The weekend didn't feel like relief.
Aria woke before her alarm, sunlight spilling through the thin curtains in soft, uneven lines. The room was quiet—too quiet. No rush. No classes. No expectations pressing down on her chest.
And yet, her mind was already awake.
Back home, weekends were never like this.
They were scheduled down to the hour—art exhibitions where she had to stand straight and smile at strangers, long family dinners filled with polite conversation and unspoken expectations, piano lessons that left her fingers aching while someone reminded her she was "wasting her potential" if she didn't practice harder. Even rest had structure. Even silence was monitored.
Here, there was none of that.
She could sleep in.
She just… couldn't.
Aria sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The unfamiliar freedom felt heavy, like she didn't quite know how to carry it yet.
She reached for her phone instead.
Ava.
Her thumb hovered for only a second before she unlocked the screen.
And froze.
Multiple messages. Unread. Sent hours ago.
Her heart lurched as she opened the chat.
Aria, he knows.
Not everything but—something's wrong.
Matthias figured it out.
I didn't mean to tell him, I swear.
He asked questions.
I think he's testing me now.
Aria's breath left her in a slow, shaky exhale.
So that was why she'd woken up restless.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
Across cities, Ava was dealing with consequences Aria couldn't reach—alone, surrounded by power she didn't understand and a boy who saw too much.
Here, Aria stood in borrowed freedom, suddenly aware that while she'd escaped one kind of cage…
Ava had walked straight into another.
Her phone buzzed again.
Zack:Morning.
The timing felt cruel.
Aria stared at the screen, then at Ava's messages, the weight of both lives pressing against her chest at once.
Weekend or not—
There would be no rest for either of them now.
Aria stared at the message for a moment longer than necessary.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Another buzz.
Zack: It's the weekend. Thought we could hang out.
Zack: There's a park near my place. Nothing fancy.
Nothing fancy.
That was exactly the problem.
Aria leaned back against the headboard, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Parks were unscheduled. Casual. Unmonitored. No expectations to perform, no reason to dress up, no audience to impress.
Ava's world.
Not hers.
She typed, erased, typed again.
I'm not really—
Delete.
Too cold.
Maybe another time?
Delete.
That sounded like rejection.
Her phone vibrated again before she could decide.
Zack: We don't have to do anything. Just sit.
Zack: You've been… quiet lately.
Her chest tightened.
Of course he noticed.
Zack noticed everything—but never in a way that felt invasive. Just patient. Steady. Like he wasn't trying to pull answers out of her, only offering space for them.
Aria glanced back at Ava's messages.
He's testing me now.
Two lives. Two boys. Both watching more closely than they should.
She swallowed.
Okay, she typed.
The park is fine.
The reply came almost immediately.
Zack: Really?
Zack: Great. I'll text you the location.
Aria set the phone down slowly, her pulse uneven.
Hanging out wasn't part of the plan.
But then again—neither was any of this.
She exhaled, pushing herself off the bed.
If Ava was facing Matthias alone…
Then maybe, just this once—
She would also like to face Zack alone.
And as she moved to get ready, one thought lingered quietly at the back of her mind:
This was supposed to be simple.
Which meant it probably wouldn't be.
After taking a quick shower and having breakfast with Ava's suspecting parents. She rushed back to her room to avoid questions that could screw her over.
After a while, she stood in the middle of Ava's room, phone pressed to her ear, listening to it ring unanswered for the third time.
Straight to voicemail.
Her grip tightened. "Pick up," she muttered, pacing once before stopping. Ava always picked up. Even when she was busy. Even when she was half-asleep. The silence felt wrong—too loud.
She lowered the phone and stared at the screen, a knot forming in her chest.
Fine. Later.
She turned to the wardrobe instead—and immediately frowned.
She had tried looking for something to wear. Hoodies slung over hangers, joggers folded without care, oversized shirts pushed to one side. Comfortable. Unconcerned. Nothing screamed park on a Saturday with a boy who asked you out.
Aria exhaled slowly.
"What do people even wear to a park?" she asked the empty room, half-expecting Ava to answer.
She pulled out a hoodie. Too casual. Put it back.
Another. Still wrong.
She was about to give up when her fingers brushed something different—fabric softer, smoother. Hidden at the very back, almost forgotten.
Aria paused.
She pulled it free.
A blue dress.
Not loud. Not flashy. Simple, knee-length, the kind that moved when you walked and didn't try too hard to be noticed. The color was soft but deep, like a clear sky just before evening.
Aria stared at it, surprised.
"She has a dress?" she whispered, more to herself than the room.
