Chapter 29

Rain's POV

It's another hour's drive to Laem Sok Pier, and somewhere along the road I can already feel Koh Kood starting to work on me. The air changes first. Softer, saltier. The kind of air that makes your shoulders drop with ease. I lean back into the seat and let it happen.

Phi gets a call from Win and answers through his earpiece, voice low and clipped as they talk security, staffing, whatever last-minute thing Win decided needed reporting. I let it wash over me.

Kaia's in the back chatting to Blue like he's part of the family meeting, telling him all the things they're going to do once they get there.

I pull out my phone and snap a few photos—Kaia half in frame, sunlight on her curls, Blue's nose pressed to the window. I send them to Sky and Papa because they'll lose their minds over how cute she looks anyway.

At some point the chatter dies down.

I glance back and there she is, finally gone still, head slumped to the side in her seat, lashes on her cheeks. Out cold.

Phi notices it too. His expression softens in that way it only ever does for me and her.

"I thought she was going to keep going," he says quietly.

I laugh under my breath. "One hour in a car is long for anybody. She took it like a champ."

By the time we reach the ferry, she's still asleep. I take Blue while Phi lifts her out of her seat with practiced ease. She stirs when he moves her, just enough to murmur and burrow deeper into his shoulder, then goes right back under.

We go through the private service entrance—bags handled, men moving fast, everything arranged before we even have to think about it.

The boat is already waiting, sleek and polished, our things being loaded aboard as if the whole island has been holding its breath for us to arrive.

Once we board, the slight shift underfoot must wake her more properly because she lifts her head from Phi's neck, dazed and warm from sleep.

"Dada?" she mumbles.

Phi kisses her temple. "Tiger? You're awake. We're on the boat, baby. Wanna see?"

She blinks, then straightens, suddenly remembering where we are. "The boat?"

"The boat," I confirm, smiling as I step closer with Blue in my arms.

Her whole face lights up.

Phi walks her to the side, one arm secure around her middle while she leans just enough to look out over the water. The sea stretches ahead of us, bright and endless, the breeze catching at her curls immediately.

She gasps. "Papa! It's so big!"

I laugh and move beside them. "That's usually how seas work, baby."

She ignores that completely, all her focus on the water, the sky, the sensation of movement under us. Blue squirms until I set him down, and he goes straight to Phi's legs, pressing against them like he's making sure all his people are accounted for.

Kaia points at everything. The waves. Another boat in the distance. The gulls. The sun on the water like silver broken into pieces. Phi answers every question she throws at him, patient and indulgent, while I just stand there and watch them.

And this—this moment right here—feels like the trip starting.

Kaia turns and looks at us both, grinning so wide it almost hurts to see.

Phi passes Kaia to me once we're settled in the cabin and goes off to speak with the captain and the onboard staff, already slipping into that mode of his—quietly checking, confirming, controlling every detail so the rest of us never have to think about them.

I look down at Kaia. "Need to pee, baby?"

She nods immediately, so we head to the bathroom first, and when we come back we settle with Blue curled at our feet, waiting for Phi to finish whatever serious, boring things he's doing.

The cabin is luxurious and calm, the hum of the boat gentle under us. I pull out my phone and we start taking silly pictures—Blue's nose too close to the lens, Kaia making dramatic model faces, me pretending to be scandalized by all of it.

Then we start planning. Outfits for dinner, swimsuits for tomorrow, which sandals go with which dress, what she wants to do first once we get to the villa.

"We have a whole weekend," she says dreamily, like that's the most luxurious thing in the world.

"We do," I agree, smiling.

And somewhere between deciding whether she wants the pink cover-up or the white one tomorrow morning, I just look at her—really look at her. Wind-tangled curls, bright eyes, the little sun-flushed cheeks she got from me, the ease in her face when it's just us.

I reach over and smooth a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You know you're my best friend, baby, right?" I say softly. "I love doing everything with you."

She grins so wide it almost knocks me out, then throws herself at me hard enough to make me laugh as I catch her. "You're my best friend too, Papa," she says into my neck. Then, with complete betrayal, "More than Lilly."

That gets a real laugh out of me, the kind that stings behind my eyes because tears are already there.

I hold her tighter.

I don't know how long I'll have this version of her. This one who still climbs into my lap without thinking, who still tells me everything, who still looks at me like I'm half the world.

I know how I was. I know what happened when I got older as a teenager—how I pulled away, got reckless, got wild, got proud. How I circled back only when adulthood sanded some of the edges down.

Maybe she'll do that too. Maybe she'll turn wild for a while. Maybe she'll choose silence over softness for a few years. Maybe she won't.

But whatever version of her I get, I'll love it.

All of it.

The clingy little girl.The difficult teenager.The grown woman with her own mind, her own secrets, her own life.

Every single version.

I kiss the side of her head and whisper, "That's very brave of you to rank me above Lilly."

She pulls back just enough to look at me, scandalized. "Papa. You're obviously first."

I laugh again and wipe under one eye before the tears fall properly. "Good answer."

Blue huffs in his sleep at our feet and Kaia drops her hand down to rub his ears absentmindedly. Then she looks up at me, suddenly serious.

"Even when I'm big, I'm still gonna be your best friend."

That nearly undoes me completely.

I pull her back into me, holding her close while the boat moves steadily toward the island and the sea stretches around us, endless and bright.

"Yeah, baby," I murmur into her hair. "Even when you're big."

By the time Phi comes back down, Kaia shoots up like she's been waiting all her life for his return. She runs straight into him and he scoops her up in one smooth motion, burying his face in her neck.

"Miss me, tiger?"

She giggles and nods hard, already pointing out things around the cabin like she personally discovered them. He lets her narrate the whole lower deck to him like it's a palace tour, and then he looks at me.

"Y'okay, beautiful?"

I smile and nod. "Mm. Just a very long journey."

He reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers, gentle and absent like he can't not touch me. "I'm sorry, baby. We'll be there soon."

I nod again, and he leans in to kiss me, slow and warm. Then again, because one kiss was apparently not enough. His mouth brushes my ear and he whispers, "Can't wait to roll around in the sand with you."

I grin before I can stop myself and slap his chest lightly. "Go away."

He grins wider, clearly about to say something obscene and deeply unnecessary while our daughter is literally in his arms, but Kaia beats him to it.

"Dada, I wanna see the water."

He turns to her instantly. "Yeah?"

She nods, eyes huge.

I roll my eyes, clip Blue's leash on, and we head up to the deck.

And when we step out...

God.

There really isn't a word big enough for it.

