Selene jolted back to reality, her gaze locking onto Eros, who was watching her with quiet concern. The throbbing in her head and the queasiness in her stomach vanished in an instant—just like that night, when she first read the vows he had written. The sensation was unsettlingly familiar, yet before she could dwell on it, the weight of expectation settled on her shoulders. The crowd and the MC stood waiting, eyes fixed on her, anticipating the next step.
Swallowing hard, she steadied herself, remembering her role—the missing bride's stand-in for the demonstration. This was her cue. She had to finish reciting her own vows before moving on.
As the MC spoke, he gestured toward the camera, explaining to the recording staff that couples could choose to rewrite their original wedding vows or craft entirely new ones—simple yet meaningful promises. He also mentioned the Vow Assistance Desk at Heartwood, a place where hesitant lovers could seek guidance. But Selene barely processed his words. Her mind was still bothered by the ghostly sensation from earlier.
Had Eros felt it too?
Stealing a glance at him, she searched for any sign—any flicker of dizziness or recognition. But his expression remained unchanged, smooth as ever. If something had happened to him, he wasn't showing it. Instead, he caught her staring and raised a single brow in silent question.
She quickly shook her head and turned back to the MC, waiting for the next instructions.
"This time, we'll proceed with the exchange of rings," the MC announced.
A staff member stepped forward, handing Eros the wedding band. Without hesitation, he reached for her hand, his touch warm yet steady as he slid the ring onto her finger. Selene mirrored the motion, slipping the band onto his hand in return.
Throughout the exchange, the MC continued narrating, explaining that couples could choose new rings or re-bless the ones they already had, reinforcing their commitment. Then, he guided them toward a small ceremonial table adorned with candles, a glass jar filled with sand, caged doves, and unlit lanterns.
Eros moved behind her, his hands gently covering hers as they reached for the candle. The warmth of his touch sent an unexpected shiver down her spine—she wasn't used to this closeness. Yet, as if sensing her hesitation, Eros remained composed, guiding her movements as they lit the candle together.
One by one, they completed the rituals—pouring sand into the jar, releasing the doves into the open sky, and finally, setting the lanterns ablaze. Through it all, the MC spoke, detailing the significance of each step for the absent couple who would follow in their place.
But for Selene, the ceremony blurred into something else entirely. The unease from earlier still lingered at the edge of her mind. Whatever had just happened during the vows—it wasn't normal. And even as the ceremony moved forward, she couldn't shake the feeling that it meant something.
"You may now kiss the bride!"
The MC's voice sliced through Selene's thoughts like a thunderclap, yanking her straight out of whatever reality she'd been in. Her entire body went stiff, her soul practically yeeted into another dimension. Shock crashed over her face, as if she had just seen a full-bodied ghost pop up and ask her for a dance. The crowd exploded. Cheers, high-pitched squeals, and the kind of dramatic gasps usually reserved for soap opera betrayals filled the room.
Selene's head snapped toward the MC. Then to Eros. Back to the MC. Back to Eros. Again. Yep, he looked just as blindsided as she felt. But then—no. His expression shifted. His lips curled into a smirk so devilish it could've belonged to a rom-com villain about to pull off the most outrageous stunt of the century. He took a step forward.
Selene, now officially in fight-or-flight mode, chose flight—stumbling backward with the grace of a deer on roller skates. Unfortunately, she forgot about the very small issue of being on a platform. Her foot hit the edge, and before she could even process the impending disaster, an arm snapped around her waist, yanking her forward with swift precision.
The crowd lost their collective minds.
Even the MC, who had only been teasing them for a bit, now stood there slack-jawed, questioning his own life choices.
Selene, heart hammering like a drum solo, found herself flush against Eros. Her fingers clung to the sleeve of his dress shirt as if it were a lifeline, while his hand remained firmly around her waist. Then, as if this wasn't already a nightmare in 4K Ultra HD, Eros leaned in—agonizingly slow.
Selene's brain immediately malfunctioned.
What is happening? Why is he doing this? Wasn't he just as mortified as me?! What the fuck is this?!
The closer he got, the wilder the crowd became. A few dramatic souls outright screamed, "NOOOO!" as if witnessing their 10-year childhood heartthrob crush getting stolen away in real-time.
Selene wasn't even sure he was capable of looking like that—of genuine sincerity, of something so heartbreakingly earnest that it made her chest feel tight, suffocatingly so. It was like seeing a stray cat, notorious for dodging affection, suddenly curl up in someone's lap. It didn't make sense. It was Eros, the guy who strutted around like he owned the universe, the one who always had a cocky smirk in his back pocket.
And yet, here he was—his gaze locked onto hers, the mischief in his eyes dimmed into something unreadable, something dangerous.
Her breath hitched.
