Chapter Twenty-nine: Before the Skip (Ria's POV)
I'd faced midterms, difficult customers, and Maya's morning moods — but none of that prepared me for the terror of meeting Miles's parents.
"Relax," he said as he drove, his hand brushing mine on the gearshift. "You look like you're about to face a firing squad."
"I am," I hissed. "Your mom is an architect. Your dad runs a tech company. I work part-time at an ice cream shop and once cried over losing a spoon."
He grinned. "That's one of the reasons I love you."
"Because I cry over spoons?"
"Because you care about small things. You care too much, about everything." His voice softened. "It's what makes you you."
I didn't have a comeback for that.
When we pulled up to the Patel house — or mansion, more accurately — my first thought was: This place probably has its own zip code.
The house was glass and light, with a garden that looked straight out of a magazine. Miles took my hand as we walked up the path, and I realized for the first time — his hand was warm, steady, sure. Like he'd done this a hundred times.
I squeezed it tighter.
Inside, Mrs. Patel greeted us with a smile that could've powered the entire city. She was warm, graceful, and terrifyingly observant — the kind of woman who could tell your whole life story from your shoes.
"So you're the famous Ria," she said, eyes twinkling. "Miles never stops talking about you."
"Mom," Miles groaned.
I smiled awkwardly. "He talks about me?"
"All the time," she said with mock seriousness. "Though he leaves out the parts where you apparently punched him."
I froze. "He told you that?"
Miles coughed. "Selective honesty, Mother."
Mr. Patel laughed from across the room. "If she can knock some sense into you, son, she's already my favorite."
I couldn't help it — I laughed too.
Dinner was… surprisingly perfect. Miles's sister, Ava, kept sneaking glances at me like I was a zoo animal, then finally blurted, "You're prettier than the girls he used to date."
Miles choked on his water. I tried not to combust on the spot.
Mrs. Patel hid a smile. "Ava."
"What? I'm just saying—"
"Eat your broccoli."
Miles muttered under his breath, "Remind me to ground her."
I leaned in. "She's cute. You can't ground cute."
"She's a menace," he whispered back, eyes full of affection.
And suddenly, I saw it — this version of him that wasn't all teasing smirks and flirtation. This was home Miles. Softer. Real. The boy underneath the armor.
And for the first time, I thought — I could really, truly love him.
After dinner, his mom insisted on showing me the garden. The moonlight was soft, the air smelled like jasmine, and I could hear Miles laughing inside with his dad.
Mrs. Patel turned to me, her expression kind. "He's different with you, you know."
"Different?"
She smiled. "Calmer. More grounded. Miles… he's always been a little too sure of himself. But with you, he listens."
I didn't know what to say to that. My throat felt tight.
"He loves you," she said simply. "And I think you love him, too."
I looked down at my hands. "I do. Maybe too much."
She squeezed my shoulder gently. "There's no such thing."
On the drive back, we didn't talk much. It was that quiet kind of peace — the kind that hums under your skin, the kind that feels like the world holding its breath.
At a red light, Miles turned to me. "You were amazing tonight."
"Your mom thinks I'm a spoon-crying disaster."
He laughed. "She thinks you're the girl who made her son happy for the first time in years."
And just like that — I felt tears prick at my eyes.
He reached over, brushing his thumb along my jaw like he always did. "Don't cry, Threads."
"I'm not," I lied, voice cracking.
He smiled, but softer this time. "I know. You're just feeling everything at once. You always do."
He leaned in — slow, hesitant — and kissed me.
Not the rushed, hungry kind. This one was different. Gentle. Deep. Like a promise.
And in that moment, I believed every word his lips didn't say.
Later that night, as I lay awake staring at my ceiling, my phone buzzed.
Miles 👀: Still awake?
Ria: Yeah.
Miles 👀: I meant what I said. You're my home, Threads.
Ria: And you're mine.
I didn't know it then — that this would be one of the last nights like this before everything changed.
Before distance, years, and life itself would test us.
But that night, I fell asleep smiling — believing love could really last forever.