The Binder

A suave man with the looks of an idol strolled confidently through the bustling lobby of DotZ Club and Grill. His tailored suit cut a striking figure, and the room seemed to part as he walked, heads turning, eyes lingering. Women exchanged glances, some admiring, some clearly interested. The man, unaware of the stir he was causing, moved with an effortless grace.

Despite his smooth movements, there was a tension in his posture. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, his gaze distant, lost in thought. Even in the midst of attention, his mind was elsewhere—occupied by worries he couldn't shake off. Still, his charm never wavered, and those around him couldn't help but be drawn to him.

Click.

The private room doors swung open, and as Zayn entered, the group inside froze momentarily before erupting into greetings. Marcus, Ruzzel, and Zebrylle sat at the corner booth, the casual chatter giving way to smiles at the sight of their friend.

"Zayn!" Ruzzel exclaimed, grinning widely. "About time! Even Zeb beat you here—and he's been a recluse for weeks!"

Zayn scratched the back of his neck sheepishly as he approached. "Sorry, guys. Something came up. Had to handle a… situation before heading over."

"No worries," Marcus said with his usual calm tone, cutting through the playful banter. His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, always the first to spot when things were off. "But now that you're here, care to tell us what's going on? You sounded serious when you called, which isn't your style."

Ruzzel leaned back, arms folded with a mischievous grin. "Yeah, what's got the playboy all worked up? You break someone's heart again?"

Zayn chuckled and shook his head, loosening his tie as he slid into the booth. "Let's not dive into that just yet. We should order first—food, drinks. Trust me, we'll need them for this conversation."

His eyes lingered on Zeb, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Zayn offered a small nod in his direction. "Hey, brother. How've you been holding up?"

Zeb gave a faint, almost tired smile, his voice low. "Getting there. Good to see you, Zayn."

Before anyone could respond, Zayn reached over to ruffle Ruzzel's neatly styled golden hair, prompting a dramatic protest. "Hey! Don't mess with perfection!" Ruzzel laughed, pushing Zayn's hand away.

"Perfection, huh?" Zayn teased, locking his arm around Ruzzel's neck for a playful mock chokehold. "You're lucky I didn't put you in a headlock."

The mood was light, and the conversation turned toward the usual banter—Ruzzel cracking jokes about the room's lackluster decor, Zeb offering dry comments, and Zayn's grin widening despite the unease still lingering beneath the surface.

But soon, the moment passed. Marcus leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Alright, Zayn. Enough stalling. What's this 'important matter' you called us together for?"

Zayn sighed dramatically, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "Guys, it's my mom. She's been on my case non-stop," he started, shaking his head in mock despair. "She's all about me getting married now. I swear, every time I turn around, she's lining up potential brides like it's some kind of pageant."

The room fell into a pause.

The brothers stared at him, a mix of confusion and disbelief written on their faces. Ruzzel was the first to break the silence, setting his fork down with a dramatic gesture. "Wait, wait, wait. That's your big problem? Your mom wants you to get married? Dude, are you serious right now?"

Zeb smirked, his tone deadpan. "Yeah, because that's such a tragic life. Meanwhile, the rest of us are just hoping for a swipe right." (Despite his good looks—second only to Zayn in the group—and a well-built physique, Zeb had an unassuming presence. His plain and simple style of dressing added a layer of humility that often overshadowed his handsomeness, making him seem more less noticeable in comparison to his flamboyant friends that is why he is single.)

Ruzzel added, his voice dripping with mock envy, "Oh no, poor Zayn! He's too handsome for his own good, and women want to marry him! What a cruel fate."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, adding his own brand of sarcasm. "Zayn, do you realize how many guys would kill for your problem? You're sitting here looking like a walking fragrance ad, and you're stressed about getting married?" (Marcus wasn't as strikingly handsome as Zeb or even Ruzzel, but he was undeniably above average in looks, with a sharp, well-groomed appearance that reflected his disciplined nature. His wealth and composed demeanor gave him an air of authority, yet his strict personality often made people tread carefully around him. Girls, in particular, were hesitant to approach him, wary of his sharp tongue and the fear of ending up on his bad side. As a result, despite his eligibility and charm, Marcus remained single, more focused on maintaining his personal standards and looking out for his friends than pursuing romantic ventures.)

Zayn groaned, leaning back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. "You don't get it, okay? My mom's serious. She's already set up interviews with potential brides. And I'm not ready for that."

"Not ready?" Ruzzel laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink. "What, are you waiting for the stars to align? The perfect girl to drop from the sky?" (Although Ruzzel was undeniably handsome, his golden hair and easygoing demeanor gave him a distinct "puppy" vibe, earning him comparisons to a golden retriever. His playful and somewhat childish nature often made him the heart of the group, bringing levity to any situation. However, despite his charm and good looks, Ruzzel had a habit of distancing himself from romantic entanglements, preferring instead to focus on his personal goals and his unwavering bond with the brotherhood that is why he's also a single.)

Zeb joined in, dry as ever. "Or maybe he's hoping for a princess to rescue him from his tower of luxury."

