Chapter 24 Ted POV
Today is the first official day of the contract.
I wake up to soft light filtering through sheer white curtains, the scent of fresh linen clinging to the air. The room is still and serene, like a painting left undisturbed for decades. When I walk over to the closet, I blink in surprise—the clothes from yesterday have already been unpacked and arranged with careful precision. When did they do this?
I change into a simple pair of cream shorts and a pale blue button-up shirt. The material is soft, breathable, expensive. It fits me perfectly. I do my best to follow Frida's instructions from yesterday.
Her voice echoes in my head as I apply the products with care, trying not to overthink the newness of this life. I maintain the curls in my hair and brush my teeth, and when I finally step out of the room, a few servants nod politely—or bow. I still don't know how to respond to that.
Niall had texted me earlier.
Find me in the greenhouse.
So I do what I never thought I would—ask for directions and follow them past vine-draped halls and soft cobbled paths to a glass dome large enough to be its own world.
When I step into the greenhouse, the air changes. It's warm, but not stifling, rich with the scent of life and earth. The colors hit me like a brushstroke—explosions of orange, pink, blue, green, white. Flowers bloom in organized chaos, tangled and alive. There's a long rectangular body of water running through the center, clear as glass, and in it swim iridescent fish. Petals occasionally fall into the water, floating lazily.
It's like stepping into someone's dream.
And there, at the center, squatting near a bed of electric-blue flowers, is Niall.
His raven-black hair is tied into a loose ponytail that falls down his back. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing lean forearms dusted with soil. His hands are careful, patient, as he pulls weeds with a small curved tool. I approach him quietly.
He doesn't notice me right away. Not until I'm nearly next to him.
He looks up.
"Hey," he says, and smiles.
The morning light strikes his face just right. For a second, it feels like my breath catches. His eyes reflect the sun—at first they look blue, but as I stare longer, I see it: a ring of green around the pupils. Vivid. Bright. Like a dream.
"Hi," I say.
He chuckles as I crouch beside him.
"Checking in on my dad's babies," he explains, tapping a flower petal. It shivers at his touch and sways like it's dancing. Magic.
I smile before I can stop myself.
"In love with me yet?" he asks, and the teasing tone brings me back to reality.
"Really?" I give him a flat look.
"Just checking."
I shake my head. "What are we going to do today?"
"Relax," he says, tossing the weed he pulled to the side.
"I'm not going to woo you twenty-four-seven. You can let your guard down. Today we're just hanging out. And if you want space, say so. That's allowed, you know."
At that moment, a vine slithers toward him, lifting a watering can. It tips and releases a steady shower of droplets. The flowers bend and dance beneath the rain.
"Are you sure you're not on the losing end here?" I ask. It slips out before I can stop myself.
He turns to me, his expression softening.
"Am I?" he asks.
"I doubt it. I get to spend the next few months with someone I've been in love with since I first saw him sitting alone in a grimy little bar. You think I'm not getting anything out of this?"
I glance away, suddenly shy.
"We'll be here for some time," he continues, leaning back into the grass, one arm under his head.
"My parents' anniversary is in two weeks. After that, Mirelle's wedding might happen—depending on how she handles her bridal breakdown—and then it's my birthday. So… four, maybe five months on Alden Island. Think you can survive?"
I scoff lightly.
"Why would I mind? Alden Island is literally the dream destination for most otherworlders."
"Then welcome home," he says, and closes his eyes.
I don't respond. I just sit there, watching the water shimmer and the vines curl around his fingers, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this won't be as terrible as I feared.