It's Him....

"How breathtaking you look, Ayin!" Mom's voice came from the doorway, and as she stepped into the room, her expression softened with awe. Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, it looked like she might cry. "Oh, my beautiful daughter, look at you!" Her hands clasped together in front of her chest as she walked closer, her gaze sweeping over me from head to toe.

"You look so radiant in this dress, and these jewelry pieces—they suit you so perfectly. It's like they were made for you." Her voice trembled slightly with pride, her words laced with unspoken emotions I couldn't quite decipher.

I turned to face her, catching her reflection in the mirror first. There was so much love in her eyes, so much hope, that it felt like my chest might burst under the weight of it all. She came closer, brushing her fingers gently along the intricate embroidery of my dress, her touch so soft, like she was handling something fragile.

"You've grown up so fast," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I still remember the day I first held you in my arms... you were so tiny, Ayin, so delicate." She smiled wistfully, her gaze lingering on the necklace I was wearing. "And now, look at you—a bride. You're not just beautiful, my love. You're strong, brave, and everything I ever hoped you would be."

I tried to muster a smile, but my lips wavered as I fought back the lump rising in my throat. "Thanks, Mom," I whispered, my voice barely audible. It came out softer than I wanted, almost swallowed up by the heaviness pressing down on me.

Her hand found its way to my cheek, and she tilted my face up slightly so I was looking directly at her. "Are you okay, Ayin? Really?" she asked, her eyes searching mine with concern.

I nodded quickly, afraid my voice might betray the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "Yeah, I'm fine," I managed, but the words felt hollow.

She didn't press further, but the way her thumb lingered on my cheek, brushing it softly, told me she wasn't entirely convinced. "You don't have to hide your feelings from me, Ayin. I know this is a big day—a life-changing one—and I know how overwhelming it must feel. But…" Her voice cracked slightly, and she paused to collect herself. "But you don't have to go through it alone. I'm here for you. Always."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to throw my arms around her and cry like I had when I was a little girl. But I didn't. Instead, I reached up to hold her hand against my cheek, giving it a soft squeeze. "I know, Mom. Thank you."

She smiled, her eyes glassy but filled with so much warmth that it felt like a balm on my frayed nerves. "You've got this, Ayin," she said softly, stepping back. "And whoever's waiting on the other side of that veil… he's going to be the luckiest man alive to have you."

Before I could say anything more, Syrus popped her head into the room, her expression rushed. "They've arrived—the groom and his boys. The rituals will begin soon. Let's go," she announced, her voice crisp but carrying a hint of urgency. She was directing her words at Rira, who had just entered the room, her calm demeanor a contrast to Syrus's hurried energy.

Rira gave a knowing nod, then turned to me with a small smile. "Ayin, it's time," she said softly, her voice steady, as if to reassure me that everything would be okay.

I nodded but didn't move right away. I lingered for a moment, still staring at my reflection in the mirror. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind, crashing into each other like waves. Everyone was here—even Misile, whose arrival I had doubted until the last moment. But Max couldn't come; his visa hadn't been approved in time.

"He'll make it to the reception," I muttered to myself, my voice barely audible. But as the word "reception" left my lips, I realized how little it mattered to me at that moment. The grand parties, the extravagant celebrations—they all felt like mere distractions. My mind was fixed on what lay ahead. The life I was about to step into with someone I barely knew.

Ezan Aunt appeared at the door, her face alight with excitement. "Ayin, come downstairs—it's time for the grand moment!" she said, her voice teasing but brimming with joy. She stepped into the room, clapping her hands together like a child about to open a long-awaited gift.

Her smile was infectious, but the knot in my stomach only tightened. I rose to my feet, adjusting my dress with trembling hands. As I took a deep breath and prepared to leave the room, my mind was overwhelmed with memories. Every step I took down the stairs felt like I was walking through a montage of my life.

I saw glimpses of my childhood: the laughter, the games, the carefree days when the world felt so much smaller. I saw my father's face, his warmth and strength, and then the hollow ache of losing him, the tears that had felt endless. I saw the struggles I had overcome, the victories that had shaped me, and the milestones that had brought me to this very moment.

