Looking For Peace
ARIANA’S POV
I didn’t sleep.
Not even for a minute.
I lay in bed all night, eyes wide open, heart refusing to slow. The shadows on the ceiling morphed into faces—his face. That boy in the photo. My father’s secret. My blood. My brother.
The words from the note echoed on repeat, a broken record etched into my skull.
“I know everything about you, but you know nothing about me.”
By morning, I felt like I was losing it. My thoughts were knots I couldn’t untangle, looping back on themselves until I couldn’t remember what I’d already figured out and what I was still trying to understand.
What did he want?
What did he really want?
The air in my room was too heavy, like it was pressing down on my chest, making it impossible to breathe. I kicked off the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed, already dressed in a hoodie and leggings from hours earlier when I’d tried—and failed—to convince myself I might sleep.
The sky outside my window was still gray, the kind of pale, foggy blue that comes right before sunrise. I didn’t care. I needed out. Out of this room. Out of my head.
I brushed my hair into a ponytail with hands that trembled more than I liked, tugged on sneakers, and grabbed my keys.
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. My footsteps were muffled by the thick rug as I made my way toward the kitchen, hoping to slip out unnoticed.
No such luck.
“Sweetheart?” my mother’s voice floated toward me, gentle and weary.
I froze in place.
She stood at the counter in her robe, a steaming mug in hand. My grandfather sat beside her, newspaper folded neatly in front of him. Both of them looked at me like I was a glass about to crack.
“I’m fine,” I said before either of them could speak. I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Just going out for a walk. Clear my head.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed with that sixth sense only mothers had. “At six in the morning?”
I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“You haven’t been sleeping much lately,” Grandpa said quietly, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“Work’s been insane,” I lied smoothly, avoiding their eyes as I opened the fridge for a bottle of water. “Just... deadlines. Investors. You know how it is.”
They didn’t know. Not really. Not about this.
My mother opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but Grandpa beat her to it. “You know, the security team are still looking into the man who got into your room that night,” he said, voice gentle but laced with warning. “They’ll find him.”
I nodded slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle. “I’m sure they will.”
They didn’t need to know I’d already found him. Or rather, he’d found me.
And dropped a nuclear bomb on everything I thought I knew.
My mother reached out and brushed her fingers over my hand. “Just be careful, okay?”
I smiled again. Smaller. “Always.”
She nodded, though I could tell she didn’t believe me.
I took a few sips of water before glancing at the clock. My body buzzed with restless energy, as though staying still a second longer would split me open.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
A message from Hardin.
Hardin: Everything’s fine here. Boring meetings. But it would’ve been better with you beside me.
My lips curved into a real smile for the first time in hours.
God, I missed him. His presence. His calm. The way he always seemed to see through the chaos I tried so hard to contain.
I didn’t reply. Just held the phone to my chest for a moment and let the weight of his words settle into my bones like an anchor. Then I set it down, grabbed a banana from the counter, and peeled it silently.
The kitchen stayed quiet except for the rustle of the paper as Grandpa turned the page and the soft clink of my mother’s spoon in her tea. But I felt their eyes on me the entire time.
I took a few bites, chewed slowly, and made my way to the door with my bottle, keys, and one last lie resting on my tongue.
“I’ll be back soon,” I said.
“Take your time,” my mother replied softly.
I walked out into the morning fog and slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather making me flinch. The city hadn’t woken up yet. The streets were quiet. Still. But not peaceful.
My mind was too loud for that.
I didn’t have a destination. Just a need. Fresh air. Movement. Distance from everything that reminded me of what I couldn’t escape.
I turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the driveway, the radio still off, letting the silence fill the car like static.
He knows everything about me.
What did that mean, exactly?
Had he followed me? Watched me? Was he in the funeral crowd? Outside my office? Was he watching me now?
The thought made my throat close. I rolled down the window, letting the cool morning air slap me in the face, chasing away the fog in my brain.
I passed a bakery opening its doors. A jogger stretching on the sidewalk. A couple with a stroller too new to have seen any real mileage.
And still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. Measuring me. Waiting.
Why send the photo now? The test? The note?
Why not show up in person?
Because he didn’t want a conversation. He wanted leverage.
And I had no idea how far he’d go to get it.
I won’t let him take what’s mine, I told myself. I won’t let him tear this family apart just because my father made a mistake.
But a sliver of doubt twisted in my gut.
Was it really a mistake?
Or was it something more?
I gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white, breath fogging the windshield. The traffic lights blurred into streaks as I drove without direction, too deep in thought to realize how far I’d gone.
I didn’t even know what part of town I was in anymore.
I glanced down at my phone in the cupholder.
Still no new messages.
I should call Dante. Ask if he’d found anything. A current address. A photo that didn’t look like it was plucked from a time capsule.
But I didn’t.
Because some part of me didn’t want the truth. Not yet.
Some part of me was terrified of putting a grown man’s face to the haunted eyes of that little boy in the photo.
What if he looked like my father?
What if he looked like me?
I blinked hard, vision swimming. The sun was higher now, slicing through the trees in blinding shafts of gold. I turned onto a tree-lined road I didn’t recognize, trying to breathe.
Just a little farther. Just a little more time to think.
Maybe I’d park somewhere. Walk. Let the wind knock some sense back into me.
Maybe I’d go to that old park near the library where my dad used to take me when I was a kid. It felt like a lifetime ago, but maybe the bench was still there. Maybe it could hold the weight I was carrying.
I pressed my foot down, turning the corner—
And everything exploded.
A scream. Metal. Shattering glass. The jolt of impact so violent it slammed my body sideways.
Then—
Silence.
Weightless.
Then nothing.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