Her heart didn't just race; it tried to evacuate the premises. It slammed against her ribs like a prisoner rattling the bars of a cage, desperate for escape. Every nerve in her body tensed, screaming at her to DO SOMETHING—run, fight, scream, laugh it off—anything. But all she could do was stand there, trapped in the heavy air between them as his face inched closer, and closer
Oh god.
Her vision blurred at the edges. Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides, knuckles turning white. Her stomach twisted itself into a pretzel, then tied itself into another one for good measure.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Not gracefully, not like a romantic heroine surrendering to passion, but like someone about to be doused with cold water in public. Her entire face scrunched up, muscles bracing as if she were about to get stabbed with the world's largest syringe—except the vaccine was pure, undiluted embarrassment.
The moment stretched.
The crowd roared—cheers, squeals, someone somewhere wailing like they'd just lost the love of their life.
And then
nothing.
No sudden warmth. No soft pressure. No lips brushing against hers. Not even a grazing touch.
Only—
Breath.
Right by her ear.
Warm. Slow. Devastating.
Selene shuddered. Her entire body betrayed her, tingling at the sensation before her brain could catch up and register what was happening.
And then—
In the smoothest, most disgustingly sultry, soul-ruining, knee-buckling voice she had ever heard, Eros whispered.
"Just kidding."
Selene's eyes snapped open.
The world tilted.
Her face ignited—not blushing, not flushing, but full-on combusting. Redder than a fire alarm. Redder than her worst life decisions. Redder than the shame spiraling through every fiber of her being.
Meanwhile, Eros took three effortless, graceful, villain-level steps back, barely holding himself together before the dam broke. He doubled over. He HOWLED.
He clutched his stomach, shoulders shaking as he lost his absolute shit. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he laughed like he had just won the ultimate prank war of the century.
Selene?
Selene was horrified.
She stood there, frozen in disbelief, soul-crushing realization.
Her soul? Gone.
Her dignity? Dead on arrival.
Her urge to roundhouse kick him into another dimension? Immeasurable.
Why. The fuck. Did I react like that? What if he thinks I actually wanted to kiss him?
"Mr. Eros, it looks like you just broke a million hearts with that ending…" The MC spoke in the middle of bewilderment and amusement.
"Selene, be honest with me."
Elara suddenly halted, spinning on her heel so fast her skirt swished around her legs. She faced Selene head-on, arms crossed tightly over her chest—attempting, and spectacularly failing, to look serious. A playful glare flickered in her eyes as she furrowed her brows just enough to seem interrogative, but not enough to mask her curiosity.
Selene and Silas, caught off guard by the abrupt stop, instinctively froze in place as well.
Elara took a deep breath, puffed up her cheeks, then exhaled sharply before dramatically furrowing her brows. "Are you dating Eros?"
Silence.
Then—
"Dating Eros?!"
The words exploded out of her as she practically choked on her own disbelief. A loud scoff tumbled out right after, as if her body needed to physically reject the preposterous accusation. Her hands flailed slightly, her expression twisted between offense and sheer shock, as if Elara had just accused her of high treason.
But before she could even process further, a voice interrupted—
"What? Eros? Dating?!"
Selene and Elara both snapped their heads toward the source.
It was Silas.
Except—
Silas, who had been the epitome of calm and indifference just seconds ago, had done a full dramatic 360 spin—as if his brain had short-circuited from the sheer absurdity of the statement. His normally low, cool voice had cracked so high it sounded like his vocal cords had been yeeted into another dimension. His voice cracked—actually cracked—and went an entire octave higher than usual.
Selene and Elara snapped their heads toward him in unison, their shock now redirected. They stared, astonished—not at the question itself, but at the fact that Silas, of all people, could produce a reaction like that. A thick, stunned silence stretched between them, their shock no longer at Elara's question—but at Silas' sheer overreaction. Selene tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. Why was he more shocked than me?
Elara squinted at him, visibly rethinking everything she knew about Silas. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she clapped her hands together in realization. "Oh! Right! You weren't at the dress rehearsal for the vow renewal, were you?"
Silas, who was clearly trying to keep his composure, desperately trying to recover from his slip-up, cleared his throat and simply gave a short, curt nod. His face was blank, but his previous outburst had already exposed him.
Elara, completely dismissing his existence, waved him off with one hand as if explaining the whole thing wasn't worth the effort. Whatever. He didn't need context. Instead, she turned back to Selene, shaking her hands frantically. "I wouldn't mind if you guys were dating! I just wish you'd tell me—I don't wanna be a homewrecker or something…" She trailed off, shifting awkwardly on her feet.
She hesitated, tilting her head, fingers tapping against her chin.
"Wait, is it still called homewrecking if you're not married? Like, would it be… pre-homewrecking? Proto-wrecking? Wrecking in beta?"
