~Aria's POV
Morning arrived slowly, hesitantly, almost as if it didn't want to wake me. My body ached in every joint, a dull reminder of the stormy drive and the tension that had wrapped itself around me the night before. I didn't want to move. Not yet. Not from this bed, this small cocoon of warmth and safety.
But the sharp trill of my phone cut through the quiet, dragging me out of my half-sleep. My hand flopped over the bedside table, fumbling to see the screen.
"Mr. Ryan," I muttered, blinking at the light.
"Aria? Are you okay? What happened?" His voice was calm, but threaded with concern.
Tears pricked my eyes, unbidden. My chest felt tight, heavy with the remnants of last night's chaos.
"I… I don't know, Ryan. I have no idea what's happening. They…Wendy and… everyone…they're saying things about me. About my book. I… I don't even…" My voice cracked.
"Breathe, Aria. Slow down. Calm yourself," he said gently. "I know you. I know your work. You could never plagiarize your own story."
"I… did you… settle the reporters? And… Celeste….I just ran off. She didn't even listen to me. I wanted to apologize!"
"I told her," he said firmly. "I told her that you could never plagiarize the book. She knows now. I know, Aria, I know. You're safe from the reporters here, aren't you?"
"Yes… yes, I'm safe," I whispered, sniffling.
"Good," he said. There was a pause, and then his voice lowered, thoughtful. "But Aria… do you have any idea how your book ended up in Wendy's hands?"
I shook my head, even though he couldn't see it. "No… I… I have no idea. I don't understand. She's… she's trying to ruin my life, Ryan. She's trying to… I don't even know how to get back on my feet."
"Don't cry, Aria," he said, his tone soft but firm. "Listen to me. I will do everything I can to prove that I knew about your book. That it was yours. Just… breathe. Take care of yourself. That's all I ask."
"I… thank you, Ryan. Thank you so much," I whispered, voice trembling.
"Talk to me later, alright? You'll get through this," he said.
I hung up, gripping the phone a little longer before setting it down. I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand, slowly letting the calm of the room sink in. The storm outside had passed. Rain dripped from the roof, soft and rhythmic.
I pushed myself up, stretching, limbs stiff and sore. The blindfold slipped from my eyes, and I tugged the curtains aside. Morning sunlight spilled in, golden and warm, filling the room with quiet serenity. I inhaled deeply. Fresh air, faintly scented with pine from the surrounding trees. Calm. Peace. For the first time in days, I smiled.
But then… my gaze drifted downward. My stomach did a quick flip.
Ethan.
He was standing on the balcony of the building next door, shirtless, oblivious to the world, letting the early sun hit his skin. Muscles flexed under the light, broad shoulders, strong arms, and a torso carved into a perfect six-pack. His hair was damp from the morning air, tousled just so, falling over his forehead.
I froze, heart pounding. My hands gripped the curtain edge instinctively, pulling it just enough to peek without being seen.
I whispered to myself, heart still hammering, "What… what is he doing here?"
I kept my eyes on him, but slowly, my gaze drifted past Ethan, taking in the rest of the building. It wasn't just any place; it looked more like a sprawling estate than a normal house. White walls gleamed under the morning sun, balconies wrapped around its corners, and the roof had those old, classic shingles that made it look almost like something out of a movie. Gardens stretched out below, neatly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds bursting with colors I could barely make out from here, still shimmering with dew.
A fountain gurgled somewhere near the entrance, its water sparkling in the sunlight, and I could just see glimpses of stone pathways winding through the greenery. The place screamed privacy, power, wealth. I swallowed hard.
Who lived here? How had Ethan ended up in a house like this?
I shifted slightly, craning my neck to see more, and saw a few windows open on the lower floors. Shadows moved inside, the silhouettes of people starting their day, but none seemed aware of him or me. Ethan remained still, muscles relaxed now, stretching one arm behind his head as if he'd just woken up or was enjoying the warmth of the sun.
And yet, part of me couldn't stop looking. The house, the sunlight, the way he moved so naturally in it, it was like something out of a dream, or a scene in a movie I didn't have the script for. I pressed myself a little closer to the curtain, hoping he wouldn't notice the faint rustle, and tried to steady my breathing.
Every detail seemed sharper than reality, the curve of his shoulder, the shine on the stone fountain, the soft flutter of the curtains in the open windows. I had no idea if I should be curious, cautious, or completely hypnotized.
"Focus, Aria," I muttered under my breath, tugging at the curtain. "It's just… just a guy."
But even as I said it, I knew I was lying. My eyes stayed glued to him and the house beside the hotel, trying to make sense of the quiet, impossible scene before me.
He turned slightly, scanning his surroundings. And then, our eyes met.
Time seemed to slow.
I gasped softly, pressing myself against the wall. My breath hitched.
I froze, my chest tightening so fast I thought I might stop breathing. The morning air, the soft sunlight, even the faint scent of rain lingering on the balcony, it all disappeared, replaced by the intensity of his gaze. His grey eyes, piercing and calm, held mine for a heartbeat that stretched too long.
My fingers clutched the curtain so tightly I could feel the fabric strain, and my heart felt like it had jumped into my throat.
Oh no… oh no, he saw me, I thought, panic curling up my spine. My mind scrambled, a thousand thoughts screaming at once: Hide, don't move, don't breathe too loud.
I pressed myself flat against the wall, holding my breath, trying to make myself disappear. The world around me blurred, just Ethan, just those eyes, just that impossible mix of calm and strength.
I peeked again, the corner of my eye catching the faint movement on the balcony. He was still there, still scanning, but his gaze had shifted slightly, not quite fixed on me. Relief hit me like a wave, but it was fleeting.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, pressing my palm to my mouth. "I messed up. I completely messed up."
My pulse raced, shivering from the chill of the morning and the sudden rush of fear and adrenaline. I sank a little behind the curtain, curling in on myself, wondering if I'd just embarrassed myself beyond repair without even speaking a word.
I peeped again, barely daring to move. He was there, casual, arms resting on the balcony rail, still staring off to the side as if the world had shifted only slightly for him. My heart wouldn't stop thumping, each beat louder than the rain dripping from the eaves outside.
"Focus, Aria," I whispered, trying to steady my voice, though it came out shaky. "Focus… just… breathe."