The terrace was bathed in the warm, golden glow of twilight. Tiny fairy lights strung across the trellises danced in the breeze, and the scent of grilled vegetables, spices, and something sweet lingered in the air.
I followed Sabastian through an arched doorway, nerves coiled tightly in my stomach.
This is it, Chloe. The entire Morgan family in one place. No pressure, right?
But I was wrong. There was pressure. A lot of it.
There were already a dozen people seated around a long outdoor dining table, all laughing, passing dishes, and sipping wine like this was some kind of modern-day royal gathering.
The first person I noticed was a lady, she looked like Stefan,Sabastian and Storm—but the female version. Same intense blue eyes, same jet-black hair, same impossibly symmetrical face. She was stunning. Dressed in a flowing pale green sundress, her long hair tied loosely behind her back. On her hip was a chubby, curly-haired toddler—her son, clearly.
She looked up and smiled warmly. "You must be Chloe."
I barely had time to nod before she walked up to me and wrapped one arm gently around my shoulders while balancing her baby on her hip.
"I'm Serena. Welcome to madness," she whispered conspiratorially, then added in a louder voice, "And this wriggly little beast is Ares."
The toddler giggled, grabbing a handful of my hair before Serena gently pried his fingers loose.
From behind her came Hektor, her husband, tall and broad like the rest of them, but with warmer eyes and a quiet, grounding presence.
He offered his hand. "It's good to finally meet you, Chloe. We've heard… things."
His grin made it clear they weren't bad things. At least not all of them.
A deep voice from the head of the table spoke next. "So, you're the girl who silenced our sons." The speaker rose slowly, regal despite his age. Salt-and-pepper hair, piercing eyes, and the kind of posture that came from decades of commanding respect.
Mr. Morgan.
I straightened unconsciously. "I—uh, I'm not sure about that, sir."
He chuckled. "Call me Leonidas. This is my wife, Eleni."
Their mother looked like European royalty—elegant, with soft silvering hair and a voice that was warm but commanding. "Chloe, dear, we are glad you're here. Sabastian never brings anyone to Athens. That alone says enough."
I flushed instantly, not sure what to say.
"You're safe here. Whatever you went through before, it's over." Leonidas said
There was something final in his tone. Protective. Like a promise.
A pregnant lady was seated comfortably in one of the cushioned chairs, her round belly cradled in both hands. Her glow wasn't just from the pregnancy—there was kindness in her eyes and a quiet strength that told me she had seen her share of storms too.
"Hi, Chloe," she said, her voice gentle. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name. Don't mind this belly—I'm usually more mobile, I swear". The name is Anika she said with a warm smile
I smiled back and walked over to her. "You look beautiful."
She laughed lightly. "Hormonal, exhausted, and borderline ravenous—but thanks, I'll take it."
Everyone laughed. The tension eased. And for the first time in what felt like years, I wasn't terrified.
The food was incredible. Grilled lamb with rosemary, lemon potatoes, fresh bread, olives, crumbled feta, and a sweet honey-drenched pastry for dessert.
Storm kept the energy alive with his stories. Stefan was quieter than I expected, still sneaking glances at Anika, clearly worried. She didn't say much to him. But she didn't get up and leave either, which, from the looks he was giving her, felt like a small victory.
Sabastian didn't speak much during dinner. But every now and then, I'd feel his eyes on me.
Not in a possessive way. More like he was… making sure I was okay. Or maybe reading me like I was a riddle he hadn't yet solved.
Serena leaned toward me at one point, whispering with a teasing smile, "You've already made an impression. Mother likes you. Sabastian hasn't scowled once since you sat down."
I tried not to smile, but it was impossible.
When dinner ended, and the dishes were cleared, music floated in from inside. Hektor picked up little Ares and danced with him in slow, silly circles. Serena watched them with a glow in her eyes that made my throat tighten.
Anika excused herself early to go rest, and Stefan offered to walk her to her room. She hesitated but didn't say no. When they disappeared down the corridor, Storm whistled under his breath. "Miracles still happen."
The house had finally gone quiet. After hours of laughter, storytelling, clinking glasses, and the occasional teasing glance from Storm, I needed space to breathe.