Zayn glared at them, his lips twitching. "You guys suck. I'm pouring my heart out here, and this is the response I get?"

Ruzzel leaned in, slapping Zayn on the back. "Aw, poor baby. Don't worry, we've got your back. Zeb can teach you how to live like a hermit, Marcus can handle the prenup, and I'll throw the bachelor party. Problem solved!"

Marcus chuckled. "Honestly, Zayn, it sounds like your mom's just trying to keep you from wasting your life away partying. Maybe it's her way of saying, 'Grow up.'"

Zayn threw his hands up in frustration. "Thanks for the support, guys. Real brotherly love right here."

The table erupted in laughter as Zayn tried to defend himself, but couldn't help but grin. His frustration was overshadowed by the undeniable camaraderie—the way these guys could always make him feel at ease, even when his "problems" felt world-ending.

But then, Zayn's expression shifted again, his usual easy charm replaced by a serious undertone. "Brothers," he began, his voice low, as if he were about to reveal a deep secret. "This time, it's different. My mom is dead serious. I mean, sure, I've toyed with hearts, messed around with everyone—"

"Charming," Marcus interrupted dryly.

"But not this time," Zayn said, pressing on. "If I mess this up—if I even look like I'm avoiding it—I'm done for. Other girls? They might only want me for my body." He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "But the one my mom picks? She'll be a rope. A rope to tie me down. And trust me, the second I meet her, it won't just be a date—it'll be my wedding day!" Zayn shuddered, running a hand through his perfect hair. "Just thinking about it gives me chills."

For a moment, there was silence. The brothers exchanged glances, still processing his "dire" situation.

Then, Ruzzel, ever the troublemaker, leaned back in his chair, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Guys," he said, his tone mock solemn, "I think we need to punish this bastard."

Marcus smirked, nodding. "Agreed. Zayn's problems are like Mount Tai—impossible to climb because they don't even exist for normal people."

Zeb folded his arms, his voice oozing sarcasm. "What's next, Zayn? You upset because your personal trainer isn't motivational enough?"

"Oh no," Ruzzel chimed in, slapping the table for dramatic effect. "Or maybe he's angry because his new sports car doesn't match his favorite cologne!"

Zayn threw up his hands, trying to regain control. "Seriously, guys? I'm pouring my heart out here!"

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You know what, Zayn? You're right. This is serious. We need to help you face this crisis like the brothers we are."

Ruzzel nodded. "Yeah, like… we'll throw you a bachelor party before you meet her. Get all that 'freedom' out of your system."

Zeb added with a sly grin, "And we'll invite every ex-girlfriend you've ghosted. It'll be a reunion."

Zayn groaned and buried his face in his hands as the other three burst into laughter, practically falling over themselves at his reaction.

"Man, you guys are the worst," Zayn muttered, but even he couldn't suppress a smile.

Ruzzel clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him forward. "Cheer up, bro. We've got you covered. Who better to solve 'Zayn's Problems™' than us?"

"Yeah," Marcus grinned, "because only you could turn a matchmaking attempt into a life-or-death situation."

"And only you," Zeb added, smirking, "could make us feel like paupers even with all our real problems."

The table erupted in laughter once again, Zayn shaking his head but grinning despite himself.

Leaning forward, Zayn slammed his palm on the table, his face desperate. "No, seriously," he said, cutting through their amusement. "I'm not joking. You don't understand. I'm on edge about what to do. You guys know I can't win against my mom. She's undefeated!" His eyes widened for dramatic effect. "Even my dad, the great John Davan—he can't win against her. Nobody can!"

The brothers exchanged looks, stifling their laughter.

"Let me tell you," Zayn continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've seen my dad in boardrooms, negotiating deals worth millions, intimidating men with a single glance. But the moment my mom walks into the room? Poof! All his power vanishes. He just nods and says, 'Yes, dear.'" He threw his hands up, as if defeated. "That's how terrifyingly persuasive she is!"

Ruzzel burst out laughing. "Wait, wait. Your dad—the John Davan—gets reduced to a yes-man at home? That's gold."

Zayn nodded with resignation. "You think I'm joking. I swear, it's like she controls everything. And now, I'm next in line for the same treatment."

The brothers couldn't hold it anymore. They roared with laughter, the tension evaporating as they realized just how much Zayn's "crisis" had unfolded.

"Believe it," Zayn said, throwing his hands up. "You guys think I have charm? I got nothing compared to her. She's like some ultimate boss in a video game—impossible to beat, no matter what strategy you use."

Zeb chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't believe you're actually comparing your mom to a final boss. What's next? She has secret moves?"

"Oh, she does," Zayn said, deadpan. "You think you're winning, and then BAM! She hits you with a guilt trip about family values or some nostalgic story about when I was a kid, and you're down for the count. She's unbeatable, I'm telling you."

Marcus smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Sounds like she's got you cornered, man. No wonder you're desperate."

"I am desperate!" Zayn exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "I can take on the stock market, a hundred women, or even a tornado, but my mom? Nope. I'm helpless. She's like a force of nature. And now she's set her sights on marrying me off."

