KANE'S POV
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling like it had answers...it didn’t. It was just plaster and paint like everything else in my life lately, surface-deep and meaningless.
Sleep wouldn’t come, it hadn’t come for days, weeks maybe. Not without the little white pills that dulled the noise in my head and knocked me out.
And of course, tonight, the bottle was empty. I’d forgotten to call the damn pharmacy, again.
I turned to my side, nothing. Switched again, still nothing. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to shut up.
Zane’s voice kept echoing, his smug face. Aria’s shoulders trembling under pressure she shouldn’t have had to bear. The way her face fell when he called her that word.
And that forehead kiss... the one I stupidly gave her. God, what was that?
I sat up with a groan and dragged myself to my desk. If I couldn’t sleep, maybe I could work...numbers were safer than people.
I opened my laptop. The screen glared at me, I stared at a balance sheet for twenty minutes and retained absolutely nothing.
Useless.
I checked the time. 12:17 AM.
Maybe milk.
I got up, opened the door and froze. I heard something downstairs. A faint hum… television?
Frowning, I padded down the steps and turned the corner.
Aria.
She was curled on the couch like it was hers. Legs propped up on the coffee table. Cookies and milk on a tray like she’d planned a sleepover.
The TV played something enough to fill the silence. She looked… peaceful. Not happy, but peaceful.
Her head turned, and she saw me. "Couldn’t sleep either?" she asked, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.
I blinked. That smile… it was almost warm.
"Something like that..." I muttered, heading into the kitchen and pouring milk like a man avoiding landmines.
"You should join me" she called out behind me.
I scoffed. "I’ll pass."
I was already turning to leave when she said it.
"I have nothing else to offer for what you did tonight" she said, her eyes still on the screen. "But maybe… I could offer a little company?"
I stopped mid-step.
I stood there, stupidly frozen, her words looping in my head.
I hesitated, milk in hand, still caught in that pause between refusal and surrender. She didn’t look at me again, just leaned back and focused on the movie like my presence didn’t matter.
Maybe that was why I finally walked over.
With a sigh that was more for myself, I dropped onto the couch beside her, close enough that our elbows nearly touched.
The movie was romantic… and painfully slow. The kind of plot where people stared at each other for too long and spoke in vague metaphors. I yawned loudly.
She shot me a glare.
Then, without a word, she broke off a piece of her cookie and held it out to me.
"I baked it" she said proudly, eyebrows raised like she expected praise before I’d even tasted it.
I took it reluctantly, popped it into my mouth, and chewed. It was… good, surprisingly so.
"Not bad" I said.
Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile before she turned back to the screen.
Something funny happened and she laughed. It was loud, unfiltered, the kind of laugh people don’t fake. I didn’t laugh, but I looked at her.
And in that moment, it hit me again how strong she was. After everything, to still laugh, to still have warmth in her voice. I didn’t know how she did it.
Time slipped by quietly. I glanced at my watch — 2:03 AM.
She shifted beside me, head slowly dropping until it landed softly on my shoulder, I froze. But she didn’t move again, her breath evened out and her body relaxed, she was asleep.
I stayed still for a while, unsure what to do. Then, gently, I eased her off me, letting her head rest against the pillow. I grabbed the throw blanket from the other couch, draped it over her, and turned off the TV.
As I stood there watching her sleep... the faint furrow between her brows even in rest — a strange tightness pulled at my chest.
Then I walked back to my room.
Six more days.
••
ARIA'S POV
I groaned, rubbing my eyes as I slowly sat up on the couch. My back ached, my neck felt like it had been twisted into a knot, and my mouth tasted like stale cookies and sleep...lovely.
I blinked at the dim morning light peeking through the curtains and yawned so hard it nearly cracked my jaw. When I shifted, the blanket draped over me slid down my shoulders.
Kane must’ve tucked me in, how sweet.
I swung my legs off the couch, stretching like a cat, letting out one of those embarrassing, strangled morning noises I’d never let anyone hear under normal circumstances.
The TV was off, cookies still on the table, the milk half-finished. I remembered the night, his yawns, his barely-there smile, his reluctant company. I smirked a little to myself. Poor guy probably had no idea what to do with someone like me.