When I reached the living room, the air felt heavy. The veil separating me from the other side—the groom and his best men—seemed to carry more than just tradition. It felt like a boundary between my old life and the one I was about to begin.

The setup was exquisite, each detail carefully planned, but my focus was elsewhere. From where I stood, I could see the shadow of the groom—a tall figure with broad shoulders. Even seated, he exuded a quiet strength, a commanding presence that drew my attention despite myself.

I sat down, my hands clutching the edges of my dress in an attempt to steady them. The rituals began, and everything seemed to move in a blur. The voices of the officiants, the murmurs of the guests—it all felt distant, like background noise in a dream.

When it was time to say the words, my voice surprised me with its steadiness. "I do," I said, but my heart was far from calm.

And then, I heard his voice for the first time.

"I do," he said.

It wasn't just the words—it was the way he said them. His voice was deep and smooth, yet there was a strength to it that sent chills down my spine. It was the kind of voice that demanded attention without trying, that could wrap around you like a warm embrace and make you feel both comforted and awestruck at the same time.

For a moment, I forgot where I was. All I could think about was him.

The room erupted in celebration as the rituals came to an end. Mom was handing out sweets, her voice animated as she urged everyone to share them with the bride and groom.

I stood abruptly, my chest tight. The room felt too small, the air too thick. I needed to breathe. Without thinking, I turned and hurried to my room, shutting the door behind me.

Leaning against the door, I tried to steady my breathing. My hands trembled as I clutched the fabric of my dress. What is happening to me? Why does his voice—just his voice—affect me like this?

I stared at my reflection, searching for answers in the girl looking back at me. "This isn't me," I whispered to the mirror. "I've interviewed so many people, heard countless voices… no one's voice has ever done this to me before. How can a single voice—just a voice—make me feel like I'm coming undone?" 

The room was silent, but inside me, it felt like everything was falling apart. 

A knock on the door jolted me out of my spiraling thoughts, snapping me back to reality. My heart lurched into my throat, and I clutched the edge of the vanity for support. It had to be Rira, coming to scold me for running out of the ceremony so suddenly.

"Come in," I called, my voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaked open, and I busied myself with the jewelry around my neck, trying to steel myself for the lecture that was sure to follow. But then I caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror, and my hands froze.

It wasn't Rira.

It was him, wearing the groom's suite.

Ithan?

It took me a moment to comprehend the sight in front of me. Max's best friend, Ithan Houndston. The youngest billionaire in the country. But this man? This man wasn't just a name or a title. He was an impossibility standing before me. I had no idea who the groom was—I had no idea it would be him. 

Ithan stood there, in the doorway, as if he belonged to another world entirely. Tall—at least 6'5"—his presence so commanding it felt like the room itself had bowed in respect to him. His broad shoulders filled the frame, so effortlessly powerful it was like he carried the weight of entire empires with ease. The jet-black hair that framed his face was thick, soft, and perfectly styled, adding to the almost regal aura that seemed to radiate from him. But it wasn't just his hair, his clothes, or his height that left me breathless.

It was his face.

His features were sculpted so perfectly, it was as though he had been carved from the most precious marble, each line and angle speaking of beauty that didn't seem possible for any human to possess. His jawline was so sharp, it looked as though it had been drawn with an artist's precision, and the bridge of his nose was defined, strong—almost as though it had been kissed by the gods themselves. 

But it was his eyes that held me captive.

They were black—so deep, so dark, I felt as though I was sinking into them, unable to escape. When they met mine in the mirror, I felt like I had been hit by a wave, swept away by their intensity. There was nothing soft or gentle about his gaze. It was powerful, steady, and overwhelming. Like it had the weight to hold the universe in place, yet at the same time, it pulled me toward him, drawing me into a world I was both terrified and eager to enter.

I couldn't breathe.