The table fell silent for a beat before Ruzzel snorted. "Man, this is hilarious. Your mom is out here speedrunning your life while the rest of us are just trying to figure ours out."

"Laugh all you want," Zayn grumbled. "But you guys don't have to deal with her." He leaned back in his chair, defeated, as his brothers burst into another round of laughter.

Marcus, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, leaned back in his chair. "Alright, Zayn, we're listening. Go on."

Zayn sighed, his fingers running through his hair like he was about to deliver the world's most tragic tale. "I made a deal with her," he said, his voice dropping as if it were a confession.

The others leaned forward, intrigued.

"I agreed to meet this girl she's picked out," Zayn admitted. "BUT—" he raised a finger dramatically, "it will be under my terms. She can choose someone random she knows, but there's a catch: that girl mustn't know our status, my face, or that I'm the son of John Davan."

The table fell silent. Then Ruzzel's snort of disbelief broke the stillness.

"Wait," Ruzzel said, raising his hands like he was trying to hold in laughter. "You're telling me…you're gonna go incognito? Like some rom-com lead? What are you gonna do? Wear a wig and fake a limp?"

"Maybe grow a mustache," Zeb suggested with a smirk. "You know, the whole Clark Kent glasses thing. No one will recognize you."

"Guys," Zayn groaned, rubbing his temples. "I'm serious here. This is my life! My freedom!"

Marcus, ever the voice of reason, raised an eyebrow. "So let me get this straight. You're basically telling your mom, 'Sure, I'll meet someone, but only if I can cosplay as a regular guy.'"

"Yes!" Zayn said, nodding earnestly. "Exactly! That way, I can figure out if she's really someone I could—uh—deal with. You know, without her falling for the money or the name."

Zeb chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow, Zayn. Only you could turn a blind date into an undercover mission."

Ruzzel leaned in, his grin wicked. "So what's the plan? You show up wearing cheap clothes and acting like a broke college grad?" He paused for dramatic effect. "Oh wait, you don't know how to do that anymore!"

Marcus stroked his chin, pretending to think deeply. "Huh. I get it now. This isn't about avoiding marriage. This is about Zayn Davan auditioning for the role of a lifetime: The Humble Man with a Heart of Gold."

Zayn glared at Ruzzel but suddenly leaned forward, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Alright, enough laughing. I actually have a plan," he said, his tone shifting to one of mischief.

The brothers straightened in their seats, sensing something brewing.

"What plan?" Marcus asked, raising a skeptical brow.

Zayn pointed dramatically at Zebrylle. "I'm going to let Zeb meet the girl instead of me."

"What?!" Zeb nearly choked on his drink, his eyes wide.

"Think about it!" Zayn said, clearly delighted by his own brilliance. "Out of all of us, Zeb is the second-best-looking guy in this group. Obviously, I'm number one—let's not argue about that."

Ruzzel burst into laughter, clapping his hands. "Oh, here we go! Zayn's ego has entered the chat!"

Zayn ignored him and continued. "Zeb has this… I don't know—this simple, plain aura about him. He's lowkey, but still good-looking in that quiet, unassuming way. Girls don't love that kind of vibe. It's mysterious. Plus, he's not flashy like me, which is perfect for the role."

Zeb stared at him, dumbfounded. "Are you seriously suggesting that I pretend to be you? Do you hear yourself right now?"

"Yes, and it's genius!" Zayn said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You'll meet her, charm her with your humble aura, and then if she doesn't fall for you—or me by extension—it's a clear sign this girl isn't right for me. My mom can't complain because, technically, I agreed to the meeting!"

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "This has to be the dumbest plan you've ever come up with, Zayn."

Ruzzel, tears of laughter streaming down his face, added, "You're seriously throwing Zeb into the lion's den just to dodge your mom's setup? Man, you really are shameless!"

Zayn shrugged. "Call it what you want, but it's foolproof. Zeb gets to showcase his 'hidden charm,' the girl gets to meet a version of me without all the Davan baggage, and I stay out of trouble. Win-win!"

"No," Zeb said firmly, crossing his arms. "There's no way I'm doing this. Find someone else for your ridiculous scheme."

"Come on, brother," Zayn pleaded, leaning closer. "You owe me one. Remember when I covered for you during that group project in college? This is payback."

"That's not even remotely the same thing!" Zeb protested.

"Oh, it is," Zayn insisted, his grin widening. "Besides, think of it as a chance to help me out and maybe gain a little confidence while you're at it. You might even enjoy yourself."

Ruzzel leaned over to Marcus and whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, "This is a next-level scam. Only Zayn could come up with something like this."

Marcus sighed, clearly exasperated. "Zayn, if you're going to pull something like this, at least come up with a backup plan for when it inevitably blows up in your face."

Zayn waved off the comment. "That's what you guys are for—to back me up if things go south!"

Zeb groaned, slumping back in his chair. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Believe it," Zayn said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're the perfect decoy, Zeb. Trust me, this plan is flawless!"

The brothers exchanged glances, each one torn between laughing at Zayn's audacity and feeling sorry for Zeb. It was clear that no matter how ridiculous Zayn's plans were, their little group always managed to find themselves dragged into his chaos.