Zara and Julian were officially a couple.
No grand gestures. No dramatic announcements. Just the quiet, constant way his hand always found hers, how he waited by the campus gate to walk her to class, or how he'd send her good morning messages before she even opened her eyes.
Julian would pick her up after classes, sometimes with coffee, other times with flowers, always with that easy smile that made her heart flutter. On weekends, they went on spontaneous drives, tried new cafes, or watched movies curled up on his couch, wrapped in the comfort of something simple and good.
He made things feel light. Steady. Safe.
Zara laughed more now. Smiled without forcing it. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she was pretending to be okay—because with Julian, she was.
They were still new. Still figuring things out. But whenever Julian kissed her forehead or whispered her name like it was something precious, Zara felt it—She was wanted.She was chosen.And she wasn't alone anymore.
That Sunday, Julian dropped her off at the mansion after a brunch date. He leaned in, brushing a kiss on her cheek just as she laughed at something he said. Her hand lingered on his chest before she pulled away.
Adrian had just stepped out of his black Maserati Levante, coming over for a quick visit. He caught the scene—Zara smiling, Julian touching her arm, their closeness unmistakable. But his face remained unreadable. No flicker of emotion. No change in expression. Just a calm, cool exterior that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Zara's heart skipped. She hadn't expected to see him—not like this.
Julian, ever polite, gave a small nod toward Adrian. "Good afternoon, Adrian."
Adrian nodded back, his tone flat. "Afternoon."
That was all.
No questions. No looks. Just silence and a glance that lingered a second too long before he walked into the mansion without another word.
Zara stood frozen, the weight of that moment sinking into her chest.
Julian didn't seem to notice. "I'll text you later, okay?"
She nodded. "Okay."
As Julian drove off, Zara turned back toward the house her mind still spinning from Adrian's unreadable expression.
She had barely taken a step when a familiar voice called out from the balcony above.
"Well, well, our little princess has a boyfriend now."
Zara groaned, already recognizing the voice.
Alistair leaned against the upper railing, a smug grin on his face, arms casually crossed. "Was that your charming Mr. Julian I just saw kissing you like you were the sun itself?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her blush. "Don't start."
"Oh, I've only just begun," he teased, then disappeared from view before emerging moments later down the front steps to meet her. "Uncle Richard's going to love this. And by love, I mean possibly threaten to put the poor guy through a background check and a lie detector test."
Zara swatted his arm. "He's a good guy."
Alistair raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I believe you. You looked… happy."
That softened her. "I am."
He bumped his shoulder lightly against hers. "Good. You deserve it."
She smiled, grateful for his support—even if it came wrapped in sarcasm.
Then, as if summoned by drama, Simone appeared from the side path near the garden, wide-eyed and dramatic as always.
"OH. MY. GOD. Zara!" she squealed, practically bouncing. "Is he a good kisser? Be honest. On a scale of one to melting into a puddle, how was it? Did he rock your world yet? Don't lie—I know the post-date glow when I see it."
Zara groaned louder this time. "Simone!"
"What? I'm just being supportive," Simone said innocently, even as she wiggled her brows.
Alistair choked on a laugh. "Wow. Subtle."
Zara hid her face in her hands. "I cannot with you two."
"Okay, but seriously," Simone said, dragging Zara by the arm toward the poolside garden as if they were in a teen movie. "Did he whisper sweet nothings into your ear or was it more of a hot, pull-you-close-and-make-you-forget-your-name kind of kiss?"
Zara nearly tripped. "Simone!"
"I just need to know if this man kisses like a gentleman or a man with something to prove!" she insisted. "These things matter!"
Zara covered her face in mock horror. "Can we not have this conversation in the front yard of my family's home?!"
"Oh please," Simone scoffed. "You think this veranda hasn't heard worse? I practically had my first heartbreak on those steps."
Alistair raised a brow. "You were twelve and cried because the pool boy said you looked like a younger version of his grandmother—and that he wasn't into you."
Simone pointed at him, deadpan. "Exactly. Core memory. TRAUMA."
Zara was laughing now, clutching her stomach. "You two are insane."
Simone plopped down on the lounge chair like she owned the place. "Fine, don't tell me. But if I find out from someone else that you lost your virginity and didn't even give me a dramatic reenactment with background music and scene breakdown—"
"I swear I will toss you in the pool," Zara threatened.
"I'll jump in myself if you admit he gave you the look."
Zara paused.
Simone gasped. "HE DID?!"
Before she could scream again, Zara clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shut up! Someone might hear—"
Too late.
Alistair's voice drifted from behind them. "What's this about the look?"
Zara groaned, wanting to melt into the ground. "Ugh. Nothing. And for the record—I'm only seventeen! I'm not even thinking about anything beyond kissing."
Simone wriggled her brows. "Okay, but was it good kissing?"
"Out!" Zara snapped, shoving her cousin toward the pool.
Simone yelped, laughing as she ran. "You didn't say no!"
Zara glanced up toward the balcony once more. A pair of eyes—Adrian's—were watching.
He had stepped out again, one hand resting on the upper railing, his expression unreadable.
For a brief second, their eyes met.
Zara stiffened. Something tightened in her chest, like an old wound being poked. She wasn't sure if it was guilt, confusion, or something far more dangerous.
Adrian didn't say anything. Didn't smirk. Didn't glare.
Then he turned away again. Cold. Effortless. Detached.