Endless blue. Not just sea, but sky too, both so bright and wide they almost blur into each other. Islands in the distance, green and rising out of the water like they were painted there. Mountains farther off, softened by haze. Sunlight breaking over everything.

Kaia stops dead and breathes out a reverent, "Woah."

Phi stands with her, both of them just staring. She starts pointing immediately—at islands, at boats, at clouds, asking questions in bursts.

He answers every one, low and patient, like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

I sink into one of the lounge chairs, sunglasses on, Blue settling at my feet, and take out my phone.

I start taking pictures—Kaia's curls blowing wild in the wind, Phi with his hair half loose and his hand still resting on her back, the sea in front of them turning both of them into something cinematic and impossible.

I already know these are going straight into my collection, the endless archive of them I keep and never stop adding to.

Because nothing—nothing—beats this.

Being able to give something like this to your child. Watching her love it without reserve. Watching her feel the world open up in front of her and knowing you had a hand in that joy.

Kaia turns and waves at me, shouting, "Papa, take one of me and Dada!"

I laugh and lift the phone higher. "I already am, baby."

And I am.

I'll keep taking them too. Every version of them. Every stupid beautiful moment I can steal and save.

Because one day she'll be older, too cool to cling to her father's hand and too busy to ask for a hundred photos on a boat to the beach.

One day Phi's hair will have more silver than dark in it and he'll still look at her like she hung the moon, but she'll be walking ahead of us instead of between us.

So yeah.

I'll take every picture.

And I'll love every second of it.

Phayu's POV

My family is my life. There's no question about that. Everything I am bends around them.

I lift Kaia into my arms and bury my face in her soft cheek, breathing her in like I need it to survive. She smells like sunscreen already, like her shampoo, like sugar and sea air and childhood.

She's all excitement and innocence, pointing at islands and mountains like she's seeing one of her storybooks open up in real life.

I look over at Rain stretched out on the lounge chair, sunglasses on, phone in hand, pretending he's not taking a hundred pictures of us.

He's smiling and I feel it again—this brutal, impossible fullness in my chest.

Nothing I love more than giving them the world.

No matter how excessive it looks to everybody else. The plane, the boat, the villa waiting for us on a private island. The endless spoiling, the security, the care, the obsession of it all.

I don't care.

They're the reason I'm alive. They're the reason I work. They're the reason I'll keep doing whatever it takes to protect what's mine.

Kaia pulls back then, turning in my arms so she can look at me properly. Her big brown eyes shine up at me, all wonder and mischief.

She looks so much like Rain it still catches me off guard sometimes—same softness, same light—but there's me in her too. The stubbornness. The fire. The certainty.

"I can't wait for the beach, Dada."

I smile and tap her nose lightly with my finger before kissing it. "Me too, tiger. You gonna build me a castle?"

She gasps, deeply offended by the very idea that I would ask something so obvious. "A huge one."

"Bigger than Papa's?"

"Way bigger than Papa's."

Rain lowers his sunglasses just enough to look at us. "Excuse me?"

Kaia twists in my arms to yell at him across the deck. "Yours can be pretty, Papa. Dada's is going to be big."

I laugh before I can help it, tightening my hold on her while Rain just stares at both of us like he's been personally betrayed.

"Wow," he says dryly. "So I'm getting architecture criticism from my own child now?"

Kaia nods seriously. "You make nice things. Dada makes scary things."

That sends me into a full grin.

Rain points his phone at us again, probably catching the exact moment I look unbearably pleased with myself. "Good. Keep smiling. I'm saving this for when she starts insulting your sandcastle skills in thirty minutes."

"She won't," I say.

Kaia leans in and whispers loudly enough for Rain to hear, "I might."

I kiss her cheek, shaking my head. "Traitor."

She just laughs, arms around my neck again, and I hold her tighter while the boat cuts through the water toward the island.

The sun is warm, the sea is endless. My husband is beautiful and watching us. My daughter is safe in my arms.

And for this one perfect stretch of time, nothing else exists.

I say it into her hair, half teasing, half not.

"You can't grow up too fast, tiger. It's going to hurt my heart."

She pulls back just enough to look at me, all solemn eyes and windblown curls, like I've handed her a serious problem she now has to solve.

Then her little hands come up to hold my face—same way she's always done, like she needs my full attention when she says something important.

"I'll grow up slow then," she says.

And that—God—that nearly takes me out.

Rain laughs softly from the lounge chair, phone still in his hand, but even he sounds wrecked by it.

I kiss her forehead, then each cheek, because I can. "Yeah?"

Kaia nods seriously. "Yeah. I'll stay little for a long time. But only a little big, because I still want to do cool things."

I grin. "That's fair."

She leans in and whispers like it's a secret only I'm allowed to hear. "Even when I'm big, I'll still let you carry me sometimes."

That does it.

I close my eyes for a second and pull her tight against me, breathing her in again. "You better," I murmur.

Rain lowers his phone fully now, smiling at both of us in that soft way of his that always gets under my skin. "You're both ridiculous."

Kaia twists in my arms to look at him. "Papa, you have to grow up slow too."

Rain snorts. "Baby, that ship has sailed."

She thinks about that, then points at him. "Okay, but don't get too old."

I laugh outright. Rain just stares at her, scandalized.

"Wow," he says. "So that's where we're at now?"

Kaia nods like she's laid down a perfectly reasonable rule. Then she pulls back immediately, grabs my face in both hands, and plants a series of loud, wet kisses all over me—my lips, my cheeks, my nose, my forehead.

"And you have to kiss me and Papa forever," she says very seriously, "and take us shopping and to beaches and to get ice cream."

I laugh, helpless, while Rain makes a soft offended sound from beside us like he's being left out of a contract negotiation that very clearly concerns him too.

"That's a lot of demands, tiger," I tell her, stealing another kiss from her cheek.

She squints at me. "Can you do it?"

Rain snorts. "Baby, he absolutely can. He can do anything for us."

I look over at my husband, smug in his sunglasses and linen and sunlight, and then back at my daughter, who's waiting for an answer like this is the most important deal I'll ever sign.

So I nod. "Yeah. I can do it."

Kaia beams. "Good."

Rain steps closer then, sliding one hand over my side, and thr other over her back, pulling himself into us until we're one ridiculous little cluster of limbs and warmth on the deck. "I'd like it noted," he says dryly, "that I also expect to be kissed forever."

Kaia turns to him instantly. "Obviously, Papa."

"Obviously," I repeat, amused.

"And shopping," she continues, counting on her fingers now. "And beaches. And ice cream. And boat rides. And bike rides. And donuts sometimes."

Rain raises a brow. "Sometimes?"

She thinks. "A lot of times."

I kiss her temple. "You drive a hard bargain."