I stared at his reflection, utterly lost in the sharp lines of his face, the way his lips curved just slightly at the corners in the most devilish smile I had ever seen. It wasn't grand—it was subtle, teasing—but it was enough to shatter any sense of composure I had left. In that moment, everything else faded, and all I could think about was that smile. How it made him so unbearably, devastatingly beautiful. How I wanted to see it in person, wanted to see it directly, to feel the weight of it on my soul.

Without even thinking, I turned to face him.

Standing in front of me, he was even more imposing, more mesmerizing. His gaze was still locked on mine, his eyes dark pools that threatened to drown me. His lips parted slightly, and his voice—rich, deep, with a hint of humor—came out almost like a whisper, yet it thundered in my chest. "Can I say hi to Ayin Elzid Houndston?"

I stood there, frozen, the name he spoke feeling like a brand on my heart. Houndston. It wasn't just a name. It was a connection, a bond that I felt in my very core, as though hearing it from him made it a part of me now. And in that moment, an overwhelming surge of emotion flooded through me—fear, confusion, and something else… something beautiful and profound, a sense of belonging.

His smile—so small, yet so perfect—was the final blow. It made everything about him complete. It made him real. And in that instant, I realized with a rush of clarity: I wasn't just standing at the edge of something terrifying. I was standing at the edge of something that could change everything.

And at that moment, I didn't know if I was ready. But I knew that whatever came next, I would never be the same again.

Ithan 

There she was. My love. My desire. My prey. My woman. My everything.

Ayin Elzid—now Houndston.

The name echoed in my chest, a rhythm I couldn't escape. The weight of it—of her—made everything else blur. I stood there, frozen, my eyes locked on the mirror where her reflection held me captive. Her fiery, ginger eyes stared back at me through the glass, piercing and unrelenting. They were intense, deep, filled with unspoken thoughts and secrets, yet they carried a softness that made me feel like I was the only person in her world. Seeing her like this, standing in front of me, yet reflected in the mirror, was otherworldly—like a vision I didn't deserve to witness.

Her thick, black hair tumbled in wavy perfection around her shoulders, framing her porcelain skin with an effortless grace. In the mirror's reflection, every movement of her hair seemed to come alive, brushing against her face like silk, making her seem ethereal. She was stunning—breathtaking in a way that made it impossible for me to breathe, a goddess sculpted from dreams and desires.

And her lips... they weren't smiling, but they still captivated me. Full, natural, and almost hypnotic. The way they parted slightly, as if she were holding back something profound, was more beautiful than any smile. They held power in their silence, drawing me closer with every passing second.

Her hands—fragile but unyielding. The long, delicate fingers of hers seemed to tell their own story, a story of strength and resilience. I could see it in the way she carried herself, the way she stood still, poised and unwavering. But it wasn't just her beauty that made my chest tighten—it was her presence. The bold, fearless, and empowered Ayin who could command a room without even raising her voice. She had always been captivating, but now, as my wife, she was utterly mesmerizing. The thought of her standing there, so undeniably hers and now so undeniably mine, sent a rush of emotions through me. I couldn't help but smile, the corners of my lips pulling upward as a wave of pride, awe, and something deeper—a sense of protectiveness—swept over me.

Slowly, she turned to face me, the air between us thick with unspoken words. If she had been breathtaking before, seeing her up close now made everything inside me shatter and rebuild all at once.

The silence between us stretched, heavy with emotions I couldn't name. I stepped closer, clearing my throat. My voice came out low, rich, and steady, with a touch of humor that I hoped would ease the tension.

"Can I say hi to Ayin Elzid Houndston?"

Her eyes, locked on mine, widened slightly as if the name still took her by surprise. Houndston. My name, now hers—a connection that felt deeper than words could describe.

Her lips parted slightly, and she spoke with a quiet, almost challenging tone. "Hi," she said, her voice soft but steady. Then, with a boldness that could only belong to Ayin, she added, "Why are you standing here acting like my husband?"

The corner of my mouth lifted into a small, teasing smile as I stepped even closer. The fire in her words only made her more irresistible.

"Because, Ayin Elzid Houndston..." I said, savoring the sound of her new last name, "I am."