She had no idea. So she felt nothing. Just numbness.

Emma stared at the stained-glass window. Colors streamed through, red, blue, gold. Beautiful... but meaningless.

She heard footsteps behind her, slow and uncertain.

Then she felt the bench creak as someone sat down next to her. She knew it was Zayn without even looking.

He had been there for her over the last two days, never pushing, never demanding, just being there

His presence was warm and solid, but she didn’t turn to him or say anything. She just kept looking at the window.

Zayn reached over and took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. She let him, but didn’t squeeze back or acknowledge it.

They sat there in silence. Five minutes passed, then ten.

The church was quiet now, except for the soft sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside.

Finally, Zayn broke the silence with a gentle, careful voice.

"Are you okay?"

Emma didn’t answer right away and kept staring at the window.

Then, slowly, she shook her head.

"No," she said. It was the first time she had spoken in two days. Her voice sounded rough from not using it.

Zayn squeezed her hand. "Talk to me."

Emma took a shaky breath. "I have no idea what I’m supposed to feel."

She paused. "I should hate him for what he did. For killing my parents. For lying to me my whole life."

Zayn stayed silent, just listening. Emma went on, "But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to hate him. I’ve tried. Really, I’ve tried. But when I think of him—"

Her voice went shaky. "I still see my dad. The guy who taught me to ride a bike. Who read me bedtime stories. Who made me pancakes on Sunday mornings."

Tears started to fall, steady and silent.

"He wasn’t my real dad. He killed my real parents. My whole life was a lie. I should hate him. But I can’t. And I don’t get why."

Finally, she looked at Zayn. Her eyes were red, swollen, and heartbroken.

"What’s wrong with me?"

Zayn cupped her face in his hands. "Nothing. You’re not the problem."

"But—"

"Emma, listen. You’re allowed to feel however you feel. There’s no right or wrong here. There’s no manual for dealing with this."

He wiped her tears with his thumbs.

"Alexander did terrible things, stuff you can’t forgive. But he also raised you and loved you. That part was real. Even if everything else was fake, that part was true."

Emma shook her head. "How can you be sure?"

"Because when he got shot and they were taking him to the hospital, do you know what he said?"

Emma waited.

"He said your name: Emma. That was the only thing on his mind, making sure you were okay, not himself. Just you."

Fresh tears streamed down Emma’s cheeks.

Zayn pulled her into a hug. She crumbled against him, finally letting it all out, finally breaking down.

"I’m so mad," she sobbed. "At him, at myself, at everything."

"I know," he said.

"He took my parents from me. He messed with my life."

"I get it."

"But I still care about him. And it really annoys me that I do. I hate myself for not being able to hate him enough."

Zayn hugged her a bit tighter.

"It’s totally okay to love him and hate him at the same time. You have every right to mourn the dad who raised you and miss the parents you never got to know. You can feel angry, sad, and confused all at once."

He kissed the top of her head.

"There’s no deadline for healing. There’s no wrong way to feel. Just take your time. I’ll be here with you, every step of the way, every day, for however long it takes."

Emma held onto him, crying harder and letting out everything she had been bottling up, the hurt, the confusion, and the sadness.

Zayn just held her. He let her cry without trying to fix anything or offering empty words. He was just there—and that was enough

After a while, her sobs quieted, and her breathing got back to normal. She pulled back a bit and looked up at him.

"Thanks."

Zayn smiled gently. "For what?"

"For not telling me what to feel. For just... being here."

"Always."

He stood up and offered his hand.

"Come on. Everyone is waiting outside. They’re worried about you."

Emma took his hand and let him help her up. She wasn’t okay, far from it, but she was ready to try, ready to face the world again, even if it was just one step at a time.

Together, they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, through the heavy doors and out into the afternoon sun.

*****

The group stood in a loose circle near the church entrance, waiting.

Isabella saw them first, her face softening.

"Emma, sweetie." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She walked over and wrapped Emma in a gentle hug.

"How are you doing?"

Emma managed a faint smile. "I’m... getting by."

Isabella nodded, understanding without pushing further.

Enzo stood by his wife, hands in his pockets, giving Emma a kind look.

"If you need anything, seriously, anything at all, just let us know."

"Thanks, Mr. Virelli."

"Just call me Enzo, okay? You’re family now."

Emma nodded in gratitude.

Then Azalea came over. She didn’t hug Emma; she just stood in front of her and locked eyes.

"I know what I said was tough to hear, and the timing was pretty awful. But I still think you deserved the truth."

Emma looked at her and nodded slowly.

"You were right. I did deserve to know, even if it hurt."

Azalea’s expression softened. "For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. About everything."

"Me too," Emma replied.

Leo stepped up quietly and respectfully. "I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Kane."

Emma blinked. "You don’t have to—"

"I know. But loss is loss, complicated or not."

Emma appreciated that.

Reyes gave her a nod, a small acknowledgment. He wasn’t great with words, but he didn’t need to be; his presence said a lot.

Kade hung back a little, looking uneasy.

Emma looked at him. "You were with him at the end."

Kade nodded. "Yeah."

"Was he—" Emma swallowed. "Was he in pain?"

Kade paused before answering. "No. The doctors made sure of that. He was... at peace."

It wasn’t entirely true, but it was what she needed to hear. Emma nodded, feeling thankful.

Then she spotted Ayla, her best friend, hanging out with Aylin. Ayla’s eyes were puffy from crying. When she saw Emma, she rushed over and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Emma, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry," Ayla said, her voice shaking.

Emma hugged her back, holding on tight. Ayla was the one steady thing in all this craziness, her friend, her rock.

"I’m here," Ayla whispered. "Whatever you need, I’m here."

Emma nodded against her shoulder. "I know. Thanks."

They pulled apart, and Ayla wiped her eyes. "You okay? I know, dumb question. Of course, you’re not okay."

Emma managed a small smile. "I’m... just getting by."

Ayla squeezed her hands. "That’s enough for now."

Then Emma turned to Aylin.

"Emma," Aylin said softly. "I’m really sorry for what happened."

Emma nodded. "Thanks, Aylin."

There was a brief pause before Emma added quietly, "Take care of him, Aylin. He acts like he’s tough, but he’s not."

Aylin’s eyes softened. "I will. I promise."

Emma smiled, a small but genuine smile. Then she turned and saw Zayden.

He was leaning against the church wall, arms crossed, watching her. He shouldn’t have been there... but he was. Because he was Zayden Cole Virelli—and rules had never applied to him, especially not when it came to the people he cared about.

Emma walked over, and he straightened up as she got closer.

"You look rough," she said.

Zayden smiled weakly. "Thanks. You look good, too."

Emma almost laughed, almost.

"You should be in bed resting and healing."

"So should you," he shot back.

Touché.

Emma looked at him, really looked. She noticed the bandages peeking out from under his shirt, his pale skin, and the tightness around his eyes. He was in pain, but he was hiding it pretty well.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Zayden looked confused. "For what?"

"For keeping me in the loop. You didn’t have to do that; you could have just left me in the dark and let me believe the lies."

Zayden shook his head. "You deserved to know the truth, no matter how tough it was."

Emma nodded in agreement.