She pats my cheek like I'm the difficult one here. "It's because I'm your little storm."

Rain actually laughs at that, head tipping back a little in the sea breeze. "God, she knows exactly what she's doing."

Of course she does.

Kaia leans out of my arms just enough to grab Rain's face too and gives him the same treatment she gave me—big loud kisses all over his mouth and cheeks until he's laughing and trying to save his sunglasses from getting knocked off.

Blue barks once at our feet like he's deeply offended no one negotiated treats for him.

Kaia looks down at him, then back at us with a gasp. "Blue too."

Rain nods. "Yes. Blue too."

I groan. "The dog is not getting ice cream."

"He can get special dog ice cream," Kaia says immediately.

Rain points at her. "That's my daughter."

I look at both of them, impossible and beautiful and so certain that the world should give them everything, and I know I'm done for. Completely and forever.

So I tighten my hold on Kaia, pull Rain in closer with my free arm, and kiss both of them just because I can.

"Fine," I say. "Forever kisses. Shopping. Beaches. Ice cream. All of it."

Kaia cheers so loudly I'm pretty sure the captain hears it.

Rain just smiles at me—that soft, devastating smile and standing there with the sea all around us, my daughter in my arms and my husband against my side, I know there's nothing in this world I won't do to keep giving them exactly that.

******

Before long we get to the villa, still hidden behind the line of trees so we can't see it yet from the dock, but the lit walkways are already glowing through the leaves and Kaia sees them immediately.

"There! Dada look, lights!"

The staff are already waiting on the beach by the time the boat steadies, lined up and ready to help us off.

Everything moves fast—hands reaching for bags, quiet greetings, practiced efficiency—but all I'm really focused on is getting my family off safely without Kaia throwing herself straight into the sea.

Rain and I greet the staff, both of us trying to talk and hold Kaia back at the same time, because she's already leaning toward the water like it's calling her by name.

Blue's whining too, front paws pressed against the edge of the boat, tail going like mad.

By the time I get Kaia off the boat and onto the beach, she squeals so loud it echoes.

"Yes! The beach! Papa, look!"

And before I can even answer, she's taking off.

Rain laughs and immediately goes after her. "Hold on, baby. Remember you can't go into the water alone."

She slows just enough to avoid a lecture, but only just. Blue pulls against the leash beside them, losing his mind over the sand and the waves and the smell of everything.

I step off the boat behind them, shoes in one hand, eyes on the two of them the whole time.

The beach is absurdly beautiful. Clean pale sand stretching out under the fading light, the ocean dark blue and endless in front of us, the villa still hidden up behind the palms like some secret we haven't earned yet.

The path lights wind upward into the trees, warm and golden, and the whole place looks unreal.

Kaia stands at the edge where the foam keeps curling in, bouncing from foot to foot. Rain catches up and crouches beside her, one hand on her back.

"You wait for us first, remember?"

"I know," she says quickly, but she's still grinning so hard I know she barely heard him.

Blue decides waiting is for losers and lunges at the first wave, then jumps back when the water splashes him. Kaia screams laughing. Rain does too. I can't help smiling as I get closer.

Kaia turns at the sound of my footsteps and throws her arms out immediately. "Dada! Come!"

I go to her, then bend and lift her into my arms, wet little sandals and all, and she hooks her arms around my neck while still twisting to look at the water.

"It's huge," she whispers, quieter now, awe replacing the wild excitement for just a second.

"I know, tiger," I murmur, kissing her temple. "Beautiful, yeah?"

She nods hard.

Rain comes up beside us, barefoot now, trousers rolled up slightly, Blue twisting around his legs as he tries to decide whether he loves or hates the sea.

The staff keep a polite distance, already moving our luggage up toward the villa, leaving us this first moment untouched.

Kaia points out at the horizon. "Can we swim now?"

Rain snorts beside me. "Absolutely not."

"Can we later?"

"Yes," I say, before she can start bargaining. "later."

That satisfies her for about three seconds.

Then she points toward the glowing path through the trees. "Is that our house?"

Rain smiles. "For the weekend, yes baby."

"Our beach house," she says proudly, like she bought it herself.

I laugh under my breath and shift her higher on my hip. "Sure, tiger. Your beach house."

Blue barks again at a wave and Kaia starts laughing so hard she almost slips out of my arms.

Rain grabs at her instinctively even though I've got her, and standing there, ankle-deep in sand, my daughter in my arms, my husband beside me, the villa waiting just behind the trees—

I know we're here.

Really here.

Exactly where they wanted to be.

RAIN'S POV

We take the buggy up to the villa and it's—God—it's incredible.

I usually leave planning things like this to Phi, because he'd rather die than not give me and Kaia the best of everything, and every single time he delivers so hard it almost irritates me.

The place is stunning. Open and airy, all warm wood and soft lights and impossible views, the sea stretching out behind the trees like it belongs to us too.

It's huge, ridiculously huge for just the three of us and a dog, but that's very much my husband's style. If he can go excessive for us, he will.

Kaia barely waits for the buggy to stop before she's wriggling down from Phi's arms, spinning in place and gasping at every corner.

"Papa! Look at this!"

"Dada, our house should have this!"

"Can we move here?"

I laugh and follow her inside while Blue charges ahead. She's already talking about redesigning the estate, adding bridges and pools and tree paths and "more beach colors," whatever that means.

Then we hear a car outside. Doors. Voices.

And before I can even think to ask who—"Uncle Win!"

Kaia shrieks and takes off.

Win steps through the doors just in time to catch her as she throws herself at him.

He grins, lifting her easily and kissing her temple while she chatters at him a mile a minute about the boat and the beach and the villa and how big her room is going to be.

Behind me, I hear Phi exhales. "Of course he came."

I turn to look at him. "You sent him."

He looks offended by the accuracy of that. "Security."

"Mm."

Win carries Kaia farther in like he lives here, already letting her drag him into the tour of a place she's seen for three seconds. Blue circles his legs, barking once in approval. Typical.

I slip my arms around Phi's waist from behind, rest my cheek between his shoulder blades, and smile as I watch them go. "You really can't help yourself, can you?"

He reaches back without looking and covers my hands with one of his. "No."

And honestly? Good.

Kaia comes back in with Win, both of them grinning like they've already formed an alliance against me, and before I can even say anything, Phi tugs me back into him, arms heavy and possessive around my waist.

Then he glares at Win. "What are you doing here?"

That shithead just grins wider. "Came to see my goddaughter on vacation, of course. Hear all about her trip."

I feel Phi roll his eyes against my shoulder.

