Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 59

Chapter 59:  Operation: Zoo Date 2

(Featuring One Bunny, One Dragon, One Gorilla, and a Dog)

Zatariel's Point of View

The moment we stepped into the butterfly garden, I swear the whole world exhaled.

No cameras.
No press.
No billionaires trying to auction off bunny-shaped promises.

Just humid glass walls, the soft breath of flowers, and butterflies drifting through the air like slow jazz written by nature.

Jayson—our resident fortress—tapped his wrist once.

CCTV temporarily disabled.

He muttered something under his breath about "ethical violations" before turning his back to us, arms crossed like a living firewall.

Good man.
Great master.

Generously allowing us a few minutes of the sin we were definitely about to commit.

The garden itself wasn't even that big. More like a luxury greenhouse on sedatives—lush, warm, and faintly sticky. Butterflies floated lazily between heavy vines and little wooden benches someone probably paid ten million pesos to make look "casually rustic."

Miexha stood beneath an arch of blooming wisteria, her eyes wide with wonder.

She pointed at a blue-winged butterfly drifting past.

"They look fake," she whispered.
"Like moving stickers."

God help me. My brain stopped working.

I stepped closer and gently took her hand.

Delicate. Cold. Slightly trembling.

Then she smiled at me.

"I always thought butterflies were just moths with better marketing," I murmured.
"But you make them look sacred."

She blinked.

Then squeezed my hand softly.

"You always say strange things, Riel... but when you say them, they sound like magic."

Great.

I might actually die here.

Behind us, Asha sauntered in wearing heart-shaped sunglasses like a delinquent pop star. She handed Jayson a cone of vanilla ice cream.

He accepted it with the mechanical grace of a man trying very hard not to think about how his fiancée was currently holding another man's hand.

He didn't turn around.
Didn't say a word.

Just stood there like a presidential statue with extra abs.

Ice cream in one hand.
National security in the other.

Meanwhile, Miexha leaned slightly into me.

Not fully.
Just enough that her shoulder brushed mine.

And somehow that tiny contact felt louder than thunder.

Then—

Jayson's wrist buzzed. Loudly.

All of us looked at him.

He glanced down at the message, and I watched his soul quietly pack its bags.

"Lunch time," he said flatly.
"Restaurant wing. Full press attendance."

Ah.

Miexha blinked, still half-lost in butterfly magic. Her fingers slipped from mine like a goodbye that didn't know it was one yet.