Tangled Hearts
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
The drive home from the airport was warm with joy.
Zeyu sat snug on Yibo’s lap in the passenger seat, bundled in his hoodie, his tiny arms looped around Yibo’s as he talked non-stop, babbling about everything from waffles to the clouds he saw from the car window.
Yibo listened with a gentle smile, nodding at every sentence, as if he couldn’t get enough of the sound of his son’s voice.
Zhan drove, quiet for the most part, but every now and then, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror or to the side to look at Yibo.
Their gazes met more than once.
No words, just small smiles.
Quiet glances that said everything their hearts couldn’t yet form aloud.
They stopped at a cozy Chinese restaurant not far from their home.
The kind that smelled of star anise, soy sauce, and freshly steamed buns.
Zeyu slurped his soup happily while sitting between his fathers, dipping his dumplings into vinegar with the kind of seriousness only a child could muster.
Yibo kept stealing little looks at Zhan between bites and Zhan, he saw every one of them, smiling softly into his tea.
By the time they reached home in Amsterdam, night had settled over the quiet streets.
A few windows flickered with warm light, trees swayed gently in the breeze, and Zeyu had long since fallen asleep curled up against Yibo’s chest.
Zhan pulled into the carport beside their house.
As the engine went silent, Yibo shifted, cradling Zeyu closer while Zhan moved to open the back and grab the luggage.
Their house was nestled on a quiet street lined with brick sidewalks and leafy trees.
The home itself was a beautiful three-bedroom detached house with a wide porch, large windows, and a warm amber glow spilling from inside.
Inside, the atmosphere was tastefully modern but welcoming: hardwood floors, earth-toned walls, soft lighting.
As Yibo stepped in, still carrying Zeyu, his eyes landed on the wall in the living room and paused.
Dozens of framed memories greeted him.
A photo of him mid-race, frozen in time, the wind pulling at his jacket.
An old selfie of him and Zhan, their cheeks flushed with laughter.
And most recently his favorite… him, Zhan, and Zeyu, crammed together on a couch with grins so wide they looked like three puzzle pieces finally clicking together.
“You… kept all these?”
Yibo murmured, eyes scanning the wall.
Zhan smiled gently and stepped beside him.
“Of course. This is your home too.”
He took Zeyu from Yibo’s arms with practiced ease.
“Let me put him to bed. You go freshen up. Leave your luggage in my room or the guest room. Wherever you feel comfortable.”
Yibo nodded, fingers trailing briefly along Zeyu’s back before he turned away and disappeared down the hallway.
Zhan entered Zeyu’s room.
A softly lit space filled with toys, books in Dutch and Chinese, a small reading tent in the corner, and glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling.
The bed was a small one, shaped like a race car.
He gently laid Zeyu down, slipped off his shoes, swapped his jeans for soft pajamas, tucked him in, and brushed a kiss against his forehead.
In the meantime, Yibo stepped into Zhan’s room.
It smelled faintly of cedarwood and laundry powder.
After a quick shower, he wandered back to Zeyu’s room in clean clothes.
Zhan was still there, sitting quietly by the bed.
“I’ll sit here.”
Yibo offered, voice low.
“Go change, Zhan-ge.”
Zhan nodded, casting one last look at his sleeping son before rising.
“He’s almost asleep anyway.”
Yibo sat on the edge of the bed and looked around.
There were hand-painted drawings taped to the wall clearly by Zeyu, stick figures of three people holding hands under a big sun.
A dragon plushie sat on a shelf, a Chinese calligraphy scroll hung near the window.
He leaned down and brushed his fingers through Zeyu’s soft hair.
There was something sacred in that moment.
The kind of quiet peace he never thought he’d deserve.
Zhan returned after a few minutes, hair damp and wearing a soft cotton shirt and drawstring pants.
“He’s out.”
He whispered.
“Come on, let’s eat. He had so much ice cream and waffles today, he’ll probably sleep through the night.”
They tiptoed out, Zhan closing the door with careful hands.
In the kitchen, Zhan pulled out two covered plates from the refrigerator and set them in the microwave.
“You cook now?”
Yibo asked, half-teasing.
Zhan snorted.
“No. Auntie Lin does. She leaves dinner before she goes. Saves my life most days.”
