Chapter 28

Phayu's POV

A few days after the party, and I've finally stopped crashing out over Rocky.

Mostly.

I'm no longer seeing red every time I remember my daughter kissing his cheek at his own birthday party while Rain, my lovely vicious husband, video-called me and all her uncles just so we could witness the horror in real time.

I'm choosing peace now. Growth. Maturity.

That said, I took every ounce of that frustration out on Rain's ass.

Repeatedly.

He's only just stopped glaring at me every time he walks past, and the way he's finally moving normally again tells me I judged the punishment perfectly.

And I apologize for absolutely nothing. In fact, if anything, I think he should be grateful I didn't make it worse.

Anyway, everything's back to normal now.

No punishments hanging over anyone's head. No bans. No dramatic family meetings. Just my usual chaos—my daughter happy, spoiled rotten, ruling the estate like the tiny glitter-covered tyrant she is.

And her training?

Going beautifully.

Scarily beautifully.

She can identify guns now. Properly. Not just by color or size, but by shape, build, function. She knows the names of bullets too, points at them with those bright big eyes and says them back like vocabulary words.

My five-year-old rockstar.

I'm in the training room with her now, crouched beside the table where the unloaded pieces are laid out for her. Tiny pink ear defenders on. Hair tied up badly by me and left that way because she told Papa not to touch it after I did it.

She points proudly. "That's a Glock."

I nod once. "Good."

"And that's not a semi one, Dada, because the slide is different."

"Very good, tiger."

She beams so hard it almost knocks me out.

Then she points to the rounds laid out in a row, all under strict watch, all part of today's lesson. "And this one goes with this one," she says, matching them carefully.

I watch her, heart full and stupid with pride. "You're getting too good at this."

She gasps dramatically. "Because you say I'm smart, Dada!"

I laugh despite myself, leaning over to kiss her temple. "Yeah, baby. You are the smartest girl in the whole world."

She turns to me, serious all of a sudden. "When I'm bigger, I'm gonna protect you and Papa too."

And there it is....the thing that splits me open every time.

I cup her cheek, thumb brushing over soft skin. "You already do, princess."

She squints at me like she's trying to decide if I'm joking.

I'm not.

This little girl, with her sparkly socks and designer dresses and deadly aim, owns every beating part of me. She's spoiled because she's loved. She's fearless because we built her that way. And she's brilliant because she's ours.

My whole fucking heart.

She's not shooting yet, not properly. Not with anything that kicks back hard enough to bruise her shoulder and make Rain glare at me like I personally invented recoil. So for now, we keep it to recognition, grip, stance, discipline and assembling.

Rain, though? He's already taken over the other parts.

Stealth. Balance. Knife handling. Hand to hand combats; Muay Thai and the rest.

Just as Kaia is proudly matching another round to its correct gun, Rain steps into the training room like a vision in white, calm and beautiful as ever. Soft linen, glowing hair, that quiet grace of his that makes everyone underestimate him right until it's too late.

My eyes go to him automatically and Kaia spots him a second later and lights up. "Papa!"

Rain smiles and comes straight to her, crouching beside her table. He smooths a hand over her curls, brushes one away from her forehead, and says gently, "And remember, princess, no talking about guns at school, okay?"

She nods seriously at first, like she's receiving state secrets. But then her mouth pushes into a pout, brows pulling together.

"But why, Papa?" she asks, dramatic and earnest all at once "They're sooo cool. And the boys can talk about them all the time."

I smirk from where I'm leaning against the table, already waiting for Rain to launch into some polished, diplomatic answer in all white, calm and beautiful like he isn't explaining firearms etiquette to a five-year-old in the middle of our private training room.

Instead, he just looks at her calmly.

"The boys play with toy guns," he says. "You have real guns. That makes you cooler."

Kaia straightens immediately, pleased with that logic.

"But," Rain continues before she can get too excited, "if you tell them you have real guns, they'll get scared. Then they'll tell their parents, and their parents will get scared too and make a fuss. And then me and Dada are going to have to make it right."

Kaia blinks up at him. "How?"

Rain glances at me once, then back at her. "In ways that take time and are very annoying."

"How Papa?" she asks suspiciously.

Rain's mouth twitches. "By talking, baby."

I snort.

He doesn't even glance at me. "By talking first," he corrects smoothly.

That makes me laugh.

Kaia, however, takes it as the grave truth it is. She nods slowly. "So I shouldn't tell them because then you and papa won't be happy?."

"Exactly," Rain says, pleased.

She points at me. "Dada gets scary when he's not happy."

"I'm right here," I mutter.

Rain doesn't even look at me. "And Papa gets mean."

Kaia gasps softly, like this is all very tragic. Then she leans forward, lowering her voice. "Okay. I won't tell them. It'll be our secret."

Rain smiles and kisses her forehead. "Good girl."

She beams at that, then turns back to the table, fully recovered. "Can I still tell Lilly I know knife tricks?"

Rain and I both say, at the exact same time, "No."

She sighs dramatically, like she's the only reasonable person in the room. "Nothing fun."

I crouch on her other side, grinning now because she looks so personally betrayed by the concept of operational secrecy. "Tiger, you get to know cool things. That doesn't mean everybody else gets to know you know them."

She tilts her head. "Because I'm special?"

Rain kisses her cheek. "Exactly because you're special."

That satisfies her for all of two seconds.

Then she perks up again. "Can I still tell Lilly I can sneak better than her?"

"No," Rain says immediately.

"Yes," I say at the same time.

