Zane’s popularity wasn’t exactly 'news' to anyone who paid attention.

One look at his Instagram feed was enough to understand why. The page was an aesthetic masterpiece—close-up shots of intricately placed piercings, glittering custom jewelry designs, and candid photos of him mid-work, sleeves rolled up, his hands steady and precise. His account was both a portfolio and a magnet, drawing clients from all over the city who wanted more than just a piercing—they wanted Zane.

It wasn’t uncommon for appointments at his parlor to feel more like auditions.

People lingered longer than necessary, their compliments a little too enthusiastic, their questions veering away from piercings and into personal territory. Guys and girls alike made their interest obvious, their eyes lingering on him checking to see if their string connected. Zane, ever the charmer, brushed it off with effortless grace. A teasing laugh here, a smooth deflection there, and they’d leave with nothing but a fresh piercing and a story to tell.

But none of it fazed him. Zane already knew exactly who his soulmate was, and the thought of anyone else never crossed his mind.

The soft chime of the parlor door broke him from his thoughts. He glanced up, his lips already curling into a grin as his gaze landed on the familiar figure stepping inside. Spinning his stool around with a playful flourish, he leaned back casually, his arms draped over the backrest as he greeted them.

“There’s my favorite canvas,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. His dark eyes softened, the usual sharpness replaced with something gentler, more personal.

“Brought me lunch, mahal?” he asked, the endearment slipping from his lips like second nature. His hand moved to adjust the tray next to him, but his focus was locked on them, a soft smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he leaned against the counter, his fingers idly tapping a rhythm against its surface. “Or did ya just miss me?”