Rebirth: Love me Again

[EVE]

So, I had to return to New York after spending nearly four months in Frizkiel.

As much as I didn't want to leave, I had no choice. My business back in the city had gone stagnant during my absence, and work had piled up like a skyscraper made of stress.

What was supposed to be a short vacation and a heartwarming reunion with my family had turned into an extended stay—one that I didn't regret, but definitely had consequences waiting back home.

Hyun had already called me so many times, it was starting to feel like I had accidentally ghosted my clingy boy-friend—which, for the record, I hadn't. Not technically.

He kept insisting that I come back, whining that he missed me, and dropping guilt-bombs like, "I can't eat properly without you," and "The office plants are dying because no one scolds me about overwatering them." Classic Hyun.

Michael, on the other hand, had found inspiration—again. Apparently, a new breakthrough with the nanobots he was developing had hit him in the middle of the night (while brushing his teeth, no less), and now he couldn't wait to test it out.

"Eve," he said in one of his calls, his voice buzzing with scientific glee, "I need you to come back. I need a fresh perspective, and you're the only one who can challenge my logic without breaking my spirit." It was his way of telling me that he needed normal mundane brain like mine not the brain of geniuses in his lab. How flattering.

Sinclair was his usual cryptic self. He never directly said he missed me, but every time he called, he'd drop subtle questions like, "So . . . when do you think you'll be back?" or "It must be nice having a slow life, huh?" Translation: Get back here before I start sending carrier pigeons.

Then there was Victor. Oh, Victor. He didn't even try to hide it. He messaged me constantly—texts, emails, voice notes, you name it. At one point, he even wrote me a letter. A handwritten one. Who still does that in this digital age? Apparently Victor, who signed it with: "Come back already. I don't like it that you're being away and I can't see you."

The man was practically begging me to return, albeit in his own grumpy, emotionally constipated way.

But nothing surprised me more than when he actually flew to Frizkiel.

Yes, he flew to Frizkiel. Along with Sinclair. And Sebastian. I had barely woken up that morning when all three of them appeared at the gates of our estate looking tired, jet-lagged, and—dare I say it—concerned.

Apparently, their spontaneous "surprise visit" wasn't just because they missed me (though I suspect that played a part). They also wanted to verify that I was safe. That I was with my real family. After everything that had happened with Dave, Helen, and their lovely backstabbing children, no one blamed them for being suspicious. Honestly? I didn't either.

I was touched. Annoyed, yes. But deeply touched.

Sinclair interviewed every member of the Frizkiel household like a suspicious dad meeting his daughter's new boyfriend. Victor snooped quietly but thoroughly, making mental notes and subtle observations. And Sebastian? He just smiled, wag his tail, and gave me this gentle look that made me feel like he already knew everything would be okay—but he still wanted to see it for himself.

When the day of their departure finally came, you'd think we were filming some dramatic farewell scene from a tragic romance drama. You know the type—tearful goodbyes, heartfelt declarations, slow-motion hugs. Except in our case, it involved grown men trying to pretend they weren't emotionally devastated while also sneakily finding excuses to cancel their flights.

Sinclair, usually the master of logic and poise, stood by the car, arms crossed and jaw tense. He kept checking his phone and muttering things like, "Just a few more hours won't make a difference," and "The jet can wait. Jets don't have feelings." Classic denial.

But even he couldn't hide the reluctant weight in his voice or the way he lingered near the garden, trying to memorize every corner like he wasn't coming back next week.

Sebastian was calmer than the others—no drama, no grand declarations. But he didn't have to say much; everything was in the way he looked at me. His licks lingered just a moment longer than necessary, just enough for me to feel the warmth he never quite knew how to express with words. His eyes held mine with that silent, steadfast kind of loyalty that said, I'm still here. I've always been here.

And honestly? Sebastian was a dog.

Not in a bad way. In the golden retriever who'd follow you to the ends of the earth and sit beside you in silence because words aren't always needed kind of way.

Loyal to a fault, ridiculously protective, and quietly affectionate. The kind of guy who wouldn't bark unless someone messed with me—then suddenly? Full wolf mode.

Sebastian didn't do tears. But his tail definitely been thumping against the floor.

But the real drama? That belonged entirely to Victor.

Victor, the grumpiest of the bunch, the man who usually had the emotional expression of a broken light bulb, suddenly refused to get in the car.

"I'll stay here," he said flatly, setting his laptop on the breakfast table like he lived there now. "I can work remotely. You all go ahead."

"Victor," Sinclair warned, already sounding exhausted.

"I've already set up a VPN, a secure satellite line, and I ordered an ergonomic chair to be delivered tomorrow. I'm not leaving."

I blinked. "You ordered furniture?"

He nodded without shame. "Also had a desk shipped. And a humidifier."

"You're not living here. Get out," Dean said, his voice cold enough to chill the thermostat. "And what do you need humidifier for? Frizkiel is freezing."

I blinked. Was he serious?

Before I could respond, Dante chimed in—because of course, the resident mad doctor couldn't be outdone.

"You're not feeling well in the head, are you?" he said sweetly. Too sweetly. "Why don't I check your brains, hmm?" And then he smiled. A creepy smile. A serial-killer-who-watches-romcoms-for-fun kind of smile.

Oh, and he had a scalpel in hand. A scalpel.

Where did he even hide that thing? His sock? His hair? Did he just materialize surgical tools when emotionally unstable?