I found myself on the balcony of the guest room, barefoot, arms wrapped around my torso, letting the cool night air settle my racing thoughts. The Aegean Sea stretched endlessly before me, moonlight dancing across its dark surface. It was breathtaking. Peaceful. But inside, I was anything but calm.
I heard the door creak open softly behind me. I didn't need to look.
"Can't sleep?" Sabastian's voice was deep, low, almost a whisper.
I shook my head but said nothing.
He stepped beside me, his cologne mingling with the jasmine-scented air. He didn't speak for a while, just stood beside me, both of us gazing into the silence.
"You handled them well tonight," he said eventually, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I smiled faintly too. "I wasn't sure if they liked me or just pitied me."
"They don't pity you." He turned, studying me. "They're just curious. Protective, in their own chaotic way."
I let out a soft breath. "It's a lot. Being around that kind of love when you've never really had it... it makes you feel like you're trespassing."
His jaw tightened slightly, as if something about that cut deeper than I intended.
"You're not trespassing, Chole," he said quietly. "You belong here."
I looked up at him, surprised by the certainty in his tone.
"I don't even know what that means," I whispered.
"It means," he said, stepping in just a little closer, "that maybe fate has a way of putting people where they need to be. Even when they don't think they deserve it."
My heart beat faster. The words. The way he looked at me. The way the night wrapped around us like a secret.
"But what if I ruin it?" I asked. "What if I mess this up like... everything else?"
Sabastian reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face, letting his fingers linger along my jaw.
"Then we fix it," he said. "Together."
The distance between us was nothing now. His eyes searched mine — not demanding, not expectant. Just... open. Waiting.
When his hand slid to the back of my neck, I didn't stop him.
The kiss that followed was soft. Careful. Not a declaration, not a conquest. It was a question — and I answered it.
When we pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his chest, breathing in his warmth, and whispered, "You make it hard to keep my guard up."
He wrapped an arm around me. "Then let it down. Just for tonight."
Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains as I woke up slowly, the scent of freshly baked bread and something floral wafting through the villa. For a moment, I forgot where I was. But then I heard the faint, melodic sound of Serena's laughter echoing through the halls and remembered.
Greece. The Morgans' villa. And last night…
My fingers touched my lips instinctively.
Sabastian.
I swallowed hard and sat up, brushing off the butterflies in my chest. Before I could gather my thoughts any further, there was a knock at the door.
"Chole!" Serena's voice called cheerfully from the other side. "Girls' day starts in thirty minutes, don't be late! Casual but cute!"
I blinked. Girls' day?
I got up quickly, changed into a pair of flowy white linen pants and a soft pink blouse, tied my hair up in a loose bun, and padded down the stairs in sandals.
The garden terrace was straight out of a dream. A shaded cabana had been set up beneath blooming wisteria, with pitchers of fresh orange juice, pastries, fruit platters, and the scent of something sugary and lemony baking in the distance.
Serena was already there, dressed effortlessly in a summer dress, cradling her one-year-old son while sipping from a tall glass of something cold. Her husband Hektor passed by briefly to drop off the baby with a quick kiss to her cheek and a teasing comment: "Try not to corrupt her too much."
Anika was next to arrive — visibly glowing despite her pregnancy, her walk still graceful even with her baby bump. She smiled warmly at me and gently squeezed my hand. I felt that old wave of nervousness again — like I didn't belong — until she spoke.
"I'm so glad you're here, Chole. It's good to finally have another woman in the house who isn't terrified of throwing a pillow at Stefan."
I laughed.
Then came Mrs. Morgan, elegant and poised, yet soft around the eyes — the kind of woman you could immediately tell had raised warriors but did it with tenderness. She greeted me with a kiss to both cheeks and a smile that crinkled her eyes. "You must be starving," she said, pouring me tea. "Eat first, we'll talk later."
Within the hour, I was laughing more than I had in years.
They teased each other mercilessly. Serena made fun of Anika's obsession with pickles and ice cream, Anika retaliated by imitating Serena's "posh voice," and Mrs. Morgan played referee with a raised eyebrow and gentle sarcasm that reminded me of someone I couldn't quite name.