Yibo smiled.
The microwave beeped, and soon they were sitting across from each other at the small dining table.
The warm scent of mapo tofu, stir-fried greens with garlic, and steamed jasmine rice filled the air.
Yibo dug in quietly, the comfort of home settling around him like a blanket.
Zhan watched him, resting his chin in one hand and smiling.
“Why are you smiling?”
Yibo asked between bites.
“I still can’t believe you actually came.”
Zhan murmured.
Yibo looked at him and said softly.
“How could I stay back there… when I know my life is here?”
Zhan swallowed hard.
His heart felt too full.
He chuckled.
“Sometimes I wonder… are you still the same Bo I used to know, or did the years change you?”
Yibo gave him a wink, eyes glinting.
“Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Zhan stared for a beat, then laughed, shaking his head.
“God! still shameless as ever.”
After dinner, they washed the dishes together.
Elbow to elbow, passing plates, drying cutlery.
It was the kind of domestic intimacy Zhan had dreamed of for so long.
Once done, Zhan tiptoed to check on Zeyu again.
The boy was still sound asleep, his mouth slightly open, one hand curled around his dragon plushie.
Zhan smiled, pulled the blanket up a little more, and gently closed the door.
When he returned to his room, Yibo was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone.
The light from the lamp threw soft shadows across his face
He looked up as Zhan entered and set the phone aside.
Zhan quietly closed the door behind him, the soft click sounding louder in the stillness.
In two strides, Yibo crossed the room.
Without a word, he grabbed hold of Zhan and crushed their mouths together… hungry, urgent, a kiss that burned with all the words he’d swallowed for years.
His fingers dug into Zhan’s back as if afraid he might slip away, the heat of his desperation searing through the closeness.
Zhan gasped, startled, but the raw need blazing in Yibo’s eyes unraveled every thought of resistance.
He gave in, melting into the pull.
Their lips met again, harder, deeper, a clash of breath and longing.
Hands grasping, hearts pounding wild and unsteady.
Years of distance burned away in the heat of that embrace, nothing left but the storm between them.
And in that storm, in each other’s arms, they weren’t just two men colliding after years apart.
They were home.
——————————————
They were tangled together on the bed, Zhan beneath him, Yibo braced above, their bodies barely touching but already trembling with tension.
The bedside lamp cast amber shadows along the edges of their faces, flickering softly like candlelight catching memory and skin alike.
Yibo leaned in, close enough to feel Zhan’s breath mix with his own.
His voice was a low murmur, barely more than a whisper grazing Zhan’s lips.
“You have no idea how much I missed this…”
He said, voice heavy with longing.
“How much I missed you, ge.”
Zhan looked up at him, his eyes shining, dark pools of unshed emotion, years of ache folded behind each blink.
He raised a hand to touch Yibo’s cheek, his thumb grazing the sharp line of his jaw.
“I missed this too Bo…”
Zhan whispered.
“You. Your touch… your voice… this look in your eyes.”
Yibo let out a breath shaky, uneven and kissed Zhan’s forehead with reverence, like it was sacred ground.
Then he pulled back just far enough to meet his gaze.
“For six years I thought I lost you.”
He said, voice trembling under the weight of it.
“I told myself I had to forget. That you had probably moved on. But when I saw Zeyu… when I saw myself in him… I realized you didn’t just carry me in your heart. You built me into your life.”
Zhan swallowed thickly, his hand sliding into Yibo’s hair, tugging gently.
His lips curved into a fragile, aching smile.
“You were my first love, Bo.”
He said, the words catching in his throat.
“And I never wanted to forget you. Because if I let you go… then what would’ve been left to hold on to? What part of me would’ve still been real?”
Yibo’s breath stilled.
His eyes darkened as he looked down at Zhan, like he was seeing him again for the first time.
“I made a mistake.”
Yibo said, each word carved with weight.
“And I’m not asking to be forgiven. But I want to spend the rest of my life correcting it. Every single day. As long as it takes.”
Zhan’s mouth twitched with a wicked, teasing smile.
His hand slid lower, fingers curling against Yibo’s waist, drawing him down until there was no space left between them.
“Then fix it, Bo… hmm?”
