ARLAN’S POV:
The clock ticked steadily in the quiet of my bedroom, but sleep refused to come. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying Saraya’s voice in my head.
Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. “Evan called me a whore.”
The pain in her voice had been unmistakable, and it clung to me like a phantom, haunting me as I closed my eyes.
My chest tightened as the memory of her tone, so raw and vulnerable, played over and over. It was as if the weight of her hurt had settled in my bones. I turned over, hoping to will the thoughts away, but they refused to leave.
Frustration clawed at me. I couldn’t just lie here, stewing in guilt and helplessness.
Without a second thought, I threw off the covers and got out of bed. My movements were quick, almost frantic, as I shed my pajamas and slipped into a pair of jeans and a black hoodie. The cool fabric felt grounding against my restless skin. I needed air. I needed… to clear my buzzing head.
The city was quiet as I drove aimlessly through the streets, the low hum of the car engine filling the void in my mind. The glow of streetlights blurred past, and for a moment, I let the monotony of the drive numb me.
But it wasn’t enough. My chest still ached, a gnawing guilt eating away at me. Pulling over to the side of the road, I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
I lit one, the flame briefly illuminating the dark interior of the car. The first drag was sharp, burning in my lungs, but it steadied me. Smoke curled around me, blending with the cold night air as I exhaled.
For a moment, I just sat there, staring out into the empty street. The cigarette dangled between my fingers as my mind drifted back to her. Saraya. Her laughter. Her body. The way her eyes could light up even the darkest room.
And now… this. Her voice, trembling, broke through my thoughts again. “I just… I wish you’d understand me.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. Without fully thinking it through, I grabbed my phone and dialed her number.
The ringing felt like a lifetime, but when she finally picked up, her voice was soft and cautious. “What is it this time?”
“Meet me,” I said, my voice steady but urgent.
“Now?” she asked, confusion and hesitation clear in her tone.
“Yes,” I replied, flicking the cigarette out the window. “I need to see you.”
There was a beat of silence before she sighed. “Okay. Where?”
I gave her the address of a park nearby and hung up before she could say anything.
I leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the empty road ahead. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her, but one thing was certain-I couldn’t let her face this alone. Not when she was breaking and I could do something about it.
“Let’s take it one step at a time, Arlan.” I told myself.
SARAYA’S POV
The house was silent, shrouded in the stillness of night. I tiptoed down the stairs, careful to avoid making an compromising sound. My heart pounded in my chest.
Arlan sudden call got me surprised at first and when I finally got over his changed mind, I quickly hopped out of the bed and got changed into a pair of casual pants and a round neck top.
I reached for the door, but a soft voice stopped me cold.
“And where do you think you’re going at this hour?”
I stopped abruptly on my tracks, my hand freezing, stood at the base of the staircase was my grandmother. Her arms folded across her chest. Even in her nightgown, she carried herself with the same regal air she always did-like she owned every room she walked into. Her sharp gaze pinned me in place.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I just thought I’d go for a drive to clear my head.”
Isla stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me, Saraya. You wear your emotions as plainly as your mother did. It’s written all over your face.”
I stiffened, the mention of my mother like a slap. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “I’m not lying,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m going out for a ride.”
Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, but there was no warmth in it. “You’re a Newman now,” she said, her tone low but firm. “And as a Newman, you don’t just think about yourself anymore. Whatever you do, wherever you go, you must consider what it means for this family’s dignity.
My jaw tightened. The words felt like chains wrapping around me, heavy and suffocating. “Why can’t I just live my life for me?” I thought.
Isla’s eyes bore into mine, her presence as commanding as ever. “Don’t forget that, Saraya. You carry our name now, and with it comes responsibility. Recklessness is a luxury you can no longer afford, so if you’re involve in anything that could tarnish the imagine of this family, I’ll tell you to reconsider because I won’t let you.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over me like a cold shroud. “I know,” I murmured, lowering my gaze.
“Good,” she said simply, her expression softened a bit. She turned and began ascending the stairs, pausing only once to look back at me. “Be careful, Saraya. I’ve got my eyes on you.”
I waited until she disappeared down the hallway before exhaling the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My hands trembled as I opened the door, slipping out into the cool night air.
The drive to the park felt longer than it should have, my grandmother’s words echoing in my mind. “Recklessness is a luxury you can no longer afford.”
But as I pulled up and spotted Arlan leaning against his car, his figure illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlights, all those thoughts solidified in my head.