Still, he asks the right questions. Security, perimeter, who's on rotation, whether everything's locked down. Win answers without missing a beat, and by the time he's done, I know we're sealed in tight. Good.

I tug on Phi's arm immediately. "Entertain her for a bit," I tell Win, already dragging my husband away before he can say anything else.

Kaia doesn't even care. She's too busy trying to show Win the view and introduce him to the concept of "our beach house."

I'm already halfway up the stairs, giggling, pulling Phi behind me. His hand catches mine and then my waist and then he's chasing me properly, both of us opening doors as we go like overexcited children.

Kaia's excitement has completely gotten into me.

Every room is ridiculous. Indoor saunas. Open spaces giving straight out into the ocean. Glass and wood and white linen and salt air and soft lighting and everything impossibly beautiful. We keep pushing into new rooms just to gasp at them, laugh, and move on to the next.

Phi's laughing now too, fully infected by it, and every time I stop too long to stare at something, he crowds into me from behind and kisses my neck like he's trying to claim even this.

We finally push open the master bedroom doors and—God.

It's insane.

The bed is enormous, dressed in white and cream, facing wide glass doors that open directly toward the ocean. There's an outdoor bath set into the deck, a private pool beyond that, gauzy curtains stirring in the breeze, every surface soft and expensive and curated within an inch of its life.

I step in slowly, turning in a circle just to take all of it in.

"Phi," I breathe, laughing under it. "This is absurd."

"That's a compliment," he says from behind me.

I turn, still smiling, and he's just standing there watching me. Polo shirt a little rumpled now, sunglasses gone, hair coming loose, hands in his pockets like he didn't just bring me and our daughter to a private island villa that looks like something out of a fantasy.

I walk back to him and slide my hands up his chest. "You're ridiculous."

"You like ridiculous."

"I love ridiculous."

He hums like he knew that already and drops his hands to my waist. "Good."

I glance back toward the open doors, the ocean beyond, the whole impossible view. "Kaia's never going to want to leave."

"Neither are you."

I look at him again. "That depends."

His brows lift. "On what?"

I smile slowly, stepping into him fully now. "On whether you behave."

He laughs once, low and warm, and leans down until his forehead rests against mine. "In this bedroom?"

I drag my fingers into his hair. "And everywhere else."

That gets me the look—the one that says he's already half gone and just waiting for me to push. His grip on my waist tightens, and for one suspended second it's just us, the sea, the air, his body, mine.

Then, faintly from downstairs: "Papa! Dada! Uncle Win says there's like 5 pools!"

I close my eyes and laugh.

Phi groans into my neck. "I'm killing him."

"No you're not."

"I'm thinking about it."

I kiss the corner of his mouth and step back before he can pull me in too deep. "Come on. We have a child and a dog and your emotional support menace downstairs."

He rolls his eyes. "And they'll still be there in five minutes. Come here."

Before I can laugh properly, he catches me around the waist and throws me back onto the bed. I squeal, giggling as I try to scramble away, but he's on me in a second, caging me in, straddling my hips like he owns the entire room and me with it.

I slow beneath him, smiling up at him, and loop my arms around his neck. "Hi, Phi."

His mouth softens. "Hi, beautiful."

There's so much fondness in the way he says it that my chest aches. I reach up and touch his face. "Thank you. For giving us this."

He leans down and kisses me, soft and sure. "Don't thank me for loving you." Another kiss, slower this time. "Thank you for giving me you. For giving me her. For letting me love you."

And that...God. That gets me every time.

My heart goes molten. I pull him down and kiss him properly, pouring everything I feel into it. Gratitude. Love. Home. He answers instantly, harder, deeper, one hand buried beside my head while the other slides to my waist.

I run my fingers into his hair, find the band, and tug it loose. It slips free and his hair falls around us like a curtain.

I smile against his mouth. "You gonna leave this down this weekend?"

He pauses just enough to look at me. "You want me to?"

I nod.

He blinks once, like he's committing it to law. "Down it is."

I laugh softly and pull him back to me just as he leans in again...

And then the bedroom door bursts open.

Kaia comes flying in with Blue right behind her, both of them launching at full speed toward the bed.

"Papa! Dada! Look at this room!"

Phi swears under his breath and just barely manages to catch our daughter before she knees me in the ribs. Blue, meanwhile, makes it onto the mattress and starts stomping in frantic circles over the duvet.

I'm laughing too hard to breathe.

Kaia lands half on Phi and half on me, wild curls everywhere, eyes bright with excitement. "There's another pool! And Uncle Win said this bed is big enough for ten people!"

Phi closes his eyes for one beat, face turned toward the ceiling like he's asking God for strength.

"It is not," he says flatly.

"It is!" Kaia insists, bouncing once for emphasis.

Blue barks in agreement.

I'm still laughing when Phi looks down at me, betrayed and resigned all at once. "This is your fault."

"How?" I gasp out."I was on the bed under you, Phi. I wasn't encouraging anything."

Kaia looks between us suspiciously. "What were you doing?"

Phi answers immediately, deadpan. "Inspecting the mattress."

I choke.

Kaia nods like that makes perfect sense. "Is it good?"

"The best," I manage, wiping at my eyes.

She beams, satisfied, then grabs both our hands. "Come see the bathrooms! And the outside bath! And the couches! And Uncle Win says there's a secret path and I think Blue already found it!"

Phi groans softly and drops his forehead to my shoulder for half a second before sitting up, taking Kaia with him. His hair is everywhere now, loose over his shoulders and down his back, exactly the way I wanted.

Before Kaia can drag us out of the room and straight down to the beach, I stop both of them with a look.

"If you're going down to the beach, sunscreen first."

They groan in perfect sync.

I just point. "Sit."

Kaia flops dramatically onto the edge of the bed. Phi leans against the dresser like he's considering rebellion, then thinks better of it when I open my bag and pull the sunscreen out.

"Don't make me repeat myself," I warn.

That gets him moving.

I change Kaia quickly first, tugging her into a little beach set while she keeps talking about the water and the sand and Blue and how she's going to make a castle taller than the villa. Then Phi strips off his shirt and I have to school my face because—God.

All that tattooed, muscled torso right in front of me.

He catches the look and the bastard smirks.

I narrow my eyes at him. "You're very smug for someone about to be slathered like a toddler."

"I know you enjoy it."

I ignore that and squeeze sunscreen into my palm. "Sit."

He does, still grinning, stretching out like he's doing me a favor. I start with him, rubbing it across his shoulders, down his arms, over his chest.

He watches me the entire time, completely shameless, and I swear he leans into my hands just to make it worse.

Kaia starts giggling before I even get to her.

"Papa, you're rubbing Dada like Blue."

