The Binder

The three brothers, having reluctantly accepted their fate under Zayn's ridiculous plan, could only sigh in unison. They exchanged weary glances, silently debating whether having Zayn as a brother was a gift or a curse. It was hard to tell when the playboy in question was both a source of endless chaos and, strangely enough, the glue that kept their absurd little family together.

Marcus, ever the most cool-headed of the trio, noticed the uneasiness etched on Zeb's face. His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned forward. "What's the problem, Zeb?"

Zeb hesitated, his awkward expression betraying the storm of doubt swirling in his mind. After a moment of fidgeting, he finally met Marcus's gaze, then glanced nervously at Zayn. "Well… It's just that… even though you gave me the card for the date," he started, his voice wavering, "I don't really know where to start. I mean, I've never done this before. Where should I take her first? How do I even approach this?"

The room fell silent, the weight of Zeb's confession settling over them. It wasn't a surprise—Zeb's zero-to-none experience in dating was a well-known fact. But hearing him admit it outright was still a sobering moment.

Zayn, however, wasn't fazed in the slightest. In fact, he looked almost smug, as if he'd been waiting for this moment. "Ah, so that's the issue," Zayn said, his tone shifting into one of confident authority. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as if preparing to deliver a lecture. "Don't worry, brother. I've got you covered."

The others exchanged skeptical glances, bracing themselves for whatever "wisdom" Zayn was about to impart.

"For starters," Zayn began, "it's always easier to meet in a place that's crowded but not too chaotic. Somewhere the girl will feel safe meeting a stranger. You know, public spaces where she won't feel pressured or uncomfortable."

He gestured dramatically, as if painting a picture for them. "I suggest you start at a nice shopping mall. Pick one with a good restaurant—that way, you can test the waters and get a feel for what she's like. First impressions matter, Zeb. If she shows up wearing head-to-toe luxury brands and looking like she stepped out of a fashion magazine, then you'll know she's high-maintenance. In that case, play it safe and take her to a fancy restaurant."

Zeb blinked, his uncertainty only deepening. "And… what if she's not like that?" he asked hesitantly.

Zayn smirked, clearly pleased with the question. "If she's dressed simply—plain but elegant—then it's easier. You can skip the pretentious stuff and just enjoy the simpler things the mall has to offer. Play some games at the arcade, grab coffee at a café, or even catch a movie. Women who dress plainly tend to be more down-to-earth, so they'll appreciate a date that's fun and low-pressure."

As Zayn continued to speak, his tone grew more self-assured, like a guru imparting ancient knowledge. "The key is to adapt to her vibe, brother. Read the room—or in this case, read the girl. That's how you'll know where to take her next."

Marcus and Ruzzel, who had been silently observing up until now, exchanged looks of disbelief. Despite themselves, they couldn't help but feel like students in a masterclass, reluctantly absorbing Zayn's shameless yet oddly logical advice.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Marcus muttered under his breath, "but he actually makes sense."

Ruzzel snorted, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, it's like watching a trainwreck of genius and insanity at the same time."

Meanwhile, Zeb still looked unconvinced, though a glimmer of understanding flickered in his eyes. "So… a shopping mall with options, huh?" he repeated, as if trying to process Zayn's words.

"Exactly!" Zayn said, clapping his hands together. "Just keep it casual and don't overthink it. The goal is to figure her out without scaring her off. And don't worry—we'll be nearby, just in case you need backup."

"Backup?" Marcus echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You mean stalking him like overprotective parents?"

"Exactly," Zayn replied without missing a beat, earning groans from his brothers.

After a brief silence, Zeb cleared his throat, his voice hesitant but tinged with curiosity. "So… uh, when is this 'so-called date' supposed to happen?" he asked, fidgeting slightly. "And, uh… how will I even know who she is?"

Zayn grinned, clearly pleased with the question, as if he had been waiting for it. "Ah, I was just getting to that," he said, leaning back in his chair with a flourish, like a maestro about to unveil his masterpiece. "The date is set for the day after tomorrow. The girl… well, she's the daughter of my mom's friend's friend."

The brothers blinked, processing the convoluted description. Ruzzel tilted his head. "Wait… your mom's friend's friend?"

Zayn nodded. "Yeah, basically someone who doesn't know my mom directly. Mom made sure to keep it discreet so there wouldn't be any unnecessary… connections."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. "And how much does your mom actually know about this girl?"

"Not much," Zayn admitted with a shrug. "All she said was that the girl is good-looking—'in her own way,' whatever that means—and that she's a fresh graduate from a prestigious university. Different from ours, obviously. Gotta play it safe."

Ruzzel couldn't help but chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "Wow, your mom really went all out. Even managed to check off the specs you mentioned in your 'deal' with her. That's impressive."

Marcus and Zeb nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of amusement and awe.

Zayn let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You have no idea," he said, his voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability. "You don't know how scary Mom can be when she's focused and puts effort into something. She's… relentless. Just like with this."

The brothers fell silent for a moment, Zayn's uncharacteristic tone catching them off guard. But it didn't last long. Ruzzel smirked, breaking the momentary pause. "So, what you're saying is, your mom is more terrifying than you are when it comes to matchmaking?"

"Absolutely," Zayn said without hesitation, earning a round of chuckles from the group.

