Zack's pov
The moment Ariana closed the door behind her, I didn't move.
For a second, I just sat there, watching the faint light spill from her window. The evening breeze rustled through the trees, but all I could think about was her pale face and the way she'd forced that small smile.
She'd said she was fine—but she wasn't. I knew it.
Still, I couldn't stop thinking about how the day had started. The fair had been her idea of fun—or maybe my dad's, really. He'd been the one pushing me to take her somewhere lighthearted, somewhere that wasn't all city noise and pressure. And honestly, it had been good. Better than good.
I hadn't laughed like that in a long time. Watching her try to win that oversized teddy bear, the way she wrinkled her nose when I teased her for missing every throw—it had done something to me. I didn't even realize how much I missed feeling normal until I saw her laughing in the sunlight, cotton candy stuck to her fingers.
And then, just as quickly, the laughter faded when she went pale, pressing a hand to her stomach. I'd caught her before she stumbled, felt how cold her skin was. She'd brushed it off with a shaky smile, but the memory wouldn't stop replaying in my head.
I sighed and started the car.
By the time I got home, the house was quiet except for the hum of the night air. The lights in my father's study were still on—of course they were. The man didn't sleep before midnight.
"Zack?" his voice called as soon as I stepped in. "You're back early."
I grinned faintly. "You were waiting for me, weren't you?"
He chuckled from behind his desk. "I may have been curious. So—how was the fair?"
I dropped into the armchair across from him, shaking my head. "You just want me to say you were right."
He leaned back, smiling like he'd already won. "And was I?"
I laughed under my breath. "Yeah, it was nice. She smiled a lot. Actually laughed at my jokes, which is a miracle."
"I told you," he said, eyes warm. "That girl needed a reason to breathe again. And so did you."
I hesitated, the memory flashing back—the way she'd looked at me right before she almost fainted. "Yeah," I said quietly. "It was perfect. Until it wasn't."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"She got dizzy near the end. Said she was fine, but… she wasn't herself."
Dad's expression softened, a mix of concern and knowing. "You care about her."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Is it that obvious?"
"Zack," he said with a small laugh, "you've been pacing since you came in. It's written all over your face."
I groaned, tipping my head back. "I don't even know what this is. I just—can't stop thinking about her."
He smiled, leaning forward with that familiar fatherly calm. "Since your mother passed, I haven't seen you like this. You shut everyone out, even your friends. Ariana… she brought something back, didn't she?"
I swallowed. The fire crackled softly in the background. "Maybe. It's just been me and you for so long, Dad. And I guess I got used to not letting anyone in. But today—watching her smile like that—it felt right. Like something I didn't know I was missing."
He nodded, eyes glinting. "Your mother would've liked her."
That hit a nerve I hadn't expected. "You think so?"
"I know so," he said. "Your mother always said the right person will make you feel both peace and chaos. You've been too calm for too long, son."
I chuckled lightly, the kind that hides more emotion than it shows. "You sound like some romantic movie."
"Maybe," he said, shrugging. "But if you want my opinion, Ariana's the kind of girl who changes everything. And between you and me…" He leaned in conspiratorially. "I wouldn't want you marrying anyone else."
I blinked, surprised. "Wait—what?"
He laughed at my reaction. "Oh, come on. Don't look so shocked. I'm not blind, Zack. You talk about her like she hung the moon."
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to hide my smile. "You're impossible."
"And you're falling," he teased.
I gave him a look, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "You just like being right."
"Of course I do." He stood, patting my shoulder as he passed. "Don't overthink it, son. If you feel something, hold onto it. Life's too short to let fear ruin what could be something real."
I stared at the fireplace long after he left, the words replaying in my head. Something real.
Since Mom died, I'd built walls I thought would never come down. But Ariana had walked right through them without even trying. And that scared me.
I pulled out my phone. Her name was right there at the top of my messages. I hesitated, thinking about how she'd looked under the lights of the fair—soft hair framing her face, laughter slipping out so effortlessly—and then how quickly she'd gone quiet, pale, distant.
I typed, then deleted, then typed again.
> Zack: Hey, you okay? You looked a little off earlier.
I stared at it for a few seconds, then added:
> Zack: The fair was fun though. You made it worth the trip.
Still too plain. I sighed, thumb hovering over the keyboard, before sending one last line:
> Zack: Don't ignore me or I'll just show up at your door again
A small smile tugged at my lips. The teasing was half-serious—I probably would show up if she didn't answer.
The message sent with a soft ping. I waited a minute, then another. No reply.
The silence stretched, heavy but not hopeless. Maybe she'd already fallen asleep. Maybe she was fine.
But even as I told myself that, I knew I wouldn't rest easy until I heard from her.
I leaned back, the glow from the dying fire washing over the room, and for the first time in years, I didn't feel empty. I felt… alive.
Alive, and a little terrified of what that meant.