He looks at me. I look at him.

Kaia gasps softly, delighted. "You're doing the thing."

"The thing?" Rain asks.

"Yes. Uncle Win said when you say different stuff and then stare at each other like you're going to kiss or fight."

I bark out a laugh. Rain rolls his eyes, but there's pink high on his cheeks now.

He stands, smoothing down the front of his shirt, and Kaia grabs his hand before he can step away. "Papa, I want to show Dada how quiet I can walk."

I arch a brow at Rain, smug already. "You hear that? She wants to impress me."

"She always wants to impress you," he mutters, though there's no heat in it.

Kaia jumps down from the stool, planting her little feet carefully. Rain moves behind her, hands on her shoulders, turning her gently toward the hallway outside the training room.

"Okay," he says softly. "Slow steps. Heel first? No. Ball of your foot first. Keep your shoulders relaxed. And breathe."

She nods with fierce concentration.

Then she starts walking.

And fuck me if she isn't actually good.

Tiny, silent steps. No bouncing, no humming, no chatter. Just focused little movements with her chin up and eyes forward, like a miniature assassin in sparkly socks.

I whistle low. "That's not bad."

Kaia beams, all stealth forgotten as she spins back to us. "Did you hear me?"

"No," Rain says proudly.

"I did not baby," I add.

She throws both hands up in victory. "I'm the coolest!"

Rain catches her before she can topple backward with excitement, lifting her into his arms. "You are," he agrees, kissing her temple. "But cool girls don't talk about real guns at school."

She groans, flopping dramatically against his shoulder. "Fine."

I walk over, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. "Good girl."

Kaia grins like she's being raised by elegance and violence in equal measure.

Rain glances up at me, amused. "You look too happy."

"I am happy," I say, reaching to brush my hand over the back of his neck. "My daughter's lethal and obedient. That's a good day."

Kaia looks up immediately. "And cool."

Rain nods solemnly. "And cool."

I grin.

Yeah.

That's my fucking family.

Then, I lift her from Rain into my arms without thinking, settling her easily on my hip. "Wanna hang with me while I work, tiger?"

She nods immediately, happy and bright, and cups my face with both hands like she always does. Small palms on my cheeks, eyes locked on mine.

For some reason, she loves doing that—holding my face and just looking at me like she's reading something there, like she sees all of me and isn't afraid of any of it.

Rain can't hold my gaze for too long when I really pin him with it. He always laughs, looks away, kisses me instead, or bites back with something smart. But Kaia? She just stares right into me.

And I love that. Love that we have something that belongs only to us.

Before I can turn toward the house, Rain cuts in, one brow raised. "No meetings?"

"None," I say. "Just a few paperwork."

He nods once, satisfied. "Then I'll sit with you guys."

Kaia cheers like she's been handed the best deal of her life, and I kiss her cheek, already smiling as we head back into the main house together.

She stays in my arms the whole way, chattering with Rain over my shoulder about the garden—how the tomatoes are "finally growing pretty," how one of the flowers is "being extra extra," and when exactly they're going back to the open market for seeds.

Rain hums along, indulging every word, asking her serious questions about soil and colors like she's the head gardener and not a tiny menace in glitter socks.

By the time we step into my office, she's deep into a passionate explanation about why they need more sunflowers because "they're happy flowers, Dada."

I set her down on the couch and she immediately curls into the corner, reaching for the coloring pencils I keep stocked for her in the drawer. Rain settles beside her with a soft sigh, legs crossed, all white and grace against my dark office.

And just like that, the room changes.

It stops being my office, It becomes theirs too.

Mine in contracts and blood and signatures. Theirs in laughter and soft voices and the smell of Rain's perfume lingering in the air.

I sit behind my desk, open the first file, and try to focus while Kaia narrates her drawing in real time and Rain occasionally leans over to kiss her head or correct her spelling on some flower label she's making up.

This—this is what I want.

My daughter within reach. My husband in my line of sight. No bullets or meetings or men bleeding on warehouse floors.

Just paperwork and arden talk with my loves.

Kaia suddenly looks up from her drawing. "Dada?"

"Yeah, tiger?"

She grins and holds up the page. It's a terrible but enthusiastic drawing of the three of us in a garden, all disproportionate heads and stick limbs, and in the middle, she's drawn a massive yellow flower taller than the house.

"That's us," she says proudly. "And that's the giant sunflower Papa and I are gonna grow."

Rain laughs softly. "You made Dada's arms too big."

"No I didn't," Kaia says. "They are that big."

I lean back in my chair, looking at the drawing, then at them.

And fuck.

There is no empire bigger than this.....

I go back to work.

Or I try to.

Rain and Kaia keep chattering on the couch like they've been personally tasked with filling every inch of silence in this house. Rain could talk to her for an entire day and never run out of patience, never lose that soft, amused interest in every ridiculous little thing she says.

Me? I love my daughter more than life itself, but the truth is kid babble wears me out fast.

Ten minutes in and I'm already mentally checking out while still nodding like I'm following every twist in the saga of a ladybug she saw three days ago.

Kaia draws while they talk. Pages and pages. First the garden. Then us. Then, because she's my daughter and therefore a menace, she draws us in the weapons room, with her own wild interpretation of guns and bullets—everything oversized, sparkly, dramatic.

Rain leans over, sees it, and immediately grimaces at me.

"Baby," he tells her gently, taking the pencil from her for a second, "don't draw things like this at school, okay?"

I snort behind my paperwork, biting back a laugh.