He whispered, breath brushing Yibo’s lips.
“Show me how you’re going to correct that mistake.”
Yibo chuckled, a broken, boyish sound, dipping down to kiss the edge of Zhan’s jaw.
“You’re right… too much talking.”
He winked.
“Let me start correcting it properly.”
He leaned in and kissed Zhan, slow at first, like rediscovering a taste he hadn’t allowed himself in years.
But it deepened quickly, urgency rising between them like fire catching dry grass.
His hands roamed Zhan’s chest, tracing every line like he was memorizing it again.
He pushed the shirt up, baring warm skin to the glow of the lamplight, and kissed his way down with hungry reverence.
He trailed kisses down Zhan’s throat, over the soft hollow of his collarbone, tasting every breath.
Zhan let out a low hum of pleasure, fingers threading through Yibo’s hair.
“Bo… aren’t you tired from the journey?”
He teased, breathless.
Yibo lifted his head and smirked, eyes dark with heat.
“I’ll get tired soon… ge.”
He murmured, voice dipping low, possessive with a lazy smirk.
“We both will. Then we can sleep. Not before that.”
Zhan didn’t respond, he didn’t need to.
Their eyes locked, heat simmering thick between them.
And in the quiet hum of that charged moment, their hands moved… eager, unhurried, knowing.
Clothes slipped away piece by piece, pulled off in pauses between kisses, until bare skin met bare skin under the warm weight of the blankets.
Nothing left between them but breath and want.
Zhan’s breath hitched as Yibo’s mouth trailed lower, every brush of his lips sparking fire through his skin… fire he hadn’t dared let himself feel in six long years.
He kissed down Zhan’s chest, down to his waist, letting his teeth graze the edge just enough to make Zhan gasp.
Zhan arched beneath him, breath stuttering into a moan… low, rich, and just a bit too loud in the stillness of the room.
The sound broke out of him before he could stop it, raw and unfiltered.
Yibo paused, lips hovering against Zhan’s hipbone.
He looked up with a crooked smirk, voice teasing but hushed.
“Ge… don’t be so loud. You’ll wake Zeyu… and then we’re screwed.”
Zhan huffed a shaky laugh.
“Shut up!”
He whispered back, eyes half-lidded, lips already swollen.
“…just make me feel you.”
Yibo obeyed, and the touch of his mouth burned hot.
Six years of silence burst like a dam breaking… everything they hadn’t said, everything they couldn’t touch, flooding the room in ragged breaths and whispered names.
Hands clutched, mouths clashed, bodies pressed skin to skin with a desperation that didn’t ask for permission.
Zhan’s legs locked tight around Yibo’s waist, dragging him closer, forcing him deeper.
Their bodies moved in sync, slow at first, then unraveling into something harsher, needier, years of hunger crashing into the present.
Yibo leaned down, thrusts hard and relentless, his breath hot and ragged against Zhan’s ear.
“I don’t care how many years I lost…”
He growled, voice shaking with want.
“I’m taking it all back tonight… every inch of you, every sound, every single breath. You’re mine, Zhan-ge… only mine.”
Zhan cried out, nails raking down his back, the sharp sting only spurring Yibo on.
He grabbed the nape of Yibo’s neck, yanking him up, their mouths colliding in a bruising kiss that tasted of desperation and fire.
“I’m right here…”
Zhan gasped between their lips, voice broken, raw.
“I’m yours… all yours… don’t stop, Bo… don’t you dare stop. Let me feel you, let me drown in you.”
His breath hitched, trembling words spilling like a plea and a command all at once.
“Show me, Bo… show me how much you missed me. Prove it.”
And Yibo did… merciless yet devoted, as if nothing else in the world had ever mattered.
With every breath.
With every kiss.
With every broken sound between the sheets and soft moan swallowed in his throat.
He worshipped Zhan’s skin like a map back home.
And Zhan let him… for the first time in years, heart wide open, pain unraveling into pleasure.
They didn’t rush.
They took their time.
Because love this deep doesn’t burn… it consumes.
And that night, behind a carefully closed door, two aching hearts finally remembered how to become one again.
———————————————
The early morning sunlight poured gently through the sheer curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the floor.
Zhan stirred first, as always.