I snort. Phi laughs. "Your papa likes taking care of me."

"I like not letting your skin burn," I correct.

Then I move to Kaia, who wiggles immediately, laughing and trying to twist away while I rub sunscreen onto her little arms, her shoulders, her face, her legs.

Phi starts helping for all of five seconds before the two of them begin rubbing the leftover sunscreen on each other like it's a game.

I groan. "You're both ridiculous."

Kaia squeals. Phi looks delighted with himself. And somehow I still get the job done.

Eventually.

By the time we head down to the beach, the whole place is still breathtaking.

The water, the sand, the wind, the soft cabanas set back just enough from the shore, stocked with chilled fruit juice and mimosas and little bowls of nuts and snacks. It's all absurdly perfect.

Phi takes Kaia by both hands and runs with her straight into the water. She's laughing so hard it rings across the whole stretch of beach.

He drags her in, then back out, then scoops her up and tosses her just enough to make her shriek before throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her deeper into the surf.

"Dada!" she screams, delighted.

He only laughs and keeps going until he finally pulls her down with him and dunks them both.

She comes up sputtering and ecstatic.

That's when my phone rings.

Video call. Sky and Papa.

I smile and answer, angling the screen so they get the full effect of the beach first—water, sunlight, the cabanas, the endless view.

"Show-offs," Papa says immediately.

Sky laughs. "That's gorgeous."

I flip the camera and show them the villa behind me, tell them about the house, the rooms, the paths, the pool, all of it, while they react exactly the way I expected—jealous, dramatic, and thoroughly entertained.

Then I turn the phone back toward the water just as Phi lifts Kaia up again and she screams with laughter all over his shoulder.

Sky melts instantly. "Oh, she's having the time of her life."

"She is," I say, smiling.

Papa hums. "And your husband?"

I zoom in just enough to catch Phi's face turning toward us, wet hair pushed back, shoulders slick with seawater, daughter in his arms.

Sky lets out a low whistle. "Rude."

Papa narrows his eyes at the view. "Why does that man always look better shirtless than everyone else on earth?"

I snort and switch the camera back to myself. "Because he's deeply annoying."

"Liar," Papa says immediately. "You sound in love."

"I am in love."

Sky sighs dreamily. "Cute."

I laugh and hang up not long after, promising them pictures, because I already know I'm taking too many and loving every second of it.

The second the call ends, Kaia turns in the water and cups her hands around her mouth.

"Papa! Come!"

Phi looks back too, one arm still wrapped around her, the other lifted in a lazy beckon.

And well.

How am I supposed to say no to that?

I join them and the three of us lose ourselves in it.

The water is warm, the waves playful enough to knock Kaia sideways without scaring her, and Blue is absolutely losing his mind—jumping at the surf, barking at the foam, and circling us.

Phi keeps catching Kaia every time she stumbles, lifting her, splashing her, dragging her through the shallows until she's shrieking with delight.

My chest tightens just watching them.

Her joy is so bright and Phi's face—God. Phi is actually relaxed. Loose. Carefree in a way he rarely lets himself be. No phone in his hand, no clipped orders, weight in his shoulders. He's just a husband and a father in the sea with our daughter, soaked through and laughing.

After a while, we make our way back to the sand. Phi and I sit with our legs stretched out, and I settle between his legs without thinking, leaning back into his chest while Kaia wanders off a few feet away to build something elaborate in the sand.

Blue hovers around her like a sandy golden bodyguard, occasionally stomping right through her work and earning dramatic scoldings.

Phi's arms fold around me loosely. We watch the horizon in silence for a while, the sea breathing in and out in front of us, the light going softer, warmer. He kisses the side of my neck, once, twice, then just rests his mouth there.

I can feel the calm in both of us.

This year has been a lot.

Too much, sometimes.

Fear, blood, close calls, long nights, the kind of things that leave bruises even when there aren't any marks to show for it.

But at the end of it—no matter what comes—we'll always have this.

Each other.

I tilt my head back and look up at him. His eyes are on Kaia first, always, watching her shape the sand with fierce concentration, the wind moving gently through his hair.

Then he looks down at me and I smile.

He brushes his nose against mine and asks quietly, "You good, beautiful?"

I nod.

He leans in and kisses me, slow and soft, and I whisper against his mouth, "We're more than good."

That's when Kaia comes tearing back toward us, full speed, crashing into me with sandy knees and endless enthusiasm.

"Papa! Dada! Look!" she says, words tumbling over themselves. "It's a villa and it has stairs and walls and a big room and another pool and it's strong just like Dada's houses!"

I laugh, and Phi actually huffs one too behind me, his chin dropping to my shoulder.

"Strong walls, huh?" he says.

She nods seriously. "And pretty too. Like Papa."

That gets me, I pull her down between us, kiss her forehead, and she keeps talking—about towers, and secret paths, and how Blue is the security team for her sand villa now.

Eventually she burns herself out, all that excitement softening into warm, happy quiet.

She ends up half draped over me, half leaning against Phi, and the three of us sit there on the beach while the sky slowly deepens and the sea keeps moving in front of us like it has all the time in the world.

Phi slides a hand into my hair, gently gathering it back so he can kiss me properly. Then, against my lips, against the wind and the sea and the fading light,

he whispers, "You can't ever leave me."

I smile, because years later and it's still the same.

"Where would I go?"

He kisses me again.

And with our daughter warm against us, the ocean in front of us, and the whole weekend still waiting, it feels like the only ending I'll ever want.

Epilogue

Eight years later...

Phayu's PoV

I watch my daughter level her aim and fire at the moving target. Bullseye. She reloads like it's second nature—clean, efficient—and moves to the throwing knives.

One, two, three, all sink in with a satisfying thud. Saifah lets out a whistle. Win mutters a curse under his breath, grinning like a proud idiot.

She's thirteen.

Thirteen, and already lethal.

I don't say anything. Just cross my arms and track her every move. She's faster now. Sharper.

I blink and I don't see my baby anymore—I see a force of nature, eyes steady, breathing calm, moving with the confidence of someone born to dominate every arena she steps into.

She tears the blindfold off, spins toward us with a grin, and Win and Saifah erupt in cheers.

I shake my head. "You're all enabling her."

"She's a prodigy," Saifah says, smirking. "That's genetics, not enablement."

I roll my eyes but I'm not denying it. She's doing everything now—knives, guns, arrows. Rain's been teaching her stealth and hand-to-hand. And it shows.

I should feel concern watching a thirteen-year-old master a .22 and three different combat blades. But all I feel is awe.

And a pang of something else, time slipping away.