He gives me a nasty stink eye. He still wants her as normal as possible. Normal school. Normal routines. Normal friends.

As if I haven't already told him at least twenty times that our daughter should be homeschooled in a secure wing of the estate until she's twenty one.

They go right back to their conversation after that, and eventually I sink fully into work. Contracts. Sign-offs. Two messages to answer. A report to skim. And as usual, every few minutes one of them interrupts me.

"Dada, kiss."

"Phi, come here."

"Dada, look."

"Baby, just one."

I oblige every time, because of course I do. Kisses for both of them. A quick glance at a flower she's drawn with a gun apparently hidden in the petals because she is absolutely my child.

At one point I almost tell them both to get out of my office when they start singing and dancing along to some ridiculous kids song, but Rain knows exactly what I'm doing today and exactly what I'm not.

Nothing urgent or critical, nothing that matters more than them.

So, they use that against me mercilessly.

And well, at least they're not out spending money and bleeding me dry or sneaking off to some secret crush meeting at Sky's bakery.

I glance up from the contract in my hand and snort under my breath. "You two are lucky I love you."

Rain doesn't even look up from the iPad. "Very lucky."

Kaia does. "I'm the luckiest, Dada."

I just smile and shake my head.

Both of them, spoiled as fuck.

And then, eventually, it goes quiet. I look up from the file in my hands.

They're curled together on the couch under the throw blanket, tucked into each other like they were made to fit exactly that way.

Rain has one earpiece in, Kaia has the other, both connected to his iPad. Whatever they're watching has them completely absorbed. Even Kaia isn't giving commentary for once.

She's just leaned into him, warm and still, while Rain strokes his fingers slowly through her hair without even thinking about it. And the whole room feels softer because they're in it.

I just sit there, staring.

Because there's a kind of love that feels violent —possessive, terrifying in its depth—and then there's this.

This quiet, aching contentment that sneaks up on me when I'm not prepared for it. This impossible fullness in my chest. The kind that makes the rest of my life—blood, business, violence, noise—feel far away and meaningless for one suspended second.

My husband. My daughter. My whole fucking heart, wrapped in white and pastel and blanket folds on my office couch.

And God.

The love I feel in that moment is so deep it hurts.

I don't call their names or disturb them. I just lean back in my chair and watch them a little longer than I should, memorizing it the way I memorize all the best things.

Rain looks up eventually, catching me staring.

He smiles softly—in that small, knowing way of his and without saying a word, he reaches down and kisses the top of Kaia's head.

I smile back before dropping my eyes to the page again, though I'm not reading a damn thing anymore.

Because how am I supposed to care about paperwork when everything that matters is ten feet away, breathing quietly under one blanket?

Then Kaia pulls her earpiece out and turns to me all serious. "Dada."

"Yeah, tiger?"

"Come here please."

Rain smirks without even lifting his eyes from the screen. He already knows I'm going to do it.

I sigh like I'm deeply burdened by the request, push back from my desk, and walk over. Kaia pats the tiny space between them like there's actually room for a man my size.

"There is not enough space," I tell her.

"There is if you love us," she says immediately.

Rain snorts, shoulders shaking. "Damn. She got you."

I narrow my eyes at him, but I'm already reaching down to scoop Kaia into my arms. She squeals when I lift her, blanket and all, and then I sit where her legs were, dragging both her and Rain into me until the three of us are a tangled mess on the couch.

"There," I mutter. "Happy?"

Kaia nods, beaming, now half across my lap and half across Rain's. "Yep."

Rain finally looks up at me, amused and warm and so fucking beautiful it still punches the air from my lungs sometimes. "See? This is why we don't leave you alone with paperwork too long. You get grumpy."

"I was not grumpy."

"You were thinking about kicking us out."

I look at Kaia. She gasps. "Dada!"

"Almost," I correct, and kiss her forehead until she giggles again. "And only because you both are menaces."

Rain slides the iPad onto the armrest and shifts closer, shoulder pressed to mine now. "We prefer adorable."

"You both are noisy and chaotic," I say.

"Papa says we're adorable," Kaia counters.

Rain nods solemnly. "Adorable chaos."

I look at the two of them. Both blonde, one with my eyes and Rain's face, both watching me like they expect me to surrender.

I do.

Obviously.

"Fine," I say. "Adorable chaos."

Kaia cheers and throws her arms around my neck so hard I nearly lose my balance off the couch. Rain laughs and steadies all three of us with one hand pressed to my thigh.

And God.

That feeling hits me again. That deep, aching, impossible contentment, the kind that makes me want to freeze time right here.

Kaia looks between us, suddenly thoughtful. "Can we stay like this forever?"

Rain's face softens first.

Then mine. I kiss her hair. "Yeah, baby. As long as you want."

Rain leans over and kisses her cheek, then mine. "Forever sounds good to me."

Kaia smiles, satisfied, and settles back in, rearranging herself until she's comfortable again. Rain hands her the earpiece, and a second later she's absorbed once more, small body draped across both of ours

I rest my head back against the couch, one arm around Kaia, the other around Rain's shoulders, and let the paperwork wait.

Let the whole world wait.

Because at least today they're not wrecking me in some shopping district or plotting romance disasters with little boys and cheek kisses.

Today, they're here.

And that's enough.

Then a scene on whatever it is they're watching comes up and it's a beach scene.

The beach scene on the screen is all turquoise water and bright umbrellas, and Kaia goes still in the middle of chewing on her lower lip.

Then she tips her head back against my arm and looks at me with complete seriousness.

