Chapter Forty-Seven: Azure Shores
(Ria's POV)
The morning after the American wedding reception, I woke to the soft hum of waves outside the window. The enormous suite felt impossibly quiet compared to the chaos of the last few days. My heart was still pounding, a mix of exhaustion and the surreal thrill of finally being married to Miles.
A small note sat on the nightstand, written in his looping handwriting:
"Pack your bags. Adventure awaits. Azure Shores. —M"
I blinked, half-laughing, half-panicking. Miles had actually planned a honeymoon. A real one. For us.
By mid-morning, we were on a private flight, the clouds stretching like whipped cream beneath us. Miles leaned back in his seat, arm draped casually across the headrest, eyes never leaving me.
"You look nervous," he said, voice teasing.
"I'm not nervous," I lied, though my stomach did a little somersault. "I just… this feels unreal."
He smirked. "Unreal? Threads… we survived a wedding, your family, my family… and somehow, we're still standing. This? This is easy."
I laughed, swatting his arm. "Easy for you. You didn't spend three hours in a silk gown worrying if your veil was straight."
Hours later, we landed in Azure Shores — a small, fictional paradise Miles had kept secret until now. Turquoise waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sun turning the sand into molten gold. Our villa overlooked the water, whitewashed with floor-to-ceiling windows, a wraparound balcony, and a private stretch of beach.
"I take it you like it?" Miles asked, eyebrow raised, as I stared in awe.
"Like it?" I whispered, breathless. "I… I'm speechless."
He grinned, pulling me close. "Good. I like it when you're impressed."
The days passed in a blur of sun and laughter. We walked barefoot along the shore, our toes sinking into warm sand, sometimes chasing each other with the reckless energy of teenagers, other times just holding hands and talking quietly.
We explored the tiny markets tucked along the coastline, sampling exotic fruits and sweets. Miles insisted on haggling like it was a sport, though he always let me win.
"You cheated!" I laughed, holding a small basket of coconuts.
"I didn't cheat," he said, mock indignation. "I just… strategically manipulated the seller's emotions. Same thing."
I rolled my eyes but kissed his cheek anyway. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he said softly, brushing his thumb across the back of my hand, "you love me."
"Unfortunately," I muttered, leaning into him.
Evenings were quieter, filled with candlelight dinners on the balcony. The ocean stretched endlessly beneath us, waves glimmering under the moonlight. We talked about everything — our future in the mansion he'd inherit, college plans, dreams, fears, and even little inside jokes from the past few years.
One night, after a long walk along the shore, I sat on the sand as Miles wrapped a blanket around us. "Threads…" he said, voice low, "I've loved you from the moment you punched me. And I'm going to keep loving you, forever."
I smiled, heart thudding. "Forever is a long time, but… I think I can handle it with you."
He leaned down, kissing my temple softly. "Good. Because we have a lifetime ahead of us."
There were quiet mornings too — coffee on the balcony, Miles teasing me about how badly I burned my toast, me retaliating by flicking sugar at him. Laughter echoed across the waves. I could feel the weight of the world falling away, replaced by this small, perfect bubble that was just us.
I realized something: home wasn't a place anymore. Home was Miles, the sound of the ocean, the sand under our feet, the warmth of his hand in mine.
And though the honeymoon would eventually end, and Aldridge would await us with the rest of our life, I knew one thing for certain: this — us — was forever.