ZAYNE'S POV
I stood in front of my easel, paintbrush idle in my hand. Angel had left her scarf here again—that silly yellow one with tiny paint stains along the edge. I picked it up and ran my fingers along the threads.
The scent of her still lingered.
People asked when I started falling for her. I used to say it was this year, during class. That it was her art, her laugh, the way she tilted her head when she sketched.
But that was a lie.
The truth?
I fell for Angel years ago.
I just never had the words for it.
FLASHBACK –
I was eight. She was six.
We were at a park. I remembered it clearly. Mom had dropped me off with my sketchpad and told me to draw the trees.
She was chasing butterflies in a white sundress. Her laugh was wild, full of freedom. I didn't know her name.
Until everything went wrong.
A woman, disheveled, barefoot, her eyes flickering like she saw ghosts—came up and offered Angel a balloon.
She smiled and took it.
Then the woman took her hand.
I remember shouting. I remember running after them.
The woman grabbed me too. Said we were her children now. Locked us in a tiny storage room behind her house.
Angel cried. A lot. I held her hand and told her stories.
She called me brave.
But on the third night, she hit her head trying to escape.
When they found us, she didn't remember anything.
Didn't remember me.
Didn't remember what we went through.
But I never forgot her.
Her name had been Angel even then. It was the only part that stuck with her.
I searched for her online for years. Then I saw her name again—on the class roster for the Fine Arts department.
And there she was.
Same laugh. Same glow.
She didn't know me. But I watched her quietly, waiting for the right moment.
That night at the bar? I was already there. I had followed her, not in a creepy way—but because something told me she might need someone.
And I was right.
That guy had raised a bottle to her, and instinct kicked in. I took the hit.
And from that moment, I vowed I'd never let anything hurt her again.
ANGEL'S POV
Summer break had officially begun, and while most students went home or partied in the city, Zayne and I took off to the countryside.
He said he knew a tourist village surrounded by mountains, with art museums, waterfalls, and treehouse cafes.
I said yes before he even finished the sentence.
The air was different here—cleaner, calmer.
Every morning we took walks. Every evening we painted side by side in our cabin.
It was the happiest I'd been in a long time.
One night, we were out on a hilltop, sitting under the stars, watching distant fireworks from a local festival.
Then it started to rain.
Just a drizzle, at first.
Then harder.
I laughed and danced for a moment, but when I turned around, I saw Zayne frozen.
His eyes wide.
His chest rising and falling in panic.
"Zayne?" I walked toward him. "Hey, what's wrong?"
He shook his head slightly. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't.
He wouldn't move until I pulled him under a small tree, both of us getting soaked.
We sat there in silence, his fingers trembling slightly.
"You okay now?" I asked softly.
He nodded, not meeting my eyes. "Just... bad memories."
I didn't push.
But that moment stayed with me.
ZAYNE'S POV
I hated rain.
Not because it was cold or wet.
But because it reminded me of the night Angel hit her head. The night I held her in my arms, thinking I might lose her.
The roof leaked. The storm raged. And I was just a boy trying to protect a girl who wouldn't remember me.
Now, sitting beneath the tree beside her, I realized I wasn't scared anymore.
Because this time, she was holding me.
Even if she didn't know why.
ANGEL'S POV
Back in the cabin, I watched Zayne sketch something under the glow of a lantern.
I walked over. "What are you drawing?"
He hesitated, then turned the sketchpad.
It was me.
Six years old. In a white sundress. Chasing butterflies.
I stared at it. "How did you..."
"Just a dream," he said quickly. "Maybe from something I saw."
But there was something in his voice.
Something deeper.
I didn't ask. Not yet.
But I knew.
He was holding something.
Something that would change everything when he let it out.
ENDING SCENE
Zayne sat outside the cabin the next morning, watching the sunrise.
He held the old sketch of six-year-old Angel in one hand.
And her current scarf in the other.
Someday, he would tell her.
But for now, he would just love her.
Quietly.
Deeply.
Always.
RYAN'S POV
Summer break.
It meant different things to different people.
To me? It meant silence. No classes. No projects. No seeing her walking past me with those sketch-stained fingers and that clueless smile that made my chest twist.
Angel was gone. Literally.
Ray said she left with Zayne to some village surrounded by trees and waterfalls. Romantic.
Perfect.
Sickening.
I hadn't coded in days. Heart.exe just sat on my screen, the cursor blinking like a countdown to madness.
I grabbed my basketball and walked to the court.
Maybe I could shoot the feelings out.
But they followed me.
Everywhere.
LUCY'S POV
"So what do you mean Ryan's been ghosting everyone?" I asked Ray as we lounged by the pool.
"I mean he doesn't reply to texts, doesn't hang out, doesn't even come to the group chats. James said he stopped going to the gym, too."
"Damn... I feel kind of bad."
"You? Feeling bad?" Annie teased from her sunbed.
"Well, yeah. I mean, even if Angel chose Zayne, Ryan's still our guy."
Ray sighed. "It was never about who got the girl. It was how fast Ryan started falling. That's what ruined him."
"I just hope he doesn't break himself in the process," Annie added.
JACK'S POV
"We should drag his butt out of the cave," I said to James while we lifted weights.
"I tried. He won't budge."
"Even for video games?"
James shook his head. "Not even Mario Kart."
That was serious.
ANGEL'S POV
We spent the morning hiking up the mountain trail. Zayne held my hand the entire way, careful not to let me trip over the roots and stones.
When we reached the top, the view knocked the breath out of me.
"You always take me to beautiful places," I whispered.
He smiled. "You deserve to see yourself reflected in the world."
I turned to look at him.
His eyes were soft, loving, heavy with something he still hadn't said.
"Zayne... can I ask you something weird?"
He nodded. "Anything."
"That day it rained... you looked terrified. But you never told me why."
His smile faltered. "Because it's a long story. One I'm not ready to share."
I nodded slowly. "I'll wait."
He kissed the back of my hand. "That's why I love you."
I blinked. "You... you love me?"
His cheeks flushed but he held my gaze. "Yes. Since I was eight years old."
RYAN'S POV
I stared at my phone.
Her name was still there. Still pinned to the top.
I opened our old chat, typed something, then erased it.
Again.
And again.
Then finally:
Ryan: You ever wonder if we could've worked... if I'd told you sooner?
I didn't hit send.
I just stared at the blinking cursor.
Because some truths hurt more when spoken.
And sometimes, silence is the only way to survive.