"Dada," she says, "when can we go to the beach? I miss the beach."

Rain turns his head toward me instantly.

He knows her calendar. He knows mine too. Better than I do, half the time. So he just looks at me and waits, one brow lifting slightly, leaving it in my hands.

I glance between them—my daughter sprawled across both of us, my husband warm at my side, both waiting like this is a board meeting and I'm the last vote.

I sigh like I'm deeply inconvenienced, even though I'm already thinking through dates, flights, security, villas, weather, tides.

"When's my next long weekend?" I ask Rain.

He answers immediately. "Kaia's recital practice ends Thursday next week. You're only blocked Friday morning. You can move the site review to Monday if you stop pretending you can't."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You sound very sure."

He smiles, slow and smug. "Because I already know you're going to say yes."

Kaia gasps and twists around, half climbing me in excitement. "Really?"

I catch her before she elbows me in the throat. "Maybe."

"Dada."

That tone. Pure Rain.

I lean back into the couch, one arm still around her, the other around Rain's shoulders. "We'll see, tiger."

She narrows her eyes at me. "That means no."

Rain snorts softly beside her and presses a kiss to her temple. "That means Dada's pretending he doesn't already want to take us."

I look at him. "You volunteering to clear both our schedules?"

He lifts one brow. "If it gets me two days at the beach with you and Kaia? Easily."

Kaia gasps and turns to me fully now, climbing half into my lap in her excitement. "Dada pleaseee, I miss the water and my pink float and the sandcastle we made and papa said maybe next time we can stay longer."

I sigh like this is a burden, but both of them know me too well. Rain's already smiling, that small smug smile he gets when he knows I'm about to fold, and Kaia is holding my face again, making me meet her eyes.

I huff and kiss her forehead before she can launch into negotiations. "Fine. We can go next weekend."

She screams.

Rain winces, laughing, and Kaia throws herself at me so hard the blanket falls off all three of us. "Really really?"

"Yes, tiger," I say, grinning now because there's no fighting this anyway. "Really really."

She scrambles across me and then onto Rain, shaking him by the shoulders in her excitement. "Papa! Beach! Beach! Beach!"

Rain laughs helplessly and catches her hands. "Okay, okay, baby, I heard you."

Kaia cheers again and immediately starts talking at top speed about what she's going to pack, which float she wants, whether Win and Saifah can come, and if Papa will wear white to the beach too.

Rain answers every question like this is now a formal planning meeting. "No, your uncles aren't coming. Yes, I will wear white. No, you cannot pack fifteen toys. Yes, we'll bring snacks."

I close my eyes for one second, listening to them spiral into beach logistics, and even though I act put upon, the truth is simple.

Whatever they want, they get. And there is nothing in this world I own that I wouldn't hand over to them.

Then, I get a notification and look to Rain, we have an unspoken conversation right there as his eyes soften in understanding.

I whisper to Kaia gently shifting her off me, "Be right back Tiger, I just need to get something"

She just nods, facing Rain and continues her fashion planning with Rain for the beach, "matchy matchy Papa"in her words.

And I make my way over to my desk drawer.

RAIN'S POV

I look at the velvet box in Phi's hand—small, elegant, lined with midnight black satin. Inside it sits a delicate bracelet, rose-gold with a slim chain, dainty enough for a five-year-old wrist. It's beautiful. It also has a tracker embedded in the clasp.

Phi doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to. His eyes are steady on mine, like he's waiting for me to push back, to argue like I did last time. Because she's five. Because she should be playing in dirt, not wearing surveillance on her skin.

But she got taken.

And we were lucky. We got her back because of timing, because of instincts, because of Kaia being smarter than anyone gave her credit for. But luck isn't a plan, and Venice never operates without a plan.

If I say no, he won't fight me. He'll find another way—quietly, obsessively. But I don't have a better solution. Not one that works. Not one that keeps her safe unless I want to keep her locked in the house until she's twenty.

So I sigh and hold out a hand. "Baby, We've got something for you."

She turns over, the grin on her face is sunshine itself. Phi softens instantly—his grip loosening around the box as he opens it and she peeks in.

"For me?" she gasps.

She gets gifts all the time—half of which she never even sees until days later—but she always reacts like it's the first thing she's ever gotten.Like she's surprised anyone loves her enough to give her anything.

That gratitude never fades. It kills me and makes me want to give her the world at the same time.

Phi nods and carefully takes the bracelet out, holding her hand like it's made of glass. He clips it onto her wrist, adjusts the chain.

His hands are steady but I can see the tremor behind the way he stares at it for a second too long, like maybe now, finally, he can breathe easier.

"This is a special bracelet, tiger," he murmurs.

Kaia's eyes wide as s he holds up her wrist to inspect the bracelet, like it's the most sacred thing in the world. Her fingers trace the metal delicately, and she tilts her head.

"It's shiny," she whispers.

Phi adjusts it gently. "It's more than shiny, baby. No taking it off, okay?"

Kaia turns her wrist, watching it glint in the light. "Why?"

"It helps us find you," I say softly. "Like a magic compass that always points to our girl."

Her eyes light up. "Like the one in Moana?"

"Exactly," Phi says, smiling, voice low.

Her smile returns—bright, proud. "Does it talk too?"

Phi chuckles. "No, not yet. But it listens."

"Like Papa," she says, turning to me.

And it knocks the breath right out of my chest.

I reach out and press a kiss to her forehead. "Exactly like me."

She beams and flings her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Dada."