Eventually, the conversation shifted to deeper things — childhood, motherhood, love, mistakes.
"Did Sabastian ever break anything expensive as a child?" Anika asked suddenly, eyeing Mrs. Morgan.
Mrs. Morgan chuckled. "He once threw his father's Rolex in the pool because he was convinced it would turn into a submarine."
They all burst out laughing, but I just smiled quietly, sipping my tea, wondering what Sabastian had been like back then — wild? Thoughtful? Broken like me?
I must've zoned out because Serena nudged me gently. "You okay?"
I nodded, biting back the sudden sting in my eyes.
"I'm still getting used to this," I admitted. "The laughter. The warmth. Being... included."
Anika reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "You don't need to earn a place here, Chole. You're already family."
Serena added softly, "And we don't say that lightly."
Even Mrs. Morgan smiled and said, "The boys are idiots most of the time, but they have good instincts. If Sabastian brought you home, it means you matter."
That did it.
Something in me cracked — not painfully, but like ice thawing under sunlight. I let the tears fall silently, and no one rushed me. They just... let me feel.
This was what I never had.
A sisterhood. A mother figure. A space to exist without explanation.
Later, after we ate too much cake and Serena forced us into homemade facials and manicures, I realized something.
I wasn't just surviving anymore.
I was living.
The sun was higher now, casting golden streaks across the olive branches, and our laughter echoed in waves. I'd never been part of anything like this — not just a group of women having fun, but a kind of unspoken understanding between them.
They weren't perfect. They were powerful in their softness. They owned their strength and their stories.
I was beginning to think maybe I could too.
Serena clapped her hands together. "Okay, next on the list — flower crowns."
Anika groaned. "Why are we doing this again?"
"Because," Serena said, already grabbing fresh-cut blooms, "we are women in Greece. And what do women in Greece do when they're surrounded by sunshine, family, and juicy gossip? We make flower crowns and look like ancient goddesses, of course."
Mrs. Morgan laughed. "She's not wrong."
Anika muttered something about hormones and daisies but was already picking her favorite blooms.
Serena handed me a woven circle of olive branches. "This is your initiation into the Morgan sisterhood."
I smiled nervously, my fingers fumbling with the delicate petals. "Do I pass?"
"You passed the moment you stood up for yourself and chose to stay standing," Mrs. Morgan said gently.
Those words hit harder than I expected.
We sat in a circle, threading flowers into green vines. The wind carried the smell of lavender and citrus, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear birds chirping. Anika's feet were propped up again as she slowly braided her crown, muttering under her breath every time the baby kicked.
"Is it always like this?" I asked suddenly.
"Like what?" Serena looked up, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.
"This... safe. Light. Easy."
Serena paused, thinking. "Not always. But it can be. Especially when you're with people who love you."
I looked down at my flower crown, and without meaning to, whispered, "I've never had this."
Anika leaned in, her face soft. "You do now."
After a while, we moved from the terrace to a shaded corner of the garden where a low table had been set for lunch. Mrs. Morgan had arranged for small plates — feta-stuffed peppers, spanakopita, grilled zucchini, lemon potatoes, and a pitcher of something cold and fizzy.
"It's called soumada," she said, pouring me a glass. "Almond and rosewater. You'll like it."
I took a sip. It tasted like something out of a dream — light, sweet, comforting.
We talked for hours. About everything and nothing. About motherhood and men. About power and the quiet battles women fight every day.
I told them about my writing — something I hadn't shared with anyone since my mom died. Serena made me promise to let her read something. Anika swore she'd name her daughter after me if my poetry made her cry. (I'm not sure if she was kidding.)
Mrs. Morgan? She just smiled and said, "I'm glad you're here, Chole. Our family needed someone like you more than we knew."
As the afternoon settled into gold-tinged shadows, Anika yawned and said it was time for a nap. Serena helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Mrs. Morgan followed them inside, giving me a wink as she passed.
I lingered a moment in the quiet — flower crown in hand, heart surprisingly full.
This wasn't just a girls' day.
This was healing.
This was the first time in years that I felt like I belonged somewhere... not because someone let me, but because I was finally strong enough to take up space.