I remember when she was three, begging to sleep on my chest. I remember when she was seven, pouting in Rain's arms after I grounded her for sneaking off to the races with Win and Saifah.

I try not to remember when she was five. When Rocky existed as more than just an old, annoying footnote in our story.

But this girl?

This girl is still mine. Ours. The best thing we ever made.

She bounces up to me, blonde hair bouncing behind her in a tight braid. "Dad! I hit all my targets!"

Her cheeks are flushed with pride and sweat. I wrap an arm around her shoulder, and kiss her temple.

"I saw, tiger. You were incredible. You're gonna beat me and Papa soon."

"Already can," she says with a grin too cocky for her age.

I remember it like it was yesterday. A few months after she turned six, she started calling me "Dad." Just like that. Like it was the most natural shift in the order of things.

It gutted me.

Not in a bad way—not really. But in the way that reminds you time is moving, slipping fast. My little girl, the one who used to curl up against my chest with tiny fingers clinging to my shirt, was growing.

Finding her own voice, her own words. And that word—"Dad"—it hit like a beautiful punch.

Rain was out that evening, tied up with one of the quiet, bloody parts of our world. Just me and Kaia, like we always did on our days—matching hoodies, movie snacks, some ridiculous action flick she picked.

And halfway through it, she just leaned into me, wrapped her arms around my waist and said, real soft, like a secret: "You'll always be my Dada. Forever."

I couldn't speak. I just kissed the top of her head and held her a little tighter, swallowing the lump in my throat.

She can call me anything. Dad, Dada, Tiger Trainer, Monster Slayer, The storm.I'll answer to all of it.Because she's mine. And I'll always be hers.

And that's when Rain steps into the light.

White silk again. Always white, always soft and still somehow untouchably fierce. His blonde hair's longer, his beauty edged in maturity, but he's still small enough to fold into my arms.

Still my rain, my salvation.

He looks at Kaia, then at me. "She's showing off again?"

"She earned it," I murmur, eyes not leaving him.

He walks up to her, kisses her forehead, then gives me a knowing smile. And just like that, I remember why we made her.

Why we're still here. Why this family—the assassin, the mafia boss, and the thirteen-year-old with a ten-ring kill zone—is the only thing I'll ever need.

Rain's PoV

I lean against the column, watching Kaia with her father—her dad, not dada anymore, sadly—and there's a calm that settles over me. She's growing fast. Smart, graceful, dangerous.

Getting her to start training wasn't a battle. She's been raised around blades, guns, quiet commands, and men who'd burn down cities for her. Violence isn't foreign to her. Power isn't either.

It's in her blood, In her bones.

Still, she's very much her father's daughter. He's her axis—her calm, her storm, her impossible standard. And she chases after his approval with a determination that makes me both proud and nervous.

I watch them now—Phi crouched to adjust her stance, murmuring corrections only she can hear, and Kaia nodding like she's absorbing gospel.

Phi looks good. Still so stupidly handsome it makes my chest ache. The years have only refined him—shoulders broader, hair longer, more silver in the strands near his temples, but his presence hasn't dulled a bit.

He still fills every space he steps into like he owns the air itself.

We later told Kaia the truth. The real truth behind all the trainings. That her dad isn't just the renowned architect behind half the skyline of Bangkok. That he's also the leader of the biggest mafia syndicate in the country.

That her papa—me—isn't just the one who makes her lunches and goes shopping with her, but also the one who runs the intelligence arm of that empire, with blood and silence and precision.

Her reaction? She shrugged. Asked how she could help.

She's still undecided, our girl. Sometimes she says she wants to be an architect like Phi—big visions, sky-touching buildings, power in design.

Other days she watches old surgeries with her granddad and claims she wants to be a trauma surgeon. And when she spends weekends with Pai and Sky, she comes back talking about business expansions and equity stakes.

She doesn't have to choose yet. She can be anything she wants. She can be everything she wants.

She's ours, after all. And we've never built small.

We had lunch today at Sky and Pai's. Their twins—Tawan and Jantira—are seven now, and Kaia adores them. Especially Jan.

They're like magnets, those two. Wan, though... that boy's got it bad. He follows Kaia around like a lost puppy, always trying to impress her with his gadgets or how many chicken nuggets he can eat in one go.

She plays it cool, but I see her fighting back smiles. Phi pretends not to notice, but the vein in his temple always throbs when Wan gets too close even if he's seven.

Rocky's ancient history. They still talk, still hang out with Lilly, but it's mellowed. They're school friends now, nothing more.

I remember the night last year when Kaia told me about a new girl in her class. She'd been mentioning her name more often—at first casually, then in a way that made my instincts twitch.

That night, after dinner, we were lying on the couch, and I just asked her, "Do you like her?" She shrugged, cheeks a bit red, and said, "Maybe."

And that was it. That maybe cracked my heart wide open with pride.

It wasn't about who it was. Girl, boy, whoever. It was that she could say it without fear, without hesitation. That in our house, her maybe didn't need hiding.

We've always promised ourselves we wouldn't lie to her. Wouldn't build this perfect glass world that would shatter the moment real life knocked. So, eventually, we also told her about Kora. About the kidnapping.

About Isha too—who she was, what she did, how close we came to losing everything. Kaia took it all in quietly, the way she always does, thoughtful and serious beyond her years.

She didn't cry. Just hugged us both. And whispered, "I'm glad I have you and you always come for me."

We're raising her with knives and truths. The way we were never raised. And I'm proud. God, I'm proud.

She's still spoiled—utterly and unapologetically. Her grandparents, her godparents, all of them have their own ways of indulging her. Win is the soft and mischievous one, always sneaking her junks and letting her skip practice.

Saifah? Still calls him Fah-Fah when she's in the mood to be cute and get something she wants. They're as fiercely protective as ever, but Kaia's changed the game.

She stands her ground now—tells them off when they're being overbearing, annoying, or just too much.

And they take it. Every single time. They'd rather grit their teeth than risk disappointing her.

She still does kid things. Movies with friends. Sleepovers. Picnics. Birthday parties. But always with the bracelet on.

The bracelet's more than an accessory—it's her safety net, a tracker built into the design. We told her the truth about it, as she'd understood better, that it was how we'd find her if anything ever went wrong.

She'd nodded seriously and said, "Okay, but don't check it unless it's really important."

Phi didn't like that. Hated the idea of giving up even an inch of control. But she asked, and he gave in. That's how far she's come—taming even him.

She's thirteen now. Smart, strong, terrifyingly perceptive. Still our baby. But never blind. She knows exactly the world she's being raised in. And she still chooses us. Every day.

