Rebirth: Love me Again

[IRAYA]

Ren turned back to me and took my hand, his expression softening into something more brotherly. "Sister . . . out of all the men out there . . . why him? Are you seriously going out with this guy? Don't you know that his entire clan is shady? They're dangerous."

"Every business is shady," Lyander said without batting an eyelid.

"Shut up, you . . ." Ren hissed and looked at me for answers.

I sighed and looked away. "Unfortunately . . . yes."

"Hoi," Lyander interjected with mock offense as he dusted dirt and wrinkles off his shirt. "What's with the lemon face? You say that like you just swallowed bad wine."

I gave him a flat look. "You kind of are bad wine. Strong, irritating, and gets me into trouble."

Ray muttered under his breath, "And probably a hangover. Clearly, you're not thinking straight."

Ren groaned. "You really fell for this guy?"

"I didn't mean to," I said honestly. "It just . . . happened."

Lyander glanced over at me and smirked again, now fully composed and adjusting his cuffs like he hadn't just been tackled and manhandled by two enraged older brothers. "Well, I can't blame her."

"Shut up, Lyander," all three of us said in unison.

In the end, all three of us stayed at the villa—me, Lyander, and my brothers, Ren and Ray.

====

It wasn't exactly what I imagined when I thought of "settling down," but there was something strange and comforting about it.

Like we had reached a pause in a book—between chapters, maybe—but none of us wanted to close the cover just yet.

A few days after everything calmed down, my parents called. I was dreading it, honestly. But when I answered and told them where I was—and more importantly, who I was with—they went silent for a full five seconds.

"Lyander De Santis?" my mother finally repeated, like I'd just told her I was dating a fallen god. "That Lyander?"

"The one and only," I replied cautiously, bracing for the storm.

But to my surprise . . . it didn't come.

Instead of the immediate explosion of concern and resistance I was expecting, my mother simply exhaled and said, "Well . . . that's unexpected."

I heard my father muttering something in the background about bloodlines and troublemakers.

And then, as if they'd both reached a silent understanding, my parents asked to speak to Lyander directly.

He didn't hesitate. He took the phone from me with a calm, almost regal expression—like he was accepting a challenge he'd been preparing for his entire life.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Lee," he greeted them, polite but confident. "It's an honor to speak with you."

This version is sourced from MV3L3MPYR.

There was a pause on the other end.

Then came my mother's voice—sharp, but not unkind.

"Are you sure you want to be with our daughter, Mr. De Santis? I love her dearly, but she's . . . well, she's not exactly housewife material. She's a storm in boots. She breaks things when she's upset. She rarely measures ingredients when she bakes."

I winced. "Thanks, Mom."

Lyander chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, Mother. I've seen her baking. It's more magic than science anyway, and I like it."

"Hoi!" I glared at him.

Then came my father, his voice low and protective. "She's my only baby girl," he said firmly. "Of course she won't be a housewife. She's our little princess—and any man who wants to be with her better treat her like a Queen."

Lyander didn't flinch. His voice was steady, serious, and warm when he responded.

"I understand," he said. "And I swear to both of you—I will take care of Iraya. Not just like a Queen . . . but like she's my whole world. Because she is."

My face burned.

The line went quiet for a moment.

And then, surprisingly, my mother said, "Well, that's romantic."

"You sound sincere," my father added cautiously. "Be careful, I take promises seriously."

"I am," Lyander said. "I don't make promises lightly. And Iraya is someone I never want to disappoint."

I watched his profile as he spoke—calm, unwavering, the kind of man you trusted with not just your heart, but your whole future.

I realized then that my parents weren't just hearing words. They were hearing something they never expected from a man with a reputation like his: honesty.

Lyander was many things—mysterious, reckless, maybe even a little dangerous. He wasn't the type of man you could easily place into a neat, safe category.

Some called him a bad boy, others a troublemaker in a tailored suit. But if there was one thing I learned in the months I'd known him, it was this:

His words were like steel.

He didn't speak lightly, and when he made a promise, he meant it. There was weight behind every vow he gave, a kind of quiet intensity that made you believe him even when everything else felt uncertain.

In a world where people changed their minds as easily as their clothes, Lyander stood out—unyielding, grounded, and fiercely loyal to the things he said out loud.

He wasn't perfect. God, he was far from it.

But when he looked you in the eye and told you he'd be there . . . he would be. And that, more than anything else, was what made me trust him.

Because in the end, anyone can say they love you—but not everyone will keep showing up to prove it.

After a few more exchanged pleasantries and a reluctant "we'll visit soon to meet you properly," the call ended.

Lyander handed the phone back to me and arched a brow. "Do I pass?"

I laughed, still a little stunned. "My mom didn't interrogate you for half an hour, so that's basically a standing ovation."

"Your father scares me more," he muttered under his breath.

"You should."

We both laughed, and for the first time, I felt something shift. Like the future wasn't a terrifying void anymore. It had shape. It had warmth.

That night, I found myself curled up next to Lyander in front of the fire, Ren and Ray bickering over something ridiculous in the background. The villa wasn't quiet, but it was peaceful. Familiar. Home.

It wasn't perfect.

But it was real.

And that, I realized, was more than enough.