For a moment, he just lay still, watching the steady rise and fall of Yibo’s shoulders.
He kissed Yibo’s bare back, careful not to wake him, and eased out from under the covers, Yibo’s arm still resting in the warm space he left behind.
The room smelled faintly of skin, sleep, and the raw edge of last night’s passion, a warmth and an ache Zhan carried with him as he washed up in the bathroom, every movement reminding him how long it had been since they’d touched like that.
By the time he stepped out, towel draped around his neck, the bed was empty.
Yibo had woken somewhere in between, and now the faint clatter of dishes led Zhan to the kitchen, where he found him already moving around like he’d never left.
Wearing loose grey joggers and a plain black tee, his hair a tousled mess of curls from sleep, he stood barefoot by the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.
The scent of eggs, toast, and warm butter filled the air.
A small glass of milk sat ready on the table, Zeyu’s, of course.
Outside, through the open kitchen window, came the soft sound of a tiny engine.
Zeyu had woken up and was busy zooming around the garden with his toy car, cheeks flushed from the crisp morning air.
Zhan padded softly into the kitchen, tightening the cuff of his shirt as he walked.
He stopped just inside, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the quiet rhythm of Yibo’s movements.
A domestic image he never thought he’d have again.
Smiling to himself, he crossed the room silently and wrapped his arms around Yibo’s waist from behind.
Yibo stilled for just a moment, then turned his head slightly.
Zhan leaned in, kissed him softly, a whisper of lips.
“Good morning.”
Zhan murmured against his skin.
Yibo smiled, relaxed into his hold, then turned and kissed Zhan back, just once.
“Good morning, Ge. Breakfast’s ready. Eat before you head out.”
Zhan nodded, still half-caught in the haze of affection.
“Yup. I’ll call Zeyu. Let’s eat together.”
He stepped out into the garden, his voice gentle as he called.
“Zeyu… Breakfast’s ready, Baobei.”
The boy immediately abandoned his toy car and sprinted inside, giggling.
They all gathered at the small dining table, sunlight streaming in through the windows, plates full and hearts full.
Breakfast was simple but warm… golden pancakes, soft scrambled eggs, toasted slices of bread, and a bowl of cut fruits.
Zeyu had his usual cup of warm milk, cradled between his small hands as he took tiny sips between excited chatter.
Halfway through, Zeyu blinked up at Zhan with a curious frown.
“Baba…”
He said, staring intently.
“What happened to your lips? Did you get hurt?”
Zhan froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.
His eyes widened a little, and then he flicked a glance toward Yibo, who had already broken into a slow smirk over his coffee mug.
Flustered but trying not to show it, Zhan cleared his throat.
“Ah… yeah. Baba got hurt a little. But it’s nothing to worry about, okay? It’ll be fine in no time.”
Zeyu accepted that with a nod, already focused on spearing another piece of fruit.
After breakfast, Zhan crouched down to kiss Zeyu’s cheek.
“Baba’s going to work now. Be good, okay?”
Zeyu waved with a sticky hand, already halfway through stacking blocks in his room.
Yibo followed Zhan to the door.
The moment was quiet, soft.
Zhan’s fingers hovered on the doorknob for a moment, then he turned back, mischief lighting up his eyes.
“I really don’t feel like going to work today, Bo…”
Yibo raised a brow, lips twitching.
“No? Then what do you want to do instead?”
Zhan stepped in close, fingers gripping the front of Yibo’s T-shirt, pulling him gently forward.
He leaned close, voice barely a whisper, hot against Yibo’s lips.
“What if we go back to our bedroom…”
He murmured.
“…and I show you what I want?”
Yibo smirked, fingers brushing lightly over Zhan’s mouth, tracing the tender curve.
“Mmh, seems like someone didn’t get enough last night…”
Zhan tilted his head, eyes dark and playful.
“Do you really think one night is enough… for someone who waited six years, my rough boy?”
He said, voice thick with meaning.
Yibo let out a low laugh, just as Zhan leaned in, their lips brushing, heat about to spill into something far less innocent—
“Pa… Pa? Where are you?”
Zeyu’s voice echoed from down the hallway.
Both men jerking apart quick as if they’d been caught red-handed.
