ANGEL'S POV
It had been a year since that summer.
A year since Zayne and I shared that quiet love under fireflies and stars. A year since he told me about his fear of rain, though never why.
And now, even though we were back in the city, buried under classwork and student council meetings, it still felt like summer in my chest when I was with him.
But I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a weight creeping in.
His world and mine were different. And lately, that difference had been whispering louder.
ZAYNE'S POV
My mom wasn't subtle.
She had always had an eye for control—elegance layered with steel.
The moment she saw Angel's name in the feature article, she waited until we sat for dinner and placed the clipping on the table without a word.
"So," she said, swirling her soup with a spoon, "you've found a muse."
I glanced down at the article. Zayne Kim and Angel Sulphur: A Love Written in Color.
I sighed. "She's not just a muse. She's important to me."
My mother's lips barely curved. "I'm sure she is."
I tensed. "Say what you really mean."
She dabbed her lips with her napkin. "You're a Kim, Zayne. Your choices reflect not only your personal happiness but the legacy of our family."
"So, what? Because she's not from wealth, she doesn't belong?"
"That's not what I said."
"It's exactly what you meant."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "When emotions fade, you'll realize compatibility matters more than poetry and paintbrushes."
I stood up. "And you'll realize I'd rather live poor and in love than rich and empty."
She didn't stop me when I walked out.
But she always had her ways.
ANGEL'S POV
I wasn't expecting it.
Zayne's little sister, Miyeon, messaged me out of the blue. She was studying fashion design in a nearby college.
Miyeon Kim:Hey! I'm Miyeon. Zayne's sister. Wanna grab lunch? I've been wanting to meet the girl who has my brother completely whipped.
I nearly dropped my phone.
Zayne encouraged me to go. Said Miyeon was blunt but kind.
We met at a cozy bistro near the botanical gardens. Miyeon walked in wearing a sunshine-yellow blazer and knee-high boots, her short black bob framing her cheekbones perfectly.
"Angel?" she smiled, sliding into the seat across from me. "You're even prettier than the pictures."
I blinked. "Pictures?"
She laughed. "My brother draws you like he's preparing for a museum opening. Seriously. Sketches of your smile, your eyes, even your hands."
I smiled shyly. "That's... wow. I didn't know."
She leaned in, voice lower. "Listen. I won't pretend our mom isn't a handful. She's like... a dragon in designer heels. But I want you to know—not everyone in our family sees you as an outsider."
I relaxed a little. "Thank you. I wasn't sure what to expect."
Miyeon stabbed her salad. "She called me last night, ranting about you. Said you'd 'distract Zayne from his duties.' I told her if duty means being miserable in a penthouse, then I'd rather see him laughing in a one-room studio with someone who makes him glow."
I choked a bit on my drink. "You said that?"
"Word for word," she smirked. "Mom hung up. But she needed to hear it."
We talked for over an hour—about Zayne as a child (spoiler: he was awkward), about how he once ran away from home to attend an art camp, and how he spent his allowance buying art supplies instead of clothes.
Miyeon touched my hand near the end of lunch. "He's changed a lot, but I haven't seen him this happy in years. Please don't give up on him, even if Mom makes things messy."
"I won't," I promised.
ZAYNE'S POV
I waited outside the bistro with a cup of Angel's favorite iced coffee.
When she walked out, her cheeks were rosy from laughter.
"So? Did she grill you or scare you off?"
"Neither," Angel said. "She's amazing. I can see why you love her."
"She's always been my voice when I lose mine."
Angel took the drink from me and stood on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. "You're lucky."
"No," I said. "I'm lucky because of you."
ANGEL'S POV
Later that night, I sat in my dorm sketching Zayne from memory—his half-smile, his intense eyes, his tilted head when he's thinking.
Then my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
Unknown:It's time you think long-term, Angel. He won't be able to carry you forever.
No name. No proof.
But I knew.
It was her.
Mrs. Kim.
I didn't tell Zayne. Not yet.
Because part of me wanted to prove her wrong, not by complaining, but by becoming someone even I could be proud of.
ZAYNE'S POV
I returned home for a board meeting.
My mother waited in the sitting room, her expression tight.
She didn't speak. Just handed me a letter.
"The chairman of the board has questions about your future. You're either going to be a Kim... or just another artist lost in romance."
I held the letter tightly.
"Then I guess I need to decide which man I want to be.