He hugs her tight, burying his face in her hair. "Anything for you."

I scoot in beside them, rubbing her back, and kiss the top of her head. "Always," I whisper. "Anything. Always."

She's five and she's wearing a tracker.

And it's still not enough...but it's a start.

He hugs her tightly, resting his forehead against hers. "You keep it on always, okay?"

She nods against him. "Always."

I exhale slowly. There's a pit in my stomach that hasn't fully gone away since the kidnapping. But watching her now—tiny, fierce, brave—it eases a little.

Phi looks at me over her shoulder, his eyes still guarded beneath the warmth. He didn't need me to agree. He needed me to understand. And I do.

"Oh, and we have one more gift for you, baby." She looks up from admiring her new bracelet, eyes already wide with delight.

I leave the room briefly, thank the guard and return with a small cream-colored carrier cradled in both hands. It wriggles once, the tiniest shuffle, and her whole body goes still in anticipation.

I kneel in front of her and slowly unzip it.

Out tumbles a sleepy golden retriever puppy, warm and dozy, blinking up at her with soft caramel eyes and oversized paws.

Kaia's gasp splits the air, jumping off the couch. "A dog?! Is he mine?"

Her hands are already hovering over him, hesitant and reverent, like she can't believe he's real. The puppy yawns, tail wagging slow and clumsy, and nudges her hand.

"If you're going to be only ours," I say gently, "you're going to have a friend. Someone to grow up with. Someone who's just yours."

Her hands cradle him now, delicate and sure. "Hi," she whispers. "I'm Kaia. You're really cute."

Phi kneels beside me, stroking the puppy's head. "He's yours, tiger. But he's also your responsibility."

She nods fast, still mesmerized. "I'll feed him and play with him and teach him tricks and—"She pauses, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "His name is Blue."

I blink. "Blue?"

"Yeah," she grins, looking up at us. "Because he's soft like clouds and calm like the sky. And because it's my favorite color now."

Phi snorts, probably thinking about Rocky and his dumb blue shirt. But Kaia doesn't notice. She's already lying on the rug, hugging Blue like she's found a missing part of herself.

She's five.And today, she has magic on her wrist and someone to love that's just her size.

*******

The day of the beach starts before sunrise, and Kaia's excitement doesn't let up for a single second.

From the moment I wake her, she's already asking if we're late.

I bathe her while she sings nonsense songs about the ocean and sharks and how Blue is going to see the sea for the first time, and then breakfast is a whole production because she can't sit still long enough to finish one thing before remembering another thing she needs to pack.

Blue's just as bad, tail going nonstop, circling her chair like he understands every word.

Our security team flew ahead last night, led by Win, while Saifah stayed back to run things at home and pretend he wasn't deeply offended to be missing this trip. I know him well enough to know he sulked about it for at least an hour.

Now we're heading to the private jet, and Kaia's in the backseat with Blue, singing again, all off-key joy and sunshine.

Phi's driving, one hand loose on the wheel, sunglasses on, polo shirt stretched just right over his shoulders, shorts low on his hips, his collar lifting in the wind coming through the cracked window.

His tattoos spill down both arms, his hair pulled half-up and already slipping loose around his face.

He looks obscene.

I'm in soft linen pants and a loose shirt, trying to act like I'm not already thinking about getting him shirtless on the beach and then keeping him that way.

By the time we reach the airport, everything moves with quiet efficiency. Two security cars are already there, men waiting, doors opening before the engine fully dies.

Phi gets out first and immediately falls into conversation with them, checking routes, timing, positions—always the same. Always making sure the world is exactly where he wants it before he lets us step into it.

"Papa, let's go!" Kaia calls from the back, voice bright and impatient.

"In a bit, baby," I tell her, glancing back. "Dada just has to make sure everything's set."

She pouts dramatically and drops her hand to Blue's head, stroking his ears while he flops deeper against the seat like a prince waiting for his escort.

I pull out my phone and answer a few messages—Sky sending heart emojis and a warning not to let Kaia eat too much ice cream before lunch, Win sending a photo of the villa view just to be smug—when my door opens.

Phi.

He offers me his hand and helps me out like he always does, even in the most ordinary moments. Then he moves to the back and opens Kaia's door.

She lights up instantly, throwing her arms out toward him without hesitation.

He smiles, kisses the top of her head, and lifts her out with ease before passing her to me. Then he bends back in for Blue, who accepts being ushered into his carrier. 

Kaia wraps around my neck, already bouncing in place in my arms. "Papa, are we really going now?"

I kiss her cheek. "Yes, baby. We're really going now."

Phi shuts the car door and comes up beside us, dog in one arm, the other hand settling briefly at my lower back as he guides us toward the jet. His fingers press there, warm and possessive, and I glance at him.

He tilts his sunglasses down just enough to look at me properly. "You good baby?"

I nod. "Better now."

He smirks like he knows exactly what I mean, then leans down and kisses Kaia's temple.

"Beach weekend, tiger."

She squeals so loud Blue actually startles in his arms.

...

We're not just going to the beach. We're going to Soneva Kiri, villa tucked away on Koh Kood for the weekend, which means the trip is longer than the usual quick getaway Kaia's used to.

Private, exclusive, ridiculous in all the best ways—our own stretch of paradise with butlers, impossible views, and enough space for Phi to pretend he's relaxing while still stalking every perimeter.

Kaia is vibrating beside me before we've even fully boarded.

I'm trying to strap her in by the window, but she keeps twisting around to ask questions, point at things, pet Blue through the side of his carrier, and announce every thirty seconds that she's "so excited I might explode papa."

