~Aria's POV
Morning came quietly, like it was afraid of me.
I woke with a dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes and a weight in my chest that sleep hadn't softened at all. If anything, it felt heavier. When I dragged myself out of bed and stood in front of the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back. My eyes were swollen, rimmed red, lashes stiff with dried tears. My face looked puffy and tired in a way no amount of makeup could disguise. There was something hollow about my expression, like part of me had gone missing overnight.
Broken. That was the word that came to mind. And maybe, to be honest, it wasn't wrong.
I reached for my phone again, even though I already knew what I would find. It was still a mistake. The same headlines glared back at me. The same outrage. The same strangers dissecting my life with cruel certainty, speaking about me like I wasn't a person with lungs and skin and a heart that was actively shattering somewhere behind a locked door.
One missed call stood out.
Dad.
I stared at his name for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the screen. A part of me wondered if he was calling to apologize. To ask questions. To finally listen. But that part of me was small and tired, and it lost. I turned the phone face down instead. I didn't have the strength for another disappointment. Not today.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, just staring at the wall as sunlight crept in through the curtains. It felt like my life had shrunk overnight, like I was trapped inside it with no clear way out. Then, almost without thinking, I stood up and grabbed a bag.
I packed slowly. A few clothes. Nothing flashy. Just the basics. Toiletries. My laptop. Things that felt necessary, familiar. My hands moved on their own while my mind lagged, still trying to catch up. I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I couldn't stay here. Not in this city. Not with the walls closing in and every corner whispering my name like an accusation.
The shower steamed up the bathroom, and I stood under the water longer than I needed to, hoping it might wash something deeper than exhaustion away. When I dressed, I chose to disappear. Long jeans. A loose hoodie. A face mask. A cap pulled low. Anonymity as protection. Armor, again. Just quieter this time.
One hour later, I was on the road driving to nowhere.
The rain was coming down hard, soaking the road and making it shine under the dim streetlights. I gripped the steering wheel tight, squinting through the sheets of water that blurred everything. I had been driving for hours, not really knowing where I was going, just wanting to get away from the city, from the chaos, from myself.
Then my car shuddered violently.
The engine coughed once, twice, and went silent. My chest tightened. "No… no, not now," I whispered. I pressed the pedal again, but nothing happened. The headlights flickered, the wipers struggled, and the rain kept coming, drenching me through the windshield.
I pulled over, hands shaking. My phone glowed in the dark. Google Maps told me where I was: Nill Creek. I stared at it, disbelief settling in. I had driven for hours, and now I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, in the pouring rain, with a broken car and no clue what to do next.
I climbed out, water soaking my hoodie and hair. I popped the bonnet and stared at the engine, confused. I had no idea what to check, what to fix. The rain ran down my arms and stung my face.
"Why now? Why everything?" I muttered, frustrated, kicking at the wet gravel.
A pair of headlights appeared in the distance. They passed me once without slowing. I waved, shouting, but they didn't stop. I sighed, feeling more helpless than ever.
Then, after a few moments, the lights returned. The car slowed, pulled over, and a figure stepped out. He was wearing a long, dark raincoat, water sliding off the shoulders, hood down, revealing strong, sharp features. Even through the rain, I could see him clearly, tall, lean, moving with quiet confidence.
"Are you okay?" His voice was calm, steady, almost soft.
I held up my phone. "My car… it broke down. I don't know what's wrong."
He crouched near the bonnet, examining the engine carefully, without a word. I watched him, shivering in the rain. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes… they were grey, intense, like he could see right through me.
Then he bent down again, moving with skill and confidence, touching wires and checking the engine like he knew exactly what to do. I could only stand there, soaked and shivering, wondering how someone could be so calm in the middle of a storm, while my world was falling apart.
Minutes passed, and with a few quiet adjustments, the car roared back to life. I blinked, stunned, unsure whether to thank him or just run. He straightened, water dripping from his coat, and nodded once, almost casually, as if fixing my car was the easiest thing in the world.
I blinked at him, still soaked, heart pounding. "Th… thank you," I stammered, my voice barely audible over the rain.
He gave a faint nod, his expression calm, almost unreadable. "It's nothing," he said quietly.
I swallowed, shivering. "But… What's is…your name?"
He paused, turning his head slightly, and his grey eyes met mine. "Ethan," he whispered, just that, like it was all the introduction he was willing to give.
Before I could say anything else, ask him if there was a place nearby I could stay, beg for some kind of help, but he was already moving. Water splashed from the tires as he slid into his car, closed the door with a soft click, and the engine roared to life.
I opened my mouth, ready to call after him, but all I could hear was the rain beating down and the fading hum of his car disappearing into the dark, wet road.
I stood there for a long moment, chest tight, staring at the empty road where he had been. My hands were trembling, not from the cold, but from something else. Relief, disbelief… maybe even a spark of curiosity I didn't understand yet.
I finally shut the bonnet, climbed back into my car, and sank into the seat. My fingers still tingled from the cold, but my heart… it still thumped a little faster than it should. Whoever he was, Ethan, he had just appeared out of nowhere, fixed my car, and vanished like some shadow.
I shook my head and muttered to myself, voice small and almost humorless, "What just happened?"