I had been worried about her ever since her encounter with her birth mother. I remembered one evening when we sat together at the docks, quietly watching the sun sink toward the horizon as the sky shifted from orange to yellow to bursts of pink across the water. Normally, Jiya would have pointed out the beauty of it, but that evening she said nothing.
She didn’t mention the visit.
Not once.
Instead, she buried herself in work, as if keeping busy could keep the feelings away.
I knew she hadn’t truly dealt with what had happened. I could see it in the heaviness that sometimes contained her, and in the way her gaze drifted somewhere far away even while she stood beside me. I didn’t want to push her to talk if she wasn’t ready, but I still worried. I wanted to be there for her.
Standing on that dock, I wrapped my arms around her, and the moment I touched her, I felt it again—the familiar tingling that always came with her presence.
Seeing how her biological mother had treated her stirred something fierce inside me, a protective instinct that made me realize just how deeply I cared for her and how strongly I wanted to shield her from anyone who could hurt her again.
It had been happening more and more lately.
My feelings for her had quietly grown into something deeper.
Moments between us replayed constantly in my mind—at the hospital when she gave birth to Emma, in her kitchen when I told her I was moving into the apartment, and in her bedroom when she asked for help tying the strings of her dress. Eachmemory stirred the same reaction inside me—a restless flutter low in my stomach.
I wanted to talk to her about it, to know if she felt anything at all, or if this was only in my head. I considered speaking to Jack, to Liam, and even to Silvia, but saying the words out loud would make them too real, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answer.
Ever since the night of the fireworks on New Year’s Eve, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. I could still picture that moment on Liam’s terrace—the sky bursting with colour behind her, the feel of her beneath my arm, and the way her eyes met mine in that quiet pause between explosions of light. That memory had carved itself into my mind and refused to fade.
The next day, I wanted to bring it up and ask if she had felt it too. But her casual attitude made it clear that she hadn’t seen it the same way. She showed no sign that anything had changed between us.
So I buried the idea.
And signed up for a dating site.
That was how I ended up with Stephanie.
But comparing Stephanie to Jiya only made things worse. With Jiya, conversation flowed effortlessly. She had stood by me through some of the hardest moments of my life. She got along with my brother and his family. We laughed easily, understood each other without explanation, and she welcomed me into her world with openness.
And her kids…
I adored them.
Lucas and Emma had become part of my world. I had grown protective of Emma without even realizing it. Holding her reminded me of the fragile wonder of the first days after Chloe was born. And Lucas had a way of brightening even the darkest days.
Sometimes, I even caught myself thinking how perfect it all felt.
If only Jiya felt the same.
Evenings in my apartment felt lonely, even when Stephanie stayed over. The silence pressed against the walls, a reminder of everything missing. Jiya’s house, on the other hand, felt alive—filled with laughter, the smell of cookies and chai, and children running through the living room.
People often mistook us for a family when we were out together.
I still remembered the school play last month.
“Will you be coming with Mama for the play tomorrow, Cole?” Lucas had asked.
“Of course,” I had told him. “Your Mama already told me about it. I can’t wait. I’ll be taking pictures of the whole play.”
After the show ended, Lucas ran straight toward me.
“I’m so happy you made it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” I said, hugging him.