I laugh and catch her chin gently. "Sit still, baby. You can get up once we take off."

She grins, trying very hard to behave, shoulders squared with determination for all of three seconds before she wiggles again.

Phi just shakes his head and gets Blue settled properly for takeoff, then comes over to help me fit Kaia's headphones over her ears.

"There," I murmur, adjusting them. "Comfy?"

She nods quickly, already looking out the window like the entire world is unveiling itself just for her.

And once we take off, that's exactly how she acts.

Her face is pressed to the glass, breath fogging it in little bursts as she points out clouds, tiny roads, buildings shrinking below us, and then the water—always the water.

She keeps tugging my hand and showing me everything like I can't possibly see it without her, even if this isn't her first time flying.

"Papa, look! Look, it's so small now!"

"I see it, baby."

"And that cloud looks like Blue."

"It does."

"And that one looks like Dada when he's mad."

I laugh so hard Phi looks up from across us, one brow raised behind his sunglasses. "I don't even want to know," he says.

Kaia gasps dramatically with her headset. "Dada, I said you look like a cloud!"

He nods once, serious. "That's somehow worse."

By the time we level out and the seatbelt sign finally switches off, she's already wriggling in her seat so much I know what's coming.

I unbuckle her and the second I do, she climbs over me like a determined little monkey, nearly kneeing me in the ribs in her rush to get to her father.

"Dada!"

Phi barely has time to set his phone down before she's in his lap, all curls and chatter and beach plans.

He catches her easily, one arm around her waist, the other smoothing her hair back from her face as if this is exactly where he expected her to end up.

I lean back in my seat, watching them with a smile I don't bother hiding. Kaia's already launching into a new speech about sandcastles and Blue seeing the ocean and how she wants me to wear white on the beach because "you always look nicer than everybody else."

Phi glances up at me over her head, amused and warm and devastatingly handsome even half-reclined in a private jet.

And just like that, I'm smiling wider.

...

Once we're high enough and the plane levels, we move to the open seating area to get comfortable. Kaia immediately claims Phi, climbing all over him in a mess of limbs and laughter.

He just adjusts her automatically so she doesn't fall, one arm around her waist while she swings half off him and points at absolutely nothing with extreme importance.

I let blue out of his carrier,then settle beside them and stretch out, and because I can, I place my feet in Phi's lap. He doesn't even look up before one hand slides to my ankle and starts massaging, slow and firm.

Blue circles once, then jumps into my lap and collapses there like he's paying for a first-class seat.

I watch my husband and daughter and think, not for the first time, that they are the same person in two different forms—both beautiful, dramatic, clingy when they feel like it, and absolutely certain the world should rearrange itself around them.

The air hostess comes over then, smiling so warmly at Kaia that it's obvious she's already been charmed beyond repair.

She introduces herself and turns to Kaia first

"And what would our little lady like?" she asks.

Kaia sits up straighter, already delighted. I'd called ahead and had the jet pre-stocked with all her favorites, so when she starts listing things and the hostess nods along like each request is perfectly reasonable, she nearly glows.

"Can I have strawberry yogurt? And the mango sticky rice? And the gummy bears? And—"

"You'll explode," I tell her.

"No I won't," she says seriously. "I'm going to the beach."

The hostess laughs and promises she'll bring everything.

I ask for soft fruit and desserts for me and Phi, plus wine, and then sit back while Kaia continues adding to her own order like she's trying to feed a football team.

Once the hostess leaves, Phi reaches for his iPad with his free hand and pulls up a set of plans, because apparently even on the way to paradise, he can't help being himself.

He starts working, eyes scanning the screen, all while still massaging my feet without pause.

He doesn't seem remotely bothered by the fact that our daughter is currently draped across him, swinging from his neck and trying to comment on the drawings.

"Dada, what's that?"

"A wall."

"Why?"

"Because buildings need them."

She thinks about that. "Not beach buildings."

He glances at her finally. "Beach buildings definitely need walls."

"No," she says with absolute conviction. "And when we get there, you can't work."

He raises one brow. "Can't I?"

"No," she repeats. "You have to beach."

I laugh into my wine. "She's right."

Phi looks at me over the top of her head, hand still on my foot, expression dry. "You two are impossible."

Kaia gasps. "Papa, Dada said impossible like it's bad."

I smile sweetly. "He means adorable."

Phi snorts, shakes his head, and finally sets the iPad aside when Kaia starts trying to turn his face toward her with both hands.

"Fine," he says, sliding the device out of reach. "No work right now."

Kaia cheers like she's won a legal battle and immediately takes over the entire space, climbing more fully into his lap. Blue shifts in mine with a huff, and I stroke behind his ears while watching the two of them.

By the time the food arrives, the table between us is ridiculous in the best way. Mango sticky rice, little bowls of island fruits, a charcuterie board with meats and cheeses, warm pastries, tiny desserts, and another board built almost entirely for Kaia—little sausages, cut fruits, crackers, soft cheese, honey, and the kind of bits and pieces she likes stealing off everyone else's plate anyway.

And Kaia's excitement starts all over again. She thanks her so politely and with such genuine delight that the woman looks completely smitten.

Phi takes over immediately, of course.

Kaia is still planted firmly in his lap, one leg thrown over his thigh like she owns him, and he starts cutting up meat for her, slicing sausages into smaller pieces, cooling things before handing them to her.

She points to what she wants with complete authority and he feeds her between bites of his own.