Just as I was about to head upstairs and wash the night off my skin, my phone buzzed. Once...then again. Then it was full-blown convulsing like it was going into cardiac arrest.
I picked it up. I saw it, news alerts, mentions, social media tags, messages so many messages.
I opened the first one and there it was.
"Zane Callahan’s Ex-Wife Returns To Haunt Brother: Gold Digger or True Love?"
My lips parted slightly. Haunt? What the actual hell?
I scrolled further. The hashtags started rolling in like a slap in the face.
#CallahanBrothersBattleOverWomen
#IsAriaWhitmoreThePrize
#ScandalRocksGala
#EmotionallyUnstable
#StillObsessed
My throat tightened as I read them again, slower. Each one dug its nails into my chest, twisting whatever pride I had left.
I opened the comments.
"This woman’s obsessed. Let Zane move on bitch."
"She must be mentally ill."
"Kane’s clearly being manipulated."
My lungs stilled, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak. My hand shook, the phone wobbling as I tried to scroll without flinging it across the room.
"She must’ve planned this. No way Kane fell for her for real."
"She’s disgusting. I feel bad for both brothers."
I laughed out loud. 'Oh, you feel bad for them? Really?" I muttered.
I tossed the phone on the coffee table and stared down at it like it was radioactive. My cheeks burned but not with embarrassment, but with fury. Who the hell were these people to write me off like that? Like I was some unstable parasite feeding off the Callahan name.
Like I hadn’t bled, like I hadn’t lost, like I hadn’t been broken by the very man they’re worshipping online.
They think I want Zane back?
God.
I clenched my jaw. My fingers balled into fists at my sides. The ache in my chest wasn't grief anymore. It was something worse than pain. I could literally still see his smug expression from last night, the way he looked at me like I was some fallen thing, like he wasn’t the reason I shattered.
I turned and walked toward the stairs, each step harder than the last. I nearly fell into him—Kane—as he stepped out of his suite. My breath caught in my throat, and for a second, all I could do was glare up at him with my phone clutched in my hand.
"Did you see it?" I demanded, already knowing the answer. My voice was sharper than I intended, like I was trying to wound with my panic.
He just nodded, calm as ever, walking right past me "That’s not even the worst part.." he muttered.
My stomach dropped as I followed him into the living room, chest tight, feet moving before my brain caught up.
And then I saw it.
He turned on the TV and there they were, Zane and Sibil. Side by side like some twisted power couple on a morning talk show. The banner at the bottom of the screen was so dramatic it made me sick: "Callahan Family Torn Apart: Zane and Sibil Speak Out."
I could already feel my rage climbing up my throat, but I stood frozen.
Zane was leaning forward, that familiar performative concern painted on his face. That look he used when he was trying to seem composed, rational, heartbroken. It used to work on me. Now it made me want to scream.
"It’s just… heartbreaking y'know" he said, shaking his head slightly. "To watch someone you once loved spiral this way. I tried to help her… we both did."
Oh my fucking God.
Sibil nodded, her perfectly made-up face dripping with faux pity as she clung to his hand like the two of them were survivors of some noble tragedy.
"It’s been hard for Zane...for both of us" she said, her voice trembling. "Seeing Aria dragged back into the spotlight like this. It’s just... sad."
I stared, my nails digging into my palm so hard I was sure I’d drawn blood.
"She’s clearly in pain.." Zane added, giving the camera this fake ass look of gentle concern. "And I don’t think Kane is doing her any favors by enabling this behavior. I just hope she gets the help she needs."
My heart dropped like lead in my chest. I couldn’t breathe for a second. He didn’t say it outright, he didn’t have to.
In front of the whole goddamn world, he was turning my pain into a narrative. A prop for his victim act. I felt like I was being gutted slowly, methodically, while the world applauded his bravery.
I couldn’t move or even speak. I felt Kane watching me, but I couldn’t even lift my gaze.
This wasn’t just a media stunt.
It was war. And Zane...Zane was trying to bury me alive with my own grief.