Selene's eye twitched. "Elara." She barely had a second to respond before—
Elara straightened. "Right, anyway—the point is—"
"But then you guys totally kissed!"
"KISSED?!"
The word exploded into the air in perfect stereo, but Selene wasn't even the loudest one.
She turned, only to find Silas looking more scandalized than her—he once again, one-upped her. His voice shot up so ridiculously high that even Elara flinched. Selene whipped her head around, eyes wide as she stared at Silas.
Was he the one who got kissed or what?
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Why was he acting like this?
Elara instinctively took a step back, caught off guard by their synchronized horror. But what threw her off even more was Silas' reaction specifically. Why was he acting so weird about this?
Still, she held her ground, nodding firmly. "Did you not?"
Silas had fully turned to Selene now, trying desperately to appear indifferent. His face remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed him—laser-focused, waiting for her answer, but also pretending like he wasn't waiting for her answer.
Selene let out another scoff, shaking her head so hard it was a miracle she didn't give herself whiplash. "No. He didn't kiss me, and I wouldn't let him."
Elara frowned. "But… it totally looked like you did?"
Selene paused.
And then, it hit her.
The memory of what had actually happened came flooding back.
Eros. The teasing smirk. His face inches from hers. The whisper, too close for comfort. The crowd watching from an unfortunate angle—
Selene's face immediately heated up.
Not from flustered emotions. No. From sheer, unadulterated embarrassment.
She wanted to dig a hole and throw Eros into it. And then jump in after him just to strangle him.
Forcing out the most awkward laugh known to mankind, she abruptly grabbed Silas' wrist, yanking him with zero hesitation. "Yeah! Speaking of rehearsals—me and Silas have to practice for our part in the event!"
Silas, who had zero say in this decision, barely had time to process before he was being dragged away at full speed.
Elara blinked. "Wait—hey! I wasn't done!" She reached out, but Selene was already zooming through the hallway, dodging further interrogation like her life depended on it.
Silas, still being forcibly escorted, sighed. "So I take it the answer is complicated?"
Selene groaned. "No, the answer is 'I'm gonna commit my first murder'"
Silas simply hummed in agreement. "I know a good burial spot."
Selene slouched in her office chair, spinning it ever so slowly like a villain in a spy movie—except instead of plotting world domination, she was begrudgingly flipping through a stack of documents dumped on her by the Event Department. She hadn't been exaggerating when she told Silas that they were both knee-deep in this Renewal of Vows event. Day two, Saturday, featured two of Silas' clients as doting husbands, while one of Selene's clients was among the glowing brides. They were expected to give a speech about how much their patients have grown, and progressed over their stay at Heartwood.
Just as she adjusted her posture—purely to avoid looking like a gremlin—the office door chimed. She glanced up just in time to see Silas stride in, clearing his throat and holding up a coffee cup holder like some kind of peace offering. Two cups. Classic.
Selene smiled as he set them down in front of her. "You didn't have to. I already have one." She grabbed her existing cup from the desk and took a sip, wiggling it in the air as proof.
Silas narrowed his eyes, tilting his head like a confused golden retriever. "Since when do you drink coffee from our office machine?"
Instead of answering, Selene popped the lid off and held the cup up to him with a knowing grin. "Try it."
Silas eyed her with suspicion, then hesitantly took the cup, bringing it to his lips for a cautious sip. The moment the liquid hit his taste buds, his eyes widened like she had just handed him the elixir of life. He immediately took another sip, this time slower, as if trying to decipher its secrets. What the actual fuck?
Selene, fully expecting this reaction, burst into laughter. But as she looked back at Silas, she noticed something—he was staring at her, blinking innocently, lips slightly parted. And right there, on his upper lip, sat a perfect little mustache of coffee foam.
Without thinking, she reached out, cupping his face as if he were a toddler who had just made a mess. With the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times, she wiped away the foam with her thumb, then—because apparently, her autopilot was set to 'overbearing nanny'—she used the back of her pointer finger to swipe the remaining coffee from his lower lip.
Silas froze.
His entire body locked up like a robot experiencing a system error. The coffee cup in his hand hit the desk with an audible thunk.
Selene's brain finally caught up to her actions. Her eyes went wide as she abruptly yanked her hands back, practically yeeting herself into the back of her chair. She awkwardly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and forced out the world's most unconvincing laugh. "Uh—haha—sorry. Force of habit. Used to looking after kids and all." She waved her hand dismissively, avoiding eye contact like her life depended on it. Then, desperate to steer the conversation away from whatever just happened, she cleared her throat and blurted, "But—it was good, right?"
Silas, still sitting there like a man who had just experienced a religious awakening, swallowed hard before nodding. "Yeah… how did you make this?" He asked, already bringing the cup back to his lips for another sip.
