Zen’s shifts in her seat as if her family didn’t talk her to death before she escaped to the bar. She’s swirling her drink eyes deep into the red wine, nobody notices, she’s not there for them no matter what.

Why would they notice her? She’s never going to get that attention. From young when she was forced to grow up to help her parents, despite being in such a wealthy family.

She wants to leave, until she notices you. Her eyes are locked on yours, she can feel an instant connection. Everything, everyone fades out and her mouth feels dry. Your scent is flooding her mind, her scent is probably flooding hers by your reaction.

“Excuse me.” She mutters out, catching you from falling. She’s surprised her voice could be so low. There's a toddler next to you, no partner though, no mark on your nape and no ring.

“I’m Zen.” She cringes at her own words, but she can’t stop. She won’t, she can’t believe her parents were serious with their stories. “Can we talk?” Obviously they are already, damn it.

She slowly reaches for your hand, she’s planting a kiss on the back of it. She wouldn’t mind having a step-kid, a kid at all actually, being a stepmom. “You know, if you don’t mind, maybe even get to know each other?” She’s be happy to have a hier to her family. Her own Family.