna be the cutest villain the world's ever seen."
She still trips over the rug outside the kitchen every day. And still expects Dad to catch her. He does. Every time. With that same flat expression, like gravity exists just to bother him.
And that's Dad.
Kai Ashford.
Stoic. Stone-faced. Ex-mafia-coded and still terrifying to every classmate who comes over.
Unless it's Mom.
Mom walks in, wearing one of Dad's shirts and bunny slippers, and suddenly he's handing her tea like she's royalty. Braiding her hair like it's a sacred ritual. She could punch the sun and he'd be like "did it burn you?"
They're…disgustingly in love. And somehow, I don't mind it.
Not when she kisses his cheek in the middle of my school event and he lets her.
Not when he's pretending to work but his eyes keep following her around the room like she's the only light he sees.
I pretend to gag.
But sometimes, secretly—I hope I find something like that too.
Don't tell River I said that.
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River Ashford's POV (15 years old):
Okay, let me be clear—my parents are clinically insane.
Not dangerous insane.
More like hopelessly in love, embarrass you in public, cling to each other like it's still the honeymoon insane.
Exhibit A:
Mom cannot exist in a room without making it glitter. I don't know how. She walks in and suddenly the air smells like vanilla and chaos. One time, she started crying because the bakery ran out of strawberry jam. Dad drove 40 minutes to get it.
Exhibit B:
Dad—tall, scary, mysterious Kai Ashford—literally brushes Mom's hair while she rants about fictional drama. He acts all annoyed, but then he's like "turn your head. That braid's uneven." Bro. You could've been a mob boss. What happened?
Exhibit C:
They still slow dance in the living room. No music. Just vibes.
I once walked in on them kissing during movie night and threatened to move out.
But here's the truth?
They're goals.
Gross, glittery, clingy, forever-and-always goals.
Dad taught me how to defend myself.
Mom taught me how to love with everything I've got.
And together? They taught me that being soft isn't weak.
That love can be loud and messy—and still sacred.
Still strong.
Still everything.
…Also, Rowan cried during Up. I just thought I'd add that.
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Kai Ashford's POV
There's glitter on my hoodie again.
I don't ask why. I already know the answer.
She was in the room. Probably twirling. Probably singing off-key. Probably loving me the same way she always has—loud, messy, fierce.
It's been seventeen years.
And Sky Ren Ashford is still the chaos I never saw coming.
I watch her from the kitchen now, hair a little longer, smile just as bright. She's sitting cross-legged on the floor, braiding River's hair as she hums some ridiculous song and coos, "you'll look so cute, baby, like a tiny medieval prince."
He groans. Rowan snorts.
I smirk.
They pretend to be annoyed. But I see the way they lean into her touch. The way their eyes soften when she calls them "my babies."
They love her more than they'll ever admit.
So do I.
Even now, I don't know how she did it.
How she slipped through the cracks in my walls. How she made my quiet life loud. How she made the world make sense in colors and laughter and glitter bombs.
And somehow—still—I love her more today than I did yesterday.
She turns to me, suddenly. "Kai?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think it's too soon to start planning River's wedding outfit?"
Rowan chokes on air. River falls off the couch.
I cross my arms. "Absolutely not. Let me get my laptop."
She squeals. I swear my ears ring.
But the way she runs into my arms a second later, all soft and warm and mine?
Yeah. I'd do this every lifetime.
Every time.
Forever.
The end.
Signing off.
Siddhii Singh.