PAST
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MELINA'S POV
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" How's your leg?" Zara asked softly, sliding into the seat beside me.
Her cheeks still carried faint streaks of dried tears, her lashes clumped together from the ones that hadn't dried yet. She cried again. My heart ached at the sight, but as much as I wanted to ask what was wrong, I held myself back. She would tell me when she was ready. Pressing her right now would only push her away.
Angela had been a surprising help earlier. After the Bulldozer No.1—who had so gracefully crushed my leg (crushed is an exaggeration, but still)—stormed out of the nursing room, as soon as Angela came in. Thank goodness she did. She helped me hobble back to class before disappearing just as quickly. She's cold, yes, but I can't deny she stepped in when I needed it. That counts for something. Provided, at the nurse's office she was sweet.
"After making Zara cry and crushing Melina's leg, and fighting each other like sworn enemies, they just walked past the classroom like conjoined twins!" Dove flared, her voice dripping with annoyance. She looked ready to breathe fire at them.
Zara stayed quiet. I swallowed the urge to bring it up, knowing if I poked at the subject now, she'd shut down even more.
"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath.
Zara's hand brushed against mine as she leaned down to check my leg. "By the way, can you walk?"
"Well, it's fine. I'm getting better. I can walk."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, then she said, "Let's go to my house then."
"What? But we have classes," I protested immediately.
"No problem. We do that all the time," Dove chimed in as if skipping class was just a normal Tuesday ritual.
"Won't her parents say something?" I whispered. "Because if my parents know, I'm—" I dragged my thumb across my neck, pretending to slit it.
"Don't tell them, girl. It's fine to skip sometimes." Zara's tone was light, but then her voice cracked just enough to reveal the truth. "I can't stay in this college a moment longer. It's suffocating me."
That stopped me cold. This was the most Zara had ever revealed about her feelings. Usually she bottled everything up, kept that perfect, quiet mask. Seeing a crack in it made me want to protect her more.
I tapped the bench and stood, determined. "Let's go."
———
Hollow bricks lined the edges of her lawn, the symmetry neat and deliberate. The grass was trimmed to perfection, like it had been combed a hundred times by invisible hands. A wide patch of land was dedicated solely to gardening, with rows of flowers swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.
It struck me then how vast her house really was. Last time I visited was for her grandmother's birthday, and I never paid attention to the details. Seeing it now, without the distraction of guests, it screamed wealth from every corner.
Ugh, rich brat. With Zara, you forget how rich her family is. She hides it, wears it lightly. But Theo? He makes sure the entire world knows he's the spoiled product of privilege, dripping arrogance like cologne.
"Don't talk about their father," Dove whispered in my ear as Zara walked ahead, waving at us to follow.
"Why?" I whispered back.
"You'll know," Dove murmured, her eyes dark with warning.
And suddenly, Zara's quiet tears, her suffocation at college, and Dove's cryptic words all tangled together into a mystery I wasn't sure I was ready to solve—but I knew I'd have to.
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I looked around the interior properly this time, letting the bright daylight reveal every detail. Last time I was here, everything had been a roller coaster—events crashing over one another, emotions spiking, and… Ellie.
Where was that Ellie thing now? Wherever.As long as I am in peace.
The house looked as intricate as a museum. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead like sugar beads I wanted to pluck and eat. A perfectly arranged dining table sat in the center, with tall candles and a delicate flower vase that looked too pretty to touch.
If I lived here, I'd probably never leave the dining room. Well, not that I eat any less now, but still.
The curtains draped along the walls were heavy and expensive, their fabric clearly not from a bargain shop. Everything here screamed money.
"Mumm! Come here, my friends are here!" Zara called out.
I braced myself. Families like hers usually had maids doing everything. That meant her mom would make an entrance looking exactly like one of those rich mistresses—silk or velvet robe, skin glowing without a speck of dust, nails manicured, and maybe even a sheet mask clinging to her face.
And just as I pictured it, a lady emerged from behind the curtains. Elegant, polished, and dramatic—exactly as I imagined.
"I'm brilliant," I muttered under my breath, smirking at my own accuracy.
But then she opened her mouth.
"Is this new peasant your friend?" she asked, pointing directly at me.
Ouch. That stung.
"Shut up, Amanda! Don't call her a peasant!" Zara barked at her.
I whipped my head toward Dove, eyes wide, practically screaming: Did she just call her mom by name?!
"Sorry, Mel. That is Father's little sister," Zara explained, rolling her eyes.
"Your aunt?" I whispered back. "Why is she here, then?"
"That's just how it is here," Zara muttered, watching the so-called material girl sway her hips out of the room.
Before I could digest that, another figure appeared. This one from behind the kitchen curtains.
She looked so different from Amanda it was almost shocking. Her hair had strands of grey, her eyes soft but tired, her dress plain and dull green, like it had been worn and re-worn for months. She had no jewelry, no fancy makeup, no polished shine.
What she did have was a smile. A smile so warm, so genuine, it felt almost out of place in today's world.
"Are you Zara's and Dove's Melina?" she asked as she stepped toward me.
My heart fluttered at her words—Zara's and Dove's Melina. For the first time in a while, I felt like I belonged.
I glanced at Zara and Dove, who immediately struck ridiculous poses as if they were being painted for a portrait. I laughed.
Her mom clasped both my hands gently. "Zara always talks about you."
Her touch was frail, and without thinking, I caressed her knuckles softly.
"This is my mom, Melina!" Zara said proudly, slipping an arm around her waist.
"Not yours, Zara. She's ours now," Dove declared, sticking her tongue out.
"You can take my brother, Dove. Mama is mine," Zara shot back, pulling her mom closer.
"Ew, who wants your brother? Give him to Melina. I want Mom!" Dove teased, flicking Zara's forehead before sprinting toward the lawn.
Zara immediately chased after her, both of them yelling as if the whole neighborhood needed to know.
'Give your brother to Melina!' Dove's voice echoed in me.
Her words lingered in my chest, leaving behind a ticklish, snow-like flutter in my stomach.
"They're like that in college too, aren't they?" Zara's mom asked, pulling me back from my daydream.
"A-ah? Yes, exactly. They drag me into their banter whether I want to or not," I admitted, smiling.
"And I enjoy it too," I added more quietly.
She studied me with soft eyes. "I hear about you from my son's room as well."
What?
Before I could ask what she meant, she patted my shoulder. "I'll bring you something to drink."
With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me at the dining table, her words circling in my head. From his son's room?
Theo.
What exactly had he been saying about me?
Pushing the thought aside, I frowned. Why was she doing the house chores herself? With a house this big, there had to be maids around. Was she happy here? Did anyone even notice the weight she carried?
My thoughts were cut short when the front door
slammed open with a loud, thunderous bang.
And just like that, the warmth of the moment shattered.
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