Small healing

Ivan's POV

Our second date.

I can't stop smiling.

The moment I woke up this morning, my stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, my heart racing with anticipation. It's been years since I've been excited for something so… simple.

A picnic.Zander had refused to tell me much, only that he had everything planned and that Maksim would take me there.

"Just trust me," he had said.

And damn it, I do.So now, as I stand in front of my mirror, I keep my outfit casual—just a pair of soft shorts and an oversized black T-shirt that drapes over them.

Comfortable. Relaxed.And maybe, just maybe, I want to see if Zander will like it.

Maksim drives for forty minutes, and the entire time, I feel like a bundle of nerves wrapped in barely contained excitement.When we finally arrive, I step out of the car, stretching my legs, and pause.

We're in a secluded park—but it's not just any park.

It's exclusive.I recognize some of the faces nearby—actors, models, powerful figures who would never be caught in a public setting unless it was specifically designed for them.

This place must be some hidden haven for the elite, a private retreat where celebrities and the wealthy can exist without the paparazzi breathing down their necks.

And then—

I glance at Zander and stop breathing.

We're matching.

Not perfectly, but close enough.

He's wearing a black button-up short-sleeved shirt, paired with khaki beige shorts and open sandals.

Sandals.

Zander Vale, the billionaire CEO with an impeccable fashion sense, is wearing sandals.I don't know why that intrigues me so much, but it does.

And maybe I feel ridiculous for being so giddy over something as simple as our outfits coincidentally aligning, but I don't care.Because it's adorable.

Because it makes me feel connected to him in a way I can't explain.

Because I want this feeling to last forever.

Zander reaches for my hand.For a brief moment, I hesitate.Not because I don't want to, but because I'm not used to this—not in public.But then, before I can overthink it, I place my hand in his.

His fingers intertwine with mine, warm and firm, and something inside me shifts.I look around at the other couples, at the way they hold hands so openly, so effortlessly.And then, suddenly, my eyes sting.

I blink back unexpected tears.Because the truth is, I've never had this before.

Jackson always hid me, always made excuses, always made sure our relationship was kept in the dark. I told myself I was okay with it, that it didn't matter.

But maybe it did.

Maybe I wanted this too.

The ability to hold hands with someone in public.

To be seen.

To be wanted—loudly.

Zander doesn't hide me.

He holds my hand with certainty, leads me forward without hesitation, and just like that—

Something inside me mends.

Something I didn't even know was broken.

*

We reach a large oak tree, where a plush blanket is spread out, along with a woven picnic basket beside it.

I watch as Zander fusses over everything, adjusting the plates, making sure the food is laid out just right, his brows furrowed in concentration.

And my chest tightens.

Because I can tell—he really put thought into this.

He's trying so hard.

And I think—

I think I might be falling in love with him.

I mean, I already am, but watching him like this, so unguarded, so sincere—it only makes me fall harder.

We sit together, eating, talking, laughing.

And then—

"So how was the PB&J sandwich?" Zander asks suddenly.

He's lying on the blanket, looking up at the sky, avoiding my gaze. I want to place his head on my laps.

I pause, chewing on a grape, watching him carefully.

"Honest opinion?" I ask, scooting a little closer.

"Honest opinion," he confirms.

I hesitate, then sigh.

"Uhm, the jelly was too sweet, and the peanut butter was a little grainy… but it was okay."

Zander immediately looks downcast.I frown.

"What?" I ask.

"I made the PB&J."

I freeze.

"Wait, what? Really?"

He gives me a sheepish smile, and—

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He looks so handsome like this, unguarded, a little shy, a little uncertain.He shrugs, looking almost embarrassed. "Yeah. Sorry it wasn't up to standard."

I watch as he moves to sit up, and without thinking, I pull him back down—Right onto my lap.

Yes. Yes. Yes. That was so natural.

He blinks, surprised at first, but then relaxes, letting his head rest against my thighs.

My heart races.

Feeling bold, I lift my fingers and run them through his hair, threading through the soft strands, memorizing the sensation.

"I said it was okay," I murmur.

"Don't try to placate me," he says, his voice teasing, but a little pouty.

I chuckle, twirling a strand of his hair around my finger, watching the way the golden light catches against his skin, making him look softer than usual.

I could get used to this.

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