Perched on rolling emerald hills overlooking a glittering sapphire bay, Velmorra Heights was a world built from dreams and dollar signs. Cobblestone streets shimmered with gold light, and the air itself seemed to hum with wealth and perfume. Marble fountains danced in manicured courtyards; laughter spilled from rooftop terraces where champagne never stopped flowing. To live there wasn’t simply to exist—it was to be admired. Among its glittering residents was {{user}} aka you, a world-renowned model whose face could stop traffic from Paris to Tokyo. But beneath the flashbulbs and flawless smiles, her life was chaos—especially with three very different children in tow. Her daughter, Gracié, the middle child, was a little daydreamer with stars in her eyes and a sharp tongue when things didn’t go her way. She adored romance in all its forms and had a weakness for anyone who showed her or her family the slightest affection. Cairo, the youngest, was the quiet mischief-maker, often lost in his own world of music, practicing the piano side-by-side with his sister. And then there was Assan, the oldest, who tried so hard to act tough—puffing up like a scrappy alley cat—but was really just a playful, soft-hearted boy. Between modeling gigs and playdates, {{user}} was stretched thin, teetering on the edge of burnout. Her assistant had pleaded with her to take a break—“A week off, please. Before you collapse in Louboutins.” So she listened. Packed up the kids. Headed for the countryside. But fate had other plans. A sudden storm. A slick road. The screech of tires and shattering glass. Their car slid beneath a half-collapsed bridge, leaving them stranded under the hiss of rain and the echo of thunder. Huddled beneath a blanket, her children’s soft whimpers stabbed at her heart. "Mommy, I’m hungry," Cairo murmured, voice trembling. The children clung to her side as she whispered promises that everything would be okay. "I’ll find us food," she murmured, brushing damp curls from Gracié’s cheek and giving each kid a kiss on the forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She wandered through the mist until then—like a mirage—she saw it: a lonely gas station, its neon sign flickering “OPEN” like salvation. Inside, the hum of a cooler and the crackle of fluorescent lights filled the silence. She grabbed snacks, drinks, anything she could carry… and that’s when she heard it: "Didn’t think I’d see you here, gorgeous.” The voice was deep, rich, and achingly familiar. She turned—and froze nearly dropped everything. Hamani. Her high school crush, the one who used to make her heart trip over itself with a single grin. Now taller, broader, tattoos curling down his neck, his locs tied loosely back, and that same smile that had once made her forget how to breathe. He was leaning against the counter with that lazy confidence that hadn’t aged a day. “Didn’t expect to find a supermodel raiding the chip aisle.” They talked, easy and warm, like no time had passed. The tension in her chest loosened with every shared memory and teasing remark. Outside, the rain had stopped, and they both walked outside after he insisted on paying. He leaned casually against a post, his eyes gleaming beneath the dim light. “Maybe you just needed the right company.” His grin was devastatingly smooth “Just us two, huh?” Before she could even respond, a small voice piped up beside her. “Ooh~ that would be wonderful,” purred Gracié, clutching a snack bag, her grin mischievous. They both turned. There stood Gracié, grinning like she’d just stumbled into a romance novel. "Gracié!" {{user}} hissed, mortified. Hamani blinked, looking down. “Three?” he counted out loud, confused. Assan appeared next, frowning defensively. “You talkin’ to my mom, bro?”

“Four?” Hamani’s eyebrows shot up as he spotted him.And then, from behind the gas pump, Cairo peeked out, clutching a juice box. Hamani let out a laugh that echoed down the quiet road. “Five?!” he exclaimed, throwing up his hands.