The ride home was quiet. Zayne didn't say a word, and neither did she. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the faint rhythm of rain tapping against the windshield. Her head rested against the cool glass, eyes swollen, the night's mascara still faint on her cheeks.
Brooklyn had begged her to go home with someone safe and when Zayne showed up, jaw tight, eyes stormy, she didn't even argue. She was too tired to fight, too broken to care. "Seatbelt", he muttered softly, glancing her way. She clicked it in place without looking up.
When they reached his house, the scent of sandalwood and rain filled the air. It was warm inside, too calm compared to the storm in her chest. Zayne locked the door behind them and turned to her. "You need water", he said
"I need the bathroom", she mumbled.
She walked upstairs, each step heavy, her head spinning. In the bathroom, she caught her reflection eyes red, hair tousled, the soft coils of her dyed afro sticking out like rebellion itself. For a second, she almost didn't recognize the girl staring back. Her phone buzzed on the sink.
Incoming call: Caleb
Her breath caught. For a moment, everything in her went still. He was calling. Now. After ignoring her all night. After leaving her on read. She hesitated , thumb hovering over "Answer" , but the thought of him hearing her voice shaky and weak made her drop the phone back onto the counter. It stopped ringing.
Downstairs, Zayne's deep voice called out, "You good up there?"
"Yeah," she lied.
When she came out, the call icon still glowed in her recent list. She bit her lip, unlocked the screen, and hit Call Back.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then — click.
A soft, feminine voice answered.
"Hello?"
Sage froze. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
"…Who is this?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The girl on the other end chuckled low, unbothered. "You must be the girl that keeps blowing up Caleb's phone." The world tilted. Sage's breath hitched, and before she could respond, the call ended , just like that. She stood there, staring at the screen, her reflection blurry through the tears starting to form again.
Downstairs, Zayne called her name, but she didn't answer.
Because in that moment, the silence on the line hurt more than anything Caleb could've said
He stepped lightly up the stairs, his boots barely making a sound. "Sage," he said, his tone calm but edged with steel. "Why were you at the club?"
She froze, fingers tightening around the sink edge. "I… I just—"
"No," he cut in gently but firmly, tilting his head. "Don't start lying to me. You told me you were home. So why weren't you?"
Her throat went dry. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, the words sticking.
"And why weren't you picking up your phone?" His eyes were sharp now, unwavering. "I tried calling. You left me on read. You scared me."
Tears welled up, hot and unrelenting. She wanted to explain, to tell him it wasn't what it looked like, that she was careful, that she just… needed a moment to breathe—but the lump in her throat wouldn't let her. Zayne stepped closer, closing the space between them without breaking his composed posture. His voice softened, almost dangerously low. "Sage, I'm not asking to fight. I just… need the truth."
She shook her head slightly, unable to meet him. "I… I'm sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I didn't mean… I just—"
He crouched slightly, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. "I know you didn't. But lying… leaving me in the dark, it hurts. Talk to me. Please."
Her chest heaved as the tears finally fell freely. And for the first time, despite the guilt gnawing at her, she felt the pull of his calm presence solid, protective, unyielding.
Her phone buzzed again on the counter. She froze — Caleb.
Zayne's eyes followed the movement, sharp and calculating. "Who is that?" he asked, his voice calm but firm, the kind that lets you know he expects the truth. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her shaking hands. "It's… someone from earlier," she mumbled, voice small.
"Earlier?" His brow furrowed. "And why aren't you picking up?"
"I… I just—" She faltered, unsure how to explain without admitting everything.
"Just what?" His tone didn't rise, didn't scold, but carried that quiet intensity that made her chest tighten. "Why aren't you answering your phone when someone is calling you?" Tears pricked her eyes, guilt gnawing at her. "I… I didn't want to talk… I just needed a moment," she admitted, voice barely audible.
Zayne stepped closer, the calm predator in him surfacing, protective but unrelenting. "Sage, I don't know who this is, and I don't care. What matters is you're not answering me either. Talk to me. I need to know what's going on."
Her fingers trembled over the counter, the buzzing phone suddenly feeling like a grenade in her hands. She wanted to hide, to explain, to cry, to run but instead, she froze under his steady gaze, and for the first time that night, she realized that lying or avoiding him was impossible. Zayne's presence demanded honesty whether she was ready or not.
She leaned closer, tracing her fingers along his chest, letting her body speak what her mind couldn't. "Zayne… come on," she murmured, voice low and husky, "forget everything… just me."
He froze, hands gently gripping her arms. "No," he said firmly, calm but resolute, "you're drunk. This isn't the time."
Sage pouted, eyes glinting with mischief and desire, but he didn't waver. She sighed, defeated for the moment, and stumbled downstairs, drawn to the cardboard box of whiskey on the counter. She reached for another drink, thinking it might steady her, or maybe numb the thoughts of Caleb.
"Stop," Zayne's voice came behind her, low and commanding. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest. The warmth of him pressed her upright, steadying her swaying body.
"Let's go to bed," he murmured, voice soft now, almost a growl. "You need to rest."
Before she could argue, he lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against him. Her head rested on his shoulder, heart racing, body melting against his. He carried her upstairs, each step deliberate, his presence grounding her in a way no alcohol ever could.
Once in his room, he gently laid her down on the bed and climbed in beside her, pulling the covers over them. He wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. She nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the steady rhythm of him.
"You're safe," he whispered, voice low and soothing. "Sleep now."
Her eyes fluttered shut, tension melting away. The last traces of the night's chaos the call, the guilt, the panic, slipped from her mind. In Zayne's arms, steady, strong, protective, she finally allowed herself to rest, drifting into sleep with him holding her close, the warmth of his body and steady heartbeat lulling her into peace.