Yibo blinked and turned just in time to see Zeyu toddling into the living room, clutching his toy car.
He looked up at them, big eyes curious.
“Pa, see… it’s not working. Please fix it.”
Yibo smiled, kneeling to take the toy.
“You want me to fix it now, Baobei?”
“Yes! Yes!”
Zeyu nodded earnestly, already tugging at Yibo’s arm.
“Come come come!”
He tugged at Yibo’s arm, then turned on his heel and dashed off toward his bedroom, calling over his shoulder.
“Come quick, Pa! I’ll show you!”
His little footsteps pattered down the hallway and vanished behind the door with a soft thud as it swung shut behind him.
Zhan, who had been holding back laughter, finally let it out in a low chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.
“Go…”
He said with a mock sigh, casting Yibo a teasing glance.
“Fix it. Seems like my importance in this household is dropping fast.”
Yibo stood and glanced back with a laugh.
“Shut up, Ge. Just go to work. And when you come back tonight, once Zeyu’s asleep… you’ll have me all to yourself, exactly the way you want.”
He winked and leaned in for a quick kiss, swift and soft, before opening the door.
Zhan stepped out, still smiling, walked to his car and waved as he backed out of the driveway.
Yibo watched until the car disappeared from view, then closed the door behind him, already hearing Zeyu’s excited calls from the bedroom.
“Pa! Come fix it! Hurry!”
He smiled, shook his head, and headed down the hall, heart full.
——————————————–
Six Months Later.
Time, when wrapped in happiness… moves fast.
In just half a year, with the support of Jonas and Eva, Yibo and Zhan turned their dreams into something tangible.
A new custom bike garage, sleek and a little fancy this time, nestled on a quiet corner of the city.
Yibo had also begun designing his own engine model, hunched over blueprints late at night, grease-streaked and determined.
Their little family had settled into a rhythm.
The nanny was no longer needed.
Zeyu, now completely attached to his Pa, spent his days shadowing Yibo.
He clapped in glee whenever Yibo revved up a bike and squealed when taken for short rides.
On weekends, all three of them would hop into Yibo’s bike or Zhan’s car and set off for long countryside drives, wind in their hair, joy in their laughter.
That one evening, the sky had mellowed into dusky gold.
The three of them were at a quiet riverside spot near their neighborhood.
A long bench sat overlooking the water, shimmering in the fading light.
Zhan and Yibo sat close, their shoulders touching, fingers loosely entwined.
A little distance away, Zeyu was laughing and running in small circles with a stick in his hand, pretending to be a racecar driver.
His bag was tossed on the grass next to Zhan’s feet.
Zhan looked out at the gentle ripples of the river and exhaled, voice soft and wistful.
“This place always reminds me of you… of us. Remember the river you took me to in Deqing that evening?”
He turned to Yibo.
Yibo followed his gaze, his lips curling gently as the memory flickered behind his eyes.
He nodded but said nothing for a moment.
Then, casually, he looked down at the bag.
“Ge… I think I left my bike keys in Zeyu’s bag. Can you check?”
Zhan reached down without hesitation, unzipping the small bag.
He dug through its little compartments.
“No, Bo, I don’t see it he—”
He trailed off.
And when he turned back, he froze mid-sentence.
Yibo was no longer beside him, but down on one knee, right in front of the bench, against the backdrop of the golden-hued river and whispering breeze.
One knee bent, one foot firm on the ground.
His fingers held a small velvet box, now open, revealing a delicate platinum ring catching the last glint of sunlight.
Zhan stared, lips parted, heart crashing against his ribs.
Yibo looked up at him, eyes full of love, his voice steady but thick with emotion.
“Mr. Xiao Zhan… will you marry me?”
He inhaled, lips trembling with a soft smile.
“I, Wang Yibo, want to be your better half… not just for this lifetime, but for all the ones that come after. Please… be mine. Officially. Finally.”
A few walkers nearby had paused, quietly watching, some already smiling as they realized what was happening.
Before Zhan could find his voice, tiny footsteps pattered toward them.
Zeyu came bounding back into the scene, his cheeks flushed, his grin wide.
He ran right up and stood beside Yibo, looking between his two parents.
He didn’t understand the details, but he knew something beautiful was happening.
