Zay’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. “I know,” he said.
He made his voice soft and certain. And that made something in my chest crack open. Because he didn’t question it. He didn’t challenge it. He didn’t say I was wrong or stupid for loving a man that everyone warned me not to. He just accepted it as if love wasn’t the issue. Like love had never been enough. I turned my face back toward the window, blinking through the blur of streetlights. Trying to hold on to something solid.
A memory.
A feeling.
Anything that proved what I had with Xavier was real.
But Zay’s words wouldn’t leave my head.
They kept replaying.
Over and over.
You really think you're the only one who got caught in that smile?
My throat tightened.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know what was real or fake anymore. I wiped at my face, but more tears came anyway, quiet and unstoppable. I wasn’t crying just because of what Zay said. I was crying because a part of me believed him.
* * *
The house feltdifferent when I walked in.
It was quiet and tense, as if something had already been decided without me. My mom was in the kitchen, moving around as if it were a normal night. Cabinets opening. Water running. The soft clink of dishes. Everything steady. Controlled.
Too controlled.
“Welcome home, Princess,” my dad said.
“Hi, Daddy.”
My voice felt flat and empty.
I stood there for a second, waiting.
I waited for my mom to look at me instead of busying herself with dinner. For her to ask something real. For someone in this damn house to finally say his name. But nothing came.
“Mom,” I said, the word catching in my throat, “What do you think will happen with Xavier?”
Her hands slowed just a little over the sink. Then kept moving.
“I don’t want you worrying about that,” she said.
My chest contracted. “That’s not what I asked.”
She turned then, drying her hands, her expression soft but already made up. “Chanel, darling, some things you don’t need to be involved in.”
I stared at her, disbelief rising up my throat. “Iaminvolved. Mom, I was there. He was protecting me.”
“Yeah, protecting you from a situation he put you in.”
My father glared at her incredulously, “What your mother is trying to say, Princess, is that you don’t have to be involved.”
That hit harder than anything Zay said.
Because he told me something I didn’t want to hear.