Meanwhile I'm trying to stop Blue from deciding he's also entitled to first-class dining.

He's half out of my lap already, nose working overtime toward the boards, so I grab his chew from the bag and redirect him before he can launch a personal attack on Phi's charcuterie.

"Blue," I warn. "Not everything is for you."

Kaia, already chewing, looks down at him and solemnly says, "You have your own snacks."

Then, two seconds later, she tries to offer him a piece of sausage.

I catch her wrist. "No, baby. Not everything he can eat."

She pouts. "But he likes it."

"He likes everything. That doesn't mean he gets everything."

Phi snorts under his breath but says nothing, too busy holding a juice box for her while she drinks and then immediately points at the mango.

I shake my head and reach for my wine.

And Phi—my husband, my absurdly handsome mafia king in a polo shirt with our daughter hanging off his neck and my feet in his lap—just looks at both of us and smiles in that way he only ever does when he's surrounded by exactly what he loves most.

The beach hasn't even started yet.

And we're already exactly where we want to be.

Once the immediate chaos of feeding our child and restraining our dog settles, Phi and I fall into quieter conversation. Work first, because we can't help ourselves.

He fills me in on the issue at the site he left for yesterday, I tell him what's pending next week and what absolutely is not allowed to interrupt our beach weekend unless someone is literally dying.

Then we talk logistics.

From the airport we'll take the car to the pier, then the boat to the island. The helicopter would've been faster, but Kaia flat-out refused to leave Blue behind and neither of us is entirely sure how he'd handle the noise and weightlessness. So boat it is.

I don't mind.

Kaia certainly doesn't. She's listening with wide eyes, asking if the boat will be "big big" or just "normal big," and whether she'll be allowed to stand at the front "like in movies."

Phi tells her absolutely not.

She takes that as a starting point for negotiation, wrapping her little arms around his neck and doing that thing with her big eyes and a strategic pout.

"Dadaaa..."

She leans in until their foreheads touch. Phi cocks an eyebrow, trying to stay firm, but I know him. He'll fold. He always folds when she gets soft and clingy like this.

"No," he says again, but weaker this time.

Kaia gasps like he's wounded her. "But I'll be careful."

"I know you'll be careful," he says, one hand rubbing slowly up and down her back. "That doesn't mean you're standing at the front of a moving boat."

She blinks at him. "What if you hold me?"

He hesitates.

There it is...

I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't laugh.

Kaia sees it too. She presses in even closer, nose brushing his. "You're strong, Dada. You can hold me."

Phi narrows his eyes at her, because now he knows he's being played. "You're playing me."

She smiles sweetly. "A little bit."

That gets me. I laugh, turning in my seat to look at them properly.

Phi glances at me. "Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're smug."

"Because she's winning."

Kaia nods immediately. "I am."

Phi sighs, long-suffering, but his mouth is already twitching. "You can stand near the front."

She lights up so fast it's blinding.

"With me," he adds. "Holding you. For five minutes. And if you even think about leaning over, it's over."

Kaia throws her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek loudly. "Okay! Deal! Thank you, Dada!"

He catches her when she nearly launches herself off him in excitement and just shakes his head, defeated. "You're a menace."

She settles back in his lap, triumphant, and looks at me like she's conquered something important.

I raise my juice. "Congratulations, baby. You broke your father."

Phi snorts. "As if either of you ever needed help doing that."

Kaia pats his cheek kindly. "It's because you love us too much."

He looks at her for a second, all soft despite himself, then kisses her forehead. "Yeah, tiger. That's exactly why."

And just like that, the negotiation is over. Won, obviously, by the smallest person in the family.

I sit back and smile into the view outside, listening to Kaia immediately move on to planning her five minutes at the front of the boat, while Phi pretends he regrets giving in.

He doesn't.

He never does.

He tries feeding her a bit more until she shakes her head, full and completely done with food.

A second later she's wriggling off his lap, Blue bouncing after her, and starts running around the cabin like she's momentarily forgotten we're thirty thousand feet in the air.

Before I can call her back to order, Phi's already up.

He intercepts her in two steps, scooping her up against his chest, and she squeals and giggles like this was all part of her plan.

"You can't run around like that, baby," he says, settling back into his seat with her in his lap. "If there's turbulence, you're gonna hurt yourself."

She blinks up at him. "What's turbo—turb?"

I snort into my wine.

Phi looks far too amused with himself. "Turbulence, baby. It means when the plane suddenly shakes like this—" And then he shakes her just enough to demonstrate.

If he was trying to scare her, it has the exact opposite effect. She bursts into delighted laughter, squealing so hard Blue starts barking like he wants to join the game.

Phi just smirks, caught between pride and exasperation, and settles her more securely against him. "See? So no running."

She nods solemnly, clearly learning absolutely nothing.

"Just sit here and hang out with me, tiger. We're gonna land soon."

Then, because he knows exactly how to keep her still, he pulls out his iPad and opens one of her building games. Her whole face lights up.

He angles it between them and promises her rewards if she stays put and behaves.

"What rewards?" she asks immediately, eyes narrow with suspicion.

He kisses the top of her head. "Depends how good you are."

She thinks about that, then settles against him with Blue pushed up against her leg and the iPad balanced in both hands. "I'm gonna be very good."

"I'm sure you are," I murmur, already knowing he's going to end up giving her whatever she wants the second she flashes those eyes at him.

Phi catches my look and raises a brow like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. He probably does.