Kaia's POV

Growing up as Venice and VaRain's daughter—Phayu and Rain to the ordinary world—was equal parts simple and complicated. It was warm meals, kisses, bedtime stories.

It was also locked drawers with guns inside, training schedules, encrypted comms, and bulletproof cars.

It was love—deep, unshakeable love—but also sharp edges, danger, and power.

My parents gave me everything in outrageous measure: love, affection, protection. All they had, they gave to me. I never lacked. Not warmth, not security, not even answers.

My dad is my hero. I look up to him for everything—his strength, his fearlessness, the way the world quiets when he walks into a room. He's terrifying to everyone else, but when it comes to me or papa, he softens.

It's not a weakness in any way, but utter devotion. The kind of love people write myths about. Only we get that side of him—only I and papa can bring it out.

But my papa—my soft, delicate papa—he's the calm to dad's storm. Always in white, always unruffled, always gentle. He's as lethal as Dad, using his soft outward appearance to his advantage.

He's also my best friend. We literally do everything together.

People assume dad's the strict one, but they're wrong. Papa's the one with the sharp tone, the raised eyebrow, the quiet punishments that sting more than yelling ever could. He's the one I never want mad at me.

I've never not known love—from them to me, and for each other. But it didn't take long to realize their love wasn't... normal.

Not like the other parents at school. When I tell my friends the things my parents do, they stare like I've described something out of a storybook—or a crime thriller.

From as far back as I can remember, I've watched my dad and papa exist in their own orbit.

Dad's entire world narrows when papa walks into the room. And papa? Papa could start a war with a word, but he'd rather curl up in dad's lap, where he always ends up anyway.

Their love is disgusting. Not in a bad way. In a I-don't-know-how-anyone-else-can-measure-up kind of way.

It's dramatic, devoted, and overwhelming.

They're always kissing, always touching, always in each other's space like magnets. I've caught them slow-dancing in the kitchen at midnight, stealing bites from each other's plates, whispering in corners like teenagers.

But I've also seen the blood, the bruises. I've watched papa stitch dad up in the bedroom like it's nothing, seen the cold fire in his eyes when he says, "Dad needs me," and he grabs his guns without another word.

Their love isn't soft or safe. But it is absolute. I was raised inside that fire, protected by it, loved through it. I never had to wonder what devotion looked like. I was born into it.

I've seen the way people look at them—terrified, in awe, sometimes both. But when you're raised by two men who'd burn down the world for each other, you learn quickly that love all the time isn't quiet or not subtle. It's a promise that gets reinforced every day, every glance, every touch.

Grandad and Grandpa come close. So do Uncle Sky and Uncle Pai. But nothing, nothing, is like them. They're still obsessed with each other. After all these years, they still flirt, still argue, still kiss like they're the only people in the room.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of person I'll end up loving. And whether they'll be strong enough to handle all of this. Because I don't just come from love. I come from legacy. From empire. From blood and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

And sometimes, growing up under all that could look suffocating to the outside world.

I mean, I have a bracelet my parents use to track me. Literally.

It's disguised as fashion, but we all know what it is. I have overprotective uncles who glare at boys for breathing in my direction, and who show up at school pretending they're there for lunch when really they're "assessing threats."

And don't even get me started on Grandpapa—who has literally kidnapped me out of the country before. One minute I'm brushing my hair, next thing I know we're in Italy eating gelato like it's totally normal.

He's fabulous, unhinged, and terrifying in a way that makes sense only when you know he used to be a top-tier assassin. Papa told me once.

These are the kinds of things I can't talk about with my friends. Not really. I love them, but their idea of strict parenting is early bedtime and being grounded from watching tv.

They don't understand what it means when I say my dad once ripped a car door off because I screamed too loud in the back seat. They don't understand why my papa—teaches me pressure points like lullabies.

What we are—it's not right or wrong to me. It just is. This is my normal. My family is mafia. Assassins. Power. Wealth. Unapologetic love. And somehow, it all works. We just are.

That's why I once told Lilly,  being born into this family is like being made of shadows and sugar.

There's sweetness, everywhere. In how Papa kisses my forehead when he thinks I'm asleep. In how Dad wraps my whole world in steel and calls it love. In our kitchen full of midnight snacks and tired laughter.

In the quiet days spent watching movies where nobody dies, and the louder ones where they teach me how not to. The sugar is in our softness. Our inside jokes. The way Papa sings when he's folding laundry, or how Dad lets me win wrestling matches even though we both know I never stood a chance.

I was raised on sugar. The good kind. The dangerous kind. The kind that spoils you without making you rotten.

But there are shadows too. Always.

I've seen blood on white carpets. Guns under silk sheets. My tracking bracelet, the lessons, the drills, the way my uncles move when something feels off.

The way Papa's voice changes when he tells me to pay attention. The way Dad doesn't flinch when someone threatens us—he just smiles.I live with men who've killed and would kill again for me. And I love them for it. The shadows are the price of all this love. They come with our name.

People ask me what it's like, having parents like mine.

It's like this:I was raised in a home where I learned to aim a gun and make crème brûlée in the same week.Where 'I love you' sometimes sounds like 'stay behind me' or 'don't open that door.'Where bedtime stories are whispered between security sweeps.Where nothing is normal, and yet everything feels right.Where my life is stitched together by shadows and sugar—soft and dark, brutal and kind.

And maybe I didn't choose this.But I wouldn't change it either.

****

I walk into the living room with Blue and—of course—there's Papa, straddling Dad like the couch doesn't exist for anyone but them.

They're kissing like they're still twenty and haven't been married forever. "Papa!" I groan. "I sleep on that couch!"

They don't even flinch. Papa just giggles against Dad's mouth and makes a half-hearted move to get off, but Dad's arms lock tighter around his waist.

"Need something, princess?" Dad asks, still annoyingly smug, his voice rough and affectionate all at once.

My heart does this dumb warm thing because he always calls me that—princess, tiger, little storm, even when he's glaring at the world like he wants to destroy it. "Nothing major. Just... can I go over to Lilly's for a sleepover?"

Papa hums, brushing his fingers through Dad's hair. "Of course, baby. Want me to drop you off?"

Before I can answer, the front door opens and in walk the chaos twins—Uncle Win and Fah-fah,(yeah I still call him that. In fact he demanded that I continue to even if I'm 50 so...yeah).

Technically, Dad and Fah-fah are the actual twins, but it's hard to tell that sometimes when he and Win act like joint problems assigned to my life.

Uncle Win makes a beeline for me, hand already out to ruffle my hair like I'm six, but I duck under it like a pro and shoot him a smug look. He laughs, eyes sparkling, proud like I just passed a test.