“Baba… say yes… say yes…”
He said with a serious little nod.
“Say yes to Pa!”
That cracked something wide open in Zhan.
A tear slipped down his cheek as he nodded, his voice caught in his throat.
“Yes…”
He breathed, a shaky smile breaking through the tears.
“Yes, Bo… Always.”
Yibo exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.
He stood, slid the ring gently onto Zhan’s finger, and immediately pulled him into a tight, trembling hug.
The crowd clapped, someone whistled.
Zeyu squealed and jumped with both hands in the air.
Their little world, in that moment, felt like everything was right.
———————————————-
Two Weeks Later.
Their court marriage was everything they had hoped for… simple, intimate and legal in the Netherlands.
[a country where same-sex marriage has been recognized and celebrated since 2001.]
No grand venue, no bustling crowd.
Just the five of them: Zhan, Yibo, Zeyu, and their two dearest friends, Jonas and Eva, gathered in a small room inside the city hall.
Zhan had also arranged a video call, making sure his own family, along with Yibo’s mother and grandmother, could witness the wedding from afar.
The space was quiet and sunlit, with whitewashed walls and soft wooden floors.
Light filtered in through tall windows, casting a golden glow across the table where the papers waited.
The atmosphere felt more like a quiet promise than a formal ceremony… calm, sacred, deeply personal.
Zeyu was a spark of joy in his tiny black suit, a pink carnation pinned proudly to his chest, and a bow tie he kept adjusting with determined little hands.
He stood tall like a miniature best man, chest puffed, eyes twinkling.
Zhan looked quietly radiant in a tailored black suit, a crisp white shirt beneath, paired with a slim black tie dotted with soft white polka dots.
A silver tie clip caught the light at his chest, and a blush pink boutonnière, nestled in dark green leaves, added a gentle pop of color.
His look was classic, polished, and quietly striking, just like him.
Yibo, in contrast, looked effortlessly magnetic in a sleek black tuxedo with satin lapels, paired with a crisp white shirt and a sharp black bow tie.
A neatly folded white pocket square peeked from his chest pocket, and the entire look was clean, elegant, and commanding, classic sophistication with a quiet edge that was all him.
They held hands as they signed the official documents, fingers brushing in a quiet exchange of reassurance.
Then came the rings… no speeches, no fanfare.
Just a meaningful look, and the silent press of metal onto skin.
Jonas and Eva stood beside them, smiling.
When the final signature was inked, and everything was complete, Eva grinned and nudged Zhan playfully.
“You may now kiss your husband.”
She teased.
Zhan turned to Yibo, lips twitching with emotion, and pulled him in gently.
Their kiss was soft… full of warmth and quiet triumph.
When they broke apart, Zeyu’s blue eyes had gone wide, and then he burst into giggles, clapping his hands with joy.
“Baba and Pa kissed! Yay!”
Jonas chuckled.
Eva wiped a tear.
On the video call, Liu Fang dabbed at her own tears while Yue cheered happily.
Zhang Meilan and Wang Shuzhen finally exhaled in relief, their hearts swelling with quiet joy at seeing their son receive the happiness he had always longed for, despite all the pain he had endured to reach this moment.
Their love, once hidden and hesitant, was now recognized, protected, and celebrated in a place that allowed them to be exactly who they were.
A love that had seen laughter, separation, heartbreak, and once lived in shadows, choked by fear, buried beneath silence… was finally free.
In a new place, in a new life, they had chosen each other out loud.
Without shame.
Without hesitation.
A family… whole and official.
Zeyu, the boy who brought their broken pieces together, now had his family whole.
He had his Pa and Baba, not just in his drawings or bedtime stories, but in every morning hug, every laughter-filled evening, and every night spent between them.
And just like that, the bookstore guy and the garage boy… their journey that began on a metro train, ended here… with them getting married and becoming one.
Their story, tangled once, now unfolded with peace.
And this time… these Tangled Hearts had found their forever.
[The End]
——————————————–
Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😊
Hope you enjoyed it — and if you did, please don’t forget to like & comment on my Insta post. 💖
Think of it as your way of telling me, “Hey, I’m here, and I loved it!” — it means the world to me and truly keeps me inspired to write more for you! ✨
The Red Ribbon 