Zoya walked into the penthouse with her hair tied in a messy bun, wearing his oversized shirt, two kids screaming in the background, and a toy airplane in her hand.

Zayan stood in the living room, in his grey tee and joggers, watching her like a starved man.

"Zoya..." he said, catching her wrist.

"Hmm?" she replied, distracted, trying to get juice boxes from the bag.

"Send the kids to Nanu and Nani for the weekend."

She looked up, surprised.

"Why?"

He stepped closer, cupped her face.

"Because I'm tired of sharing you. I miss you, Zoey. I miss us."

She smiled faintly.

"You sound jealous of your own kids."

"Damn right I am," he growled softly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"They're always hugging you, sleeping between us, stealing your kisses.

I need you to myself, Zoya.

Just one weekend.

No noise. No toys. No interruptions.

Just... you.

And me.

And maybe that balcony where I first tasted you..."

She blushed, hiding her face in his chest.

"You're crazy."

"For you? Always."

She pulled back, eyes softening.

"You think time has changed me, Zayan?"

He leaned in.

"Time can take my sleep.

My hairline.

Even my f*cking patience.

But it will never take you away from me."

"Promise?"

"I didn't say vows for nothing, jaan.

I'll love you through diapers, tantrums, and grey hair.

And when the kids are asleep... I'll remind you exactly who you belong to."

She kissed him slow, deep, and whispered—

"Yours. Always."

THE END