Selene shrugged. "Oh, Eros made that."
Silas choked.
Coughing violently, he hurriedly placed the cup down and clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes darting between Selene and the coffee like it had just betrayed him.
Selene frowned, alarmed. "Are you okay?" She snatched a few tissues and handed them to him.
Silas dabbed at his lips with the tissue, glaring at the coffee cup as if it had personally wronged him. Then, without a word, he scoffed, reached for the Iced Americano he had originally bought for himself, and stabbed a straw into it with unnecessary force.
"It's not even all that," he muttered, taking a defiant sip, but his eyes betrayed him as they lingered back to the Caramel Macchiato he had meant to give Selene. Too late, once again.
"EROS!!"
The door slammed open with the subtlety of a war declaration, rattling the picture frames and causing the poor potted plant in the corner to tremble like it had PTSD. Aretha stormed in like a hurricane in high heels, her face pinched tighter than a corset in the 1800s, eyebrows furrowed so hard they could've cut diamonds. Her hands snapped to her hips in a stance that screamed I'm two seconds away from smiting someone, feet planted wide as if she was ready to wrestle him out of his seat.
Eros, who had been lounging like a sunbathing cat, feet kicked up on his desk, posture exuding the essence of bare minimum energy, shot up like a soldier caught napping during roll call. Papers fluttered to the floor like panicked birds.
"God, like my day wasn't chaotic enough," he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he blinked at the walking thundercloud that was Aretha. He sat back down, dramatically calm now, picking up a folder titled 'Renewal Vows & Disaster Control – Urgent', and casually skimmed it like none of this was happening.
"Have you ever heard of knocking?" he said, mimicking her shrill tone with the accuracy of a shady parrot. "Where are your manners?"
Aretha scoffed, arms crossing with the elegance of a guillotine being lowered.
"That's my line whenever you invade my office like a frat boy looking for free beer."
Eros chuckled under his breath. "Touché."
But Aretha wasn't here to exchange witty banter. She stormed up to his desk and slammed her palms down, the sound echoing through the office like a courtroom objection.
"What's this I hear about you getting too touchy with a doctor?" she snapped, leaning in with eyes narrowed like a hawk spotting prey. "Did you not learn anything about work ethics? What if she files a lawsuit!"
She pinched the bridge of her nose, a migraine forming from simply being in the same room as him. Eros tilted his head and smiled like a smug cat that just broke a vase. "Relax, she knows I was joking. We're close." He waved a dismissive hand, as if legal action was just bad weather.
Aretha was trying very hard not to strangle him with the lanyard around his neck. "How can you be so sure?"
Eros leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling with a hum, then said, "We got closer when I saw her in Verdant Elysium and—" He abruptly paused. Something flickered across his expression—a rare glimpse of hesitation. Embarrassment? No. Something heavier. Something he didn't want to put into words. Out of respect, for the things that actually happened in the garden.
"Yeah, anyway," he waved it off, "She's pretty chill."
"'Chill'?" Aretha repeated the word like it personally offended her ancestry.
Eros rolled his eyes, shooting her a lazy glare. "It's slang, Your Majesty. It means she's cool. Laidback. You know, not made of marble and rage."
Aretha pointed a sharp finger at him, her nails a weapon in themselves. "Don't bring that slang back to Olympus. We have standards."
Eros raised a finger to his lips, mockingly shushing her. "Thou shalt not panic. Thou shalt not overreact. Thou shalt take a joke."
Then he saw the look—the death glare that could turn gods to dust. He straightened up slightly, cleared his throat like a child caught mid-prank.
"Okay, okay," he muttered. "Let's all breathe. Nothing escalated. I didn't even kiss Selene!"
Aretha's body stilled like a statue, something in her frame going rigid as a spear.
"Selene?" she echoed.
Eros nodded, missing the drop in temperature, the way shadows seemed to stretch just a little further in the room. "Yeah, didn't you see the video? The MC picked her for the demo bride role."
There was silence. Not the awkward kind. The heavy, suspenseful kind that seemed to settle like fog.
A minute stretched to two, until Eros finally noticed the shift in mood.
"Just be careful," Aretha said finally, her voice low and unfamiliar. Like she wasn't talking to him anymore, but to something watching them both. She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
"Stupid Cupid," she muttered under her breath.
Eros blinked, eyebrows raised. That was different.
She didn't say it like a joke.
She said it like a warning.
As the door clicked shut behind her, a strange feeling crept up Eros' spine—unwelcome and cold. Like the chill that arrives just before a storm.
So it's starting, Aretha thought, seeming bothered as her heels echoing down the hallway.
And somewhere, unseen or unheard by them both, the winds howled a little too loud.