She hadn't known this existed. Hadn't imagined Ava owning anything like this at all.
Slowly, Aria held it up against herself in the mirror.
It fit. Not just physically—but emotionally, in a way she hadn't expected.
Her phone buzzed suddenly in her hand.
She flinched, hope spiking—then fell when she saw it wasn't Ava.
Zack: Still on for the park? I can pick you up if you want.
Aria looked back at her reflection. At the dress. At the unfamiliar girl staring back, caught between two lives that weren't quite hers.
She typed back after a moment.
Aria: I'll meet you there.
She set the phone down, fingers lingering on the edge of the screen.
No reply.
Still nothing from Ava.
Aria forced herself to breathe and slipped the blue dress over her head.
It felt strange—not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. The fabric sat lightly against her skin, nothing like the structured outfits she was used to. No stiffness. No rules sewn into the seams. When she turned slightly, the dress moved with her instead of against her.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
This was Ava's room. Ava's clothes. Ava's reflection staring back at her.
And yet, for a moment, it almost worked.
Aria reached for her phone again, thumb hovering over Ava's name. She tried once more.
Call failed.
Her chest tightened.
She imagined Ava—somewhere far away, probably spiraling, probably pretending she wasn't scared. The frantic messages from earlier replayed in her head.
She could never guess what was going on in Matthias' head. She really hoped Ava was okay.
Aria swallowed and locked her phone.
"I'll deal with you later," she murmured, unsure whether she meant Ava or the knot forming in her chest.
Zack's message followed almost immediately.
Zack: I'm leaving now.
Aria grabbed her bag, hesitated, then took one last look at the hoodie folded on the chair. Familiar. Safe.
She turned away.
As she stepped out of the room, the house felt quieter than it had all morning. No schedules waiting. No reminders. No expectations pressing down on her shoulders.
Just open time.
And somehow, that unsettled her more than anything else.
Because for the first time in a long while—
She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do next.
After telling Ava's parents where she was going, Aria stepped out into the afternoon heat with her phone already in hand.
She paused at the gate, staring down at the map on her screen like it might suddenly rearrange itself into something simpler.
"Okay… park," she muttered under her breath. "How hard can that be?"
Apparently, very.
She followed the directions at first—confident, purposeful—until the streets began to blur into one another. Every turn felt almost right. Every shortcut promised by the map led her somewhere longer, louder, more unfamiliar.
She walked past small shops, crossed roads she wasn't sure she was supposed to cross, doubled back twice when the signal lagged.
Her steps slowed. Her shoulders tightened.
This was what Ava meant, she realized—not being bound to schedules or drivers, but also not being guided. No one correcting her path. No one telling her she was late or early or wrong.
She checked her phone again.
Still ten minutes away.
Aria exhaled sharply and kept walking.
By the time she finally spotted the park gates, her legs ached and her hair clung uncomfortably to her neck. The blue dress, light as it was, felt heavier now, damp with heat. She stopped just outside the entrance, hands on her knees, catching her breath.
"So… this," she murmured, straightening slowly, "is freedom."
She almost laughed—breathless, tired, but strangely proud.
The park stretched out before her, green and open, filled with scattered voices and movement. Somewhere inside it, Zack was waiting.
Aria smoothed her dress, wiped her palms against the strap of her bag, and stepped forward—worn out, slightly disoriented, but still moving.
Still showing up.
******
Ava sat rigidly at the long dining table, spine straight only because the corset left her no other option.
The dress was beautiful in a way that felt cruel—structured, elegant, unforgiving. Each breath was shallow, measured, stolen. She resisted the urge to tug at the fabric digging into her ribs. That alone would have drawn attention. Weakness was not allowed here.
Crystal glasses. Polished silver. Soft candlelight.
And across from her—
Matthias.
He sat comfortably, composed as ever, sleeves crisp, posture relaxed. As if this were just another normal day. As if he hadn't torn her world open yesterday and then sealed it shut with silence.
The room hummed with quiet conversation from the others at the table, words flowing around Ava without touching her. She heard nothing. Felt nothing but the pressure in her chest and the weight of his presence.
She lifted her gaze despite herself.
His eyes met hers instantly.
Unblinking. Knowing.
The only person in this room who knew exactly who she was.
Matthias's fingers tapped once against his glass, slow and deliberate. Then he leaned back slightly, lips curving just enough to make her stomach twist.
A warning? What did he mean?
Ava's lungs burned as she drew another shallow breath.
And in that moment, trapped in silk and bone and secrets, she understood one terrifying truth—
She wasn't pretending anymore.
She was totally screwed....