What felt like a home

The car rolled to a stop in front of a set of tall iron gates, which opened slowly with a quiet hum. I sat forward, craning my neck as the house came into view. House wasn't even the right word.

It was a mansion. A real one. The kind you see on magazines, the kind with windows that sparkle like glass candy and a roofline that seemed to stretch into the sky. Cream stone walls, dark-wood paneling, manicured hedges— everything about it whispered, Someone important lives here.

The car curved up the long driveway, and the twins went quiet in the back seat, eyes wide. I didn't blame them. My own heart had started fluttering like it didn't know how to land.

It felt like I didn't belong there.

As we came to a stop, I muttered under my breath, "This is a mansion befitting someone of royalty." and someone with a eitmghty billion dollar net worth, but I didn't say that part out loud.

Zayne turned from the driver's seat, a lazy smile on his face. "Close enough."

The front doors opened before we even stepped out. A neat row of uniformed staff stood waiting on the wide front steps, hands clasped, expressions respectful but curious.

Zayne stepped out first. "Welcome home," he said, holding the door open for me.

Home. Right.

I got out slowly, the twins shuffling behind me. They clung to my legs, peeking out at the line of strangers with wide, wary eyes.

Zayne stepped forward and cleared his throat. "This is Miss Lia. The madam of the house."

Madam. I blinked. That was… new.

"Welcome, madam." Immediately, the staff gave a small bow. It wasn't dramatic— just enough to make me feel like I was suddenly standing on a movie set.

The twins pressed even closer behind me.

Zayne glanced back and smiled. "And these two troublemakers are Zia and Zeal. My children."

There was a beat of silence before the staff relaxed slightly, some of them offering kind smiles. One woman in particular—older, with warm eyes, crouched a little and waved at the twins.

Neither of them moved.

"They'll warm up," I said quickly, giving a small nod as I ushered them forward. "They're just shy."

We stepped inside and the air shifted. The house was cool, but not cold. Bright sunlight poured in through tall windows, catching on pale walls and rich wood floors. But what really got me... what made me stop and stare, were the little details.

Foam. On every sharp edge.

Corners of tables, low shelves, even the legs of the coffee table had been cushioned, softened, child-proofed.

"When did you fix this?" I asked, turning to Zayne.

"I've been making arrangements for a while," he said simply.

I didn't know what to say. My throat felt a little tight.

The twins broke away from me at last, racing through the foyer like kids in a candy store. Their squeals echoed off the high ceiling as they darted around.

I followed more slowly, drinking everything in. The furniture was tasteful but not stiff. Neutral tones. Soft rugs. There were throw blankets tossed on armrests, cushions the kids would definitely fight over, and shelves that weren't just filled with books, but with toys, coloring books, puzzles… things that hadn't been there before.

He changed the house.

Not just for show. For us.

We headed upstairs, the twins running ahead until they disappeared into a wide, bright room.

Their room.

Toys were already unpacked and arranged. A small tent stood in the corner with pillows inside. There were shelves low enough for tiny hands to reach, walls painted a soft seafoam green with stenciled stars scattered near the ceiling. And in the center of it all—two beds. One pink. One blue. Identical in size.

A small tea table stood in the corner, with pretty dolls seated on the mini chairs. I giggled thinking of the tea sessions we'd have there.

The twins had already claimed the beds, bouncing and laughing and holding up stuffed animals like they'd just found treasure.

While they were distracted, Zayne touched my elbow. "Come on. Let me show you the rest."

We stepped out into the hallway again, and he led me down to another room. The door opened and I blinked.

It was bright, cozy, with soft cream walls and pale wood furniture. A bookshelf in the corner already had some of my favorite authors on it. A wide window looked out over the garden. It felt like… me.

"This is your room," he said. "When no one's around? For when you want space."

I frowned. "What about when someone is around?"

That crooked grin of his returned. "Come on."

We crossed the hall, and he pushed open another door.

This one was darker. Charcoal walls. Black and white furniture. Still tasteful, still clean, but it had his energy all over it. Cool. Composed. Sharp.

He didn't hesitate. "This is our room. For when people are around."

Our room.

I stepped in slowly, absorbing the details. The closet had a section that was now empty, hangers waiting. There were two robes hanging on the door, one big, one smaller. Two pairs of slippers at the foot of the bed. The bathroom had two toothbrushes already placed in a holder.

Two of everything.

I looked back at him. "You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"

He shrugged. "Wanted it to feel real."

For a moment, it did.

We didn't speak. Just stood there, the weight of all that change quietly pressing in. Then the twins called out from down the hallway, and just like that, the moment passed.

Zayne took my hand and led me through the rest of the house.

Slowly, before I even realised it, I was getting used to the feeling of his hand in mine.

We toured the kitchen. It was gleaming and modern, but warm too. There was a fruit basket already stocked with bananas and apples, and the fridge had small yogurt cups the twins liked. Someone had even labeled a bottom shelf with "Zia & Zeal."

The dining room was wide, with a long table and enough chairs for an army. The study was elegant, with floor-to-ceiling shelves. And outside, through sliding glass doors, there was a garden big enough for the kids to run for days. A small pool glistened at the far end.

It was… overwhelming.

Beautiful. Thoughtful. A home.

By the time we finished the tour, we ended up back near the front door, the kids giggling somewhere down the hallway. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath.

"I don't know what to say," I told him.

Zayne looked over at me, something unreadable in his eyes. "Then don't say anything."

But I wanted to. My heart was full in a way I wasn't used to.

Before I could speak, a voice broke the air.

"Hey, son."

We both turned.

A woman stood in the doorway, stylishly dressed, her dark hair swept into a neat chignon. She looked first at Zayne… then at me.

And her smile faltered.

Her eyes raked over me, and something unreadable passed through her expression.

"Mother," Zayne said, his voice tightening.

I stepped back instinctively, unsure why I suddenly felt like I was about to be judged.

Her eyes lingered on me for a long moment before her lips curved, just barely into a polite smile.

And just like that, I knew this was going to be a whole new chapter of its own.