Fah-fah flops onto the armrest nearest Dad, dropping his phone onto the table. He's married now—his wife's in the army and probably cooler than all of them combined—but I suspect he picked her just because she's mostly on the base and just so he could stay nosy in my life without catching too much flak.

"I'm still working on setting Win up," I once told Grandpapa, tossing a pointed glance at the uncle in question. "He's in denial."

"I'm not in denial," Win had answered, deadpan. "I just believe in freedom."

And all these years later, he's still single.

I roll my eyes and grab my backpack. "So, which of you gentlemen is taking me over to Lilly's?"

Uncle Win and Fah-fah exchange a glance, like they're calculating whose car has more junk food and tactical gear in the back seat.

Win lifts a hand, "I'll take you. I've got better taste in music."

Fah-fah scoffs, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "Please. The last time you played your 'music,' Kaia begged to get out at the next red light."

Papa finally disentangles himself from Dad's lap, smoothing down his clothes like that'll erase the scene I walked in on. "Text me when you get there, baby. And remember the rules."

I rattle them off automatically. "No wandering off. No drinks I didn't open myself. No staying up past one. No letting anyone cut or dye my hair as a joke. Keep my bracelet on."

"Good girl," Dad says, still lounging like a satisfied beast of war, one arm thrown over the backrest, the other now nursing a glass of something dark. "And if any little idiot tries anything—"

"I know," I sigh, "you'll burn him and the place down."

"Atta girl," he says with a grin that makes Uncle Win mutter something about therapy bills.

Fah-fah ruffles my hair when I'm not paying attention this time, and I glare at him while he grins, triumphant. "Still got it."

"I'll get you back for that," I mutter, and he throws up peace signs in mock fear.

Blue's tail gently thumping against the floor like a heartbeat just for me. He never really leaves my side—my best friend, my shadow, my quiet protector. He nudges my bag with his nose as if to say, Did you pack my treats? I did.

Papa leans against dad, "Are you taking Blue with you?" he asks, his voice warm like always.

I nod, tightening the strap of my overnight bag. "Yeah. Lilly's obsessed with him."

Sometimes I leave him behind—when I go to Grandpapa's, or when Uncle Sky kidnaps me for a sleepover—but it never feels quite right without him. He's such a good boy, even when I'm not around.

And I know he's not just mine anymore.

I've caught him curled up beside Papa on the couch, especially when I'm at school or away for a weekend.

Papa strokes his ears absently while reading or watching the news, and Blue just rests his head on Papa's thigh like he's protecting something important.

He's as much Papa's now as he is mine. And that's okay, they both need each other when I'm not here.

Dad though—he'd never say it, but I think he loves Blue just because Blue's mine. Because when I'm not home, Blue is a piece of me that stays behind. A pair of eyes that still look for me. A presence that fills the silence I leave behind.

Sometimes when I come back early from school, I find Blue curled under Dad's desk in his office while he works, head resting on his boots like a sentinel. Or lying beside the glass doors in the living room, watching the driveway like he's waiting.

And Dad never shoos him away.

He just lets him stay, just like he always lets me.

"Tell Lilly's mums I said hi," Papa calls out just before I reach the door, and I glance back to see him slipping his fingers into Dad's hair again, like he just has to be touching him.

Honestly, it's disgusting. And kind of sweet. And really disgusting. But also? It's home.

I turn and face my current headaches "You both drive like maniacs," I say, brushing past them. "Whoever gets to the car first wins."

They bolt outside, and I hear the front door slam.

I shake my head as I grab Blue, backpack slung over one shoulder, but then Dad calls out, "Kaia, you don't think you're forgetting something?"

I groan, already knowing what's coming. "Seriously?"

Papa just raises an eyebrow, expectant.

I sigh, march back over to where they're curled up like teenage soulmates on the couch and kiss them both on the cheek—first Papa, then Dad. "I love you. I'll be safe."

Papa smiles, pleased as always, but still gives me his trademark warning look. "We love you too. And stop rolling your eyes, young lady."

Dad's tone is softer, but the message is firm. "Text me if you need anything. Anything."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, but I give them one last look—at home, at love, at the stupid standard I'm never going to be able to match—and I run out before they say something else embarrassing.

Rain's POV

I look at him—my husband, my hell, my home—and I'm still in his arms, straddling his thighs like I never left.

He's warm beneath me, familiar in all the ways that break and bind me. His fingers press low against my spine, not urgent, just there.

"She's perfect," he murmurs against my cheek.

I smile. "You say that every day, Phi."

He leans in, voice brushing my skin gently. "You're perfect."

I huff a laugh, softer now. "You say that every day too."

His eyes don't waver. "Because it's true every day."

And maybe that's what ruins me most—the constancy. The fact that he means it every single time.

Phayu's POV

I look at him—my husband, my Arin, my heaven, my calm—and I whisper, "I love you."

He doesn't even blink before whispering back, "I love you too."

I reach up, brush his hair behind his ear, stare at the face I've memorized in a thousand lights, in a thousand lives. "You're never leaving me," I say, not as a question, but a certainty I demand confirmed.

And he smiles, the same smile he's had since the beginning—soft, amused, knowing. Sixteen years in and he still answers the same way, like clockwork.

"Where would I go, Phi?"

The end.

Wow... finally, Shadows and Sugar has come to an end.What was originally supposed to be a silly little one-shot somehow turned into this long, self-indulgent, soft domestic journey. At most, I thought it would be two chapters. And then, it was supposed to end the moment Kaia was found. But there was just something so ridiculously satisfying about writing Phayu and Rain as completely unhinged girl dads. The chaos, the tenderness, the softness tucked between all the danger and devotion — that I simply couldn't let them go.Somewhere along the way, this tiny side fic became a space I looked forward to returning to every single time. It all started with " What if Rain was blonde, less bratty, just as lethal and beautiful as his husband, and they had a five-year-old daughter who looked exactly like both of them?" And then somehow that spiraled into all the domestic fluff, the smut, the family moments, the aching love, and every bit of sweetness in between.Writing this fic gave me so much joy. More than I expected, honestly. There's something deeply comforting about imagining these characters finding softness with each other, building a home together, loving fiercely and unapologetically. I think that comfort spilled into the story itself.To everyone who read, commented, screamed with me, laughed with me, and stayed with this story until the very end — thank you. Truly. Thank you for making this fic feel alive. Thank you for sharing this safe, cozy corner with me. Every kind word, every reaction, every bit of enthusiasm breathed life back into me in ways I probably can't fully explain. I love you all endlessly for it.I'm hoping to catch up on my other fics soon, and hopefully I'll see you all there too.Yours always, as ever,Reina ♥️