And for the next stretch of the flight, the cabin finally settles into something close to calm—Kaia engrossed in her game, Phi quietly helping her when she asks, Blue half asleep at their feet, and me watching all of it with that same ache I always get when my life feels too full to be real.

...

Twenty minutes to landing, I decide to use the toilet to freshen up a little. Fix my hair, rinse my hands, maybe look a bit less like I've been drinking wine, wrangling a 5 year old and a dog and staring at my husband all flight.

I'm just smoothing my shirt back into place when the door opens and Phi steps in, shutting it behind him like he owns every square inch of air around me.

Which, unfortunately, he thinks he does.

He crowds me immediately, hands going to my waist, his mouth already brushing mine before I can get a word out.

I roll my eyes, though I'm smiling into it. "Kaia?"

"Playing her game," he mutters, pulling me closer and kissing me properly now, slow and greedy. "Hate that this jet is too small for a bedroom."

I snort and push at his chest. "Yeah, and your daughter is like five feet away from you."

He just hums like that's a minor inconvenience, kisses me harder, one hand sliding up my back, the other gripping my hip like he's debating whether we have time to be reckless.

We do not.

I know it. He knows it. But that never stops him from trying.

Then—right on cue—there's a soft knock at the door.

"Papa? Dada?"

Phi groans against my lips and drops his forehead to mine. I laugh under my breath because really, what did he expect?

"Coming, baby," I call out, trying to smooth myself down while Phi steps back with reluctance like a man being dragged from heaven.

I fix my shirt, swipe my thumb over my mouth, and Phi opens the door first.

Kaia is standing there with huge suspicious eyes, looking between us in a way that tells me she absolutely knows she interrupted something, even if she doesn't know exactly what.

I clear my throat. Phi, to his credit, looks entirely composed by the time he asks, "Need something, tiger?"

She nods. "Uh-huh. I wanna pee."

He chuckles and steps aside, passing her off to me like this was all very normal and not at all him trying to corner me in an airplane bathroom.

I take her hand and guide her in while he heads back toward the cabin, but not before throwing me one last look over his shoulder—entirely too pleased with himself.

Ridiculous man.

...

It doesn't take long before we start descending, and I'm honestly surprised she's still awake. No nap, no crash. She still has endless, glittering energy and more questions about the ocean, the villa, the beach, the sand, the fish, the shells.

I know exactly how this ends.

The moment we get there and she sees everything, she'll run on pure adrenaline for another hour and then absolutely collapse. Hard.

Phi knows it too. I can tell from the way he keeps smoothing her hair back and looking at her like he's already calculating how far he'll have to carry her later.

By the time the wheels touch down, Kaia is pressed to the window again, gasping at everything outside, Blue alert in my lap, and Phi is already gathering bags and phones and all the little things we somehow brought for a weekend away.

I look at the two of them—my husband, my child, my ridiculous little family—and smile.

"Okay," I say, unbuckling. "Beach mode starts now."

Kaia squeals so loud the hostess laughs again, and Phi just shakes his head, already reaching for her.

Yeah.

She's definitely crashing the second we get there.

...

Just when I think we're finally about to get off the plane, Kaia peeks toward the cockpit and goes completely still.

Her eyes go huge.

One of the pilots notices immediately and smiles. "Do you want to come sit in for a second?"

She doesn't move, doesn't even breathe. Just turns and looks at Phi first, silently asking if she really can.

He smiles and nods once. "Go on, tiger."

That's all she needs.

She grins and darts in, then—true to form—stops herself the second she gets close to anything important. Hands behind her back.

No grabbing or climbing anything, just pointing and staring and asking questions with self-control as a child who's been raised under one very specific rule: no touching adult things.

And she follows it perfectly.

The pilots are clearly impressed. One of them shows her a few controls, explains what things are, what they do, and she just listens like she's been handed state secrets.

"What's that one?"

"What does that do?"

"So this makes the plane go up?"

Her voice is full of awe. Pure wonder.

And then, with complete conviction, she announces, "I'm going to be an architect and a pilot now."

I laugh under my breath, but Phi—Phi just nods like this is the most reasonable thing in the world.

"Of course you can," he says.

Because that's how he is with her. Like there's nothing she can't have, nothing she can't become, nothing in this world too big for her to reach.

Eventually, he nudges her gently. "We have to go, baby."

She sighs like this is a personal tragedy, but turns back immediately to thank the crew. Properly and sweetly. The air hostess, the pilots—everyone gets a polite smile and a "thank you," and they're all charmed beyond help by the time she's done.

"We can't wait to have you again," one of them says.

Kaia beams.

Then we step out into the heat.

I take her hand automatically, fingers wrapping around hers as we reach the stairs.

Phi is already ahead of us carrying Blue, but he looks back over his shoulder and asks, "Do you want me to carry you, baby, or can you make it down the stairs?"

She wrinkles her nose at that, offended by the very suggestion. "I can do it, Dada."

He chuckles and keeps going, moving down first so he's waiting at the bottom. I guide her carefully, one step at a time, holding her hand while she concentrates with that serious little face she gets when she's determined to do something herself.

And the moment she reaches the bottom, Phi opens one arm, and she goes straight into it.

"Good job, baby," he murmurs.

She grins, proud of herself.

Our cars are already waiting, luggage loaded, security moving around us with quiet efficiency.

The whole thing is seamless, polished—exactly how Phi likes it. He gets Kaia into her car seat, settles Blue with her, makes sure they're both secure, then comes around to my side.

He opens the door, offers me his hand, and when I take it he leans in and kisses me before helping me inside.