Zeb, however, still looked nervous. "But… what if I mess up?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, what if she doesn't like me?"

Zayn leaned back in his chair, smirking as he swirled the remnants of his drink. "Then it's good to assume the date failed," he said casually, waving a hand in the air as if brushing away Zeb's concerns. "And if that happens, I'm off the hook with my deal with Mom without technically violating it. Still a win-win for me."

The brothers stared at him, a mix of disbelief and annoyance flashing across their faces.

"Besides," Zayn continued, completely unfazed, "I'm not exactly eager to be chained down by the idea of early marriage. Come on, I'm way too young for that. The world is my oyster, and I intend to enjoy every bit of it."

Marcus shook his head, muttering something about Zayn's unmatched ability to turn anything into a self-serving scenario. Zeb just sighed, still unsure how to feel about his role in this bizarre arrangement.

With the tension eased by Zayn's antics, the conversation eventually drifted to lighter topics. Stories flowed, jokes were shared, and for a while, the looming drama of Zayn's plan faded into the background. The brothers finished their drinks, feeling the buzz of camaraderie and reluctant acceptance of their shared predicament.

Eventually, the night came to a close, and they prepared to head their separate ways.

Zeb grabbed his helmet and made his way out to his trusty e-bike, parked just outside the DotZ Club and Grill. The battered but reliable two-wheeler had seen better days, but it remained his preferred mode of transport. For Zeb, it wasn't just about cost-efficiency—it symbolized his independence, a small victory in a life filled with struggles.

Marcus climbed into his plain yet reliable SUV, its understated design reflecting his pragmatic personality. He rarely indulged in luxury, preferring functionality over flash. As he buckled his seatbelt, he cast a glance toward Zayn's car, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Zayn, true to his persona, strode confidently to his not-too-expensive-yet-still-flashy sports car. Its glossy finish gleamed under the streetlights, and the engine purred to life with a roar that matched its owner's energy. He paused to give his brothers a playful salute.

Then there was Ruzzel, who lingered near the entrance, his posture stiff and his expression tinged with resignation. Across the street stood a black sedan with tinted windows, flanked by two burly bodyguards in dark suits. Their imposing presence screamed authority, a constant reminder of Ruzzel's connection to his father—the notorious gang boss.

Ruzzel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at his brothers. "Yeah, so… this is my ride," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely at the car.

Zayn, never one to miss an opportunity to tease, raised an eyebrow. "Wow, VIP treatment as usual, huh? Must be nice having your own personal entourage."

"More like a leash," Ruzzel muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with frustration. The bodyguards opened the door for him with military precision, and with one last wave, Ruzzel climbed into the car and disappeared into the night.

Back at his apartment, Zeb collapsed onto the worn sofa, exhaling deeply. His small, rented space was far from luxurious, but it was home. The events of the day swirled in his mind—a chaotic blend of disbelief, frustration, and reluctant acceptance. He stared at the cracked ceiling, trying to untangle his thoughts.

Irritated by his own inaction, his thoughts inevitably drifted to Alden. The anger bubbled up again, raw and searing. Alden, his once-loyal friend, had betrayed him. At first, the betrayal felt like a knife in the back, but as the minutes ticked by, logic began to cool the fire in his chest.

Zeb's brow furrowed as he mulled over Alden's motives. Alden wasn't just any thief; he was smart—too smart to risk everything over a mere seven million dollars. For someone with Alden's talent for the stock market and his uncanny knack for spotting opportunities, the amount felt… trivial.

And that was the part that didn't sit right with Zeb. Alden had always been the type to think long-term, to play the game strategically. Why would he jeopardize their partnership—and their shared potential for far greater wealth—over such a finite sum?

With Marcus and Zayn's wealth and connections, Alden could have scaled to unimaginable heights. If he'd stuck with them, the possibilities were endless. Seven million was a drop in the bucket compared to what they could have earned together. So why had he taken the money and run? Ruzzel, on the other hand, was the son of an underground gang boss. The mere thought of crossing someone with ties like that—and their ever-present bodyguards—would make any sane person think twice.

Zeb sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. "Something doesn't add up," he muttered to himself. "Why risk it all? There's more to this than meets the eye."

But as much as he wanted answers, the weight of exhaustion pulled at him. Tomorrow, he would try to piece the puzzle together. For now, there was another pressing matter demanding his attention—the date.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Zayn's meddling had roped him into something completely foreign, and the thought of navigating a first date was enough to make his stomach churn. Still, there was no way out. If nothing else, Zeb was stubborn, and he wasn't about to let Zayn's smug face win this round.

As he lay back on the sofa, his phone buzzed. Picking it up, he scrolled through the messages from his boss.

Boss: "Where are you?!"

Boss: "If you're not coming back, at least have the decency to say so."

Boss: "You're officially off the schedule. Don't bother coming back."

Zeb groaned, tossing the phone aside. His boss's tone left no room for interpretation—he'd been fired. And while he wasn't exactly heartbroken over losing the job, he still needed to pick up his final paycheck. After that, it was back to job hunting, another uphill battle in his already challenging life.

For now, though, he closed his eyes, letting sleep take over. The weight of the day finally began to lift, leaving him with one clear thought as his consciousness faded:

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll deal with it all.