Silent pain

Aria pov

“Aria? Hey, are you alright?"

Blake’s warm, smooth voice snapped me out of my trance.

I blinked rapidly, coming crashing back into reality. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my cheeks felt like they were on fire. I looked up to see Blake standing right in front of me in the quiet library hallway, holding my scattered textbooks stretched out toward me in his hands.

There was no kiss. No gentle touch on my face. No sweet whispered words about being his 'Secret Girl.' It had all been a foolish daydream spinning wildly inside my hopeful head.

"Oh! Yes! I'm…so sorry!" I squeaked out, my voice high and embarrassed.

A deep, burning blush rushed across my face as I quickly reached out and took the heavy books from his hands, pulling them tightly against my chest. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, totally unable to look him in the eye after the embarrassing scenario I had just imagined in my mind.

Blake let out a light, easy chuckle. He gave me a friendly smile, totally unaware of the crazy thoughts running through my mind.

"You should really watch where you're going next time, Aria," Blake said casually, taking a step back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his blue athletic jacket. "I wouldn't want you tripping and getting hurt with all those heavy books."

"T-Thank you, Blake," I stuttered, my cheeks burning even hotter.

"No problem. See you around," he replied with a smooth wave before turning on his heel and walking down the corridor toward the gymnasium.

I stood there for a long moment, watching his tall, athletic frame disappear around the corner. A small, giddy smile crept onto my lips despite the reality check. Even if the kiss hadn't been real, he had still helped me. He had still used my name and smiled at me so sweetly.

When I finally arrived back at the Hayes estate later that afternoon, the suffocating atmosphere of the house hit me the moment I stepped into the foyer.

I walked toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find my mother standing near the polished marble island. She was surrounded by dozens of glossy designer bags, holding up an expensive silk dress against her frame while talking excitedly to one of the housemaids.

"...and the boutique in the city center had the most gorgeous summer line!" my mother gushed, not even looking up as I walked into the room. "Richard gave me his credit card for the afternoon, and I simply couldn't resist!"

I walked over to the refrigerator in silence. She went on and on, chattering about high-end brands, shoes, and luxury jewelry. Not once did she pause to ask me how my day was. Not once did she ask how my classes went or if I had eaten lunch.

I didn't bother trying to start a conversation. I was completely used to it by now. Ever since she married Richard Hayes, her mind was entirely consumed by money, status, and fitting into high society.

"Aria, honestly!" my mother suddenly snapped, turning around to glare at my baggy gray sweater and plain jeans. Her pleasant voice instantly vanished, replaced by an irritated scowl. "Look at what you're wearing! Must you always look so drab?"

I took a slow sip of my water, keeping my voice quiet. "I like being comfortable, Mom."

"Well, stop embarrassing me!" she scolded, crossing her arms. "I buy you all those bright, colorful designer dresses so you can take your rightful place in the Hayes family! If you actually dressed like you belonged here, maybe Jaxon wouldn't find so many reasons to mock you every single day!"

She let out a short, cruel laugh, shaking her head. "Honestly, you make it so easy for him to pick on you."

My hands clenched around my glass. The sharp bite of her words hurt more than Jaxon's insults ever could. Instead of defending her own daughter, she was blaming me for my own bullying just because I didn't care about her shallow fashion world.

Without saying another word, I set my glass down on the counter, turned around, and walked out of the kitchen.

I hurried up the grand staircase to the safety of my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed and pulled out my phone. Scrolling up through my text messages with "Blake," a soft, comforted smile spread across my face as I reread his warm, late-night messages from yesterday.

He was the only person who made me feel like I mattered. I squeezed my phone to my chest, closing my eyes as I waited eagerly for nightfall so I could talk to him again.

At seven o'clock, the heavy mahogany doors of the formal dining room were closed for dinner.

I sat quietly near the end of the long black table, picking at my grilled salmon. My mother sat across from Richard Hayes at the head of the table, sipping her white wine and laughing loudly at something he said.

"Oh, Richard, I simply can't wait!" my mother cooed, clasping her hands together. "A weekend getaway to the private island sounds like absolute perfection!"

Richard smiled warmly, setting his fork down. "It'll be good for us to get away for a few days, Victoria." He turned his gaze toward Jaxon and me, his tone growing stern. "While we are gone tomorrow, I expect you two to behave yourselves. Do not turn this house upside down with your relentless taunts and fighting."

Jaxon, who had been silently picking at his food the entire evening, suddenly froze.

He slowly looked up from his plate, his sharp gray eyes narrowing at his father. The air in the room instantly turned ice-cold.

"Are you serious, Dad?" Jaxon asked, his voice low, raspy, and dangerously sharp. "Have you honestly forgotten what tomorrow really is?"

Richard frowned, looking genuinely confused. "What are you talking about, Jaxon? Tomorrow is Friday."

A bitter, venomous laugh escaped Jaxon's throat. His knuckles turned white around his linen napkin. "Tomorrow is the anniversary of Mom's death. It’s the day we're supposed to go pay a visit to her grave."

Richard’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second, but he quickly smoothed his expression over, waving his hand dismissively. "Jaxon, please. It isn't that big of a deal. We can always visit her grave when I come back from vacation next week. After all... she isn't going anywhere."

The cruel indifference in Richard's voice made my stomach drop.

Jaxon snapped.

"Gosh, I hate you so much, Dad!" Jaxon roared, slamming his palms against the marble table so hard the crystal glasses rattled violently. He stood up, his broad chest heaving with furious, agonizing pain. "You don't care about her! You never cared!"

My mother quickly chimed in, putting on a sweet, peacemaking smile. "Oh, come on, Jaxon, it's really not that big of a deal—"

"Don't you dare call my name!" Jaxon spat at her, his voice full of lethal rage that made my mother flinch backward in terror. "Keep your fake mouth shut!"

I sat completely still in my seat, my heart aching in my chest.

I stayed silent, but deep down, I felt the heavy, crushing weight of Jaxon's pain. I knew that exact hollow feeling. I knew the agonizing torment of loving someone who was gone, only to watch the people around you move on like they never existed. For a single second, looking at the raw, broken fury in Jaxon's gray eyes, he didn't look like my cruel bully anymore. He just looked like a grieving, heartbroken boy.

Without another word, Jaxon turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining room, slamming the heavy wooden doors so hard the entire estate seemed to shake.

Hours later, the house was dead silent.

I lay in my bed in the dark, unable to sleep. My mind kept flickering back to the look of pure agony on Jaxon's face during dinner. Shaking the thought away, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. It was 11:30 PM.

I unlocked the screen, opening my chat with Blake. I needed to talk to him. I needed his warmth to drown out the heavy sadness hanging over this house.

[Secret Girl]: Hi handsome.

I waited a few seconds, staring at the screen. My fingers quickly typed out another message before I could lose my nerve.

[Secret Girl]: I saw you at school today. You look so handsome every single day, but today was no different. You were amazing.

I hit send and waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.

A cold wave of anxiety washed over my chest. He usually replied within seconds. Why wasn't he answering? Was he out partying with his friends? Was he with another girl? My mind raced with worried thoughts as I stared at the dark screen, gripping the phone tightly in my trembling hands.

Finally, after an agonizing thirty minutes, the phone vibrated in my palm.

I quickly flipped it over, my heart leaping into my throat as I opened the new message notification.

I stared at the single, cold word sitting on the screen. No flirtatious banter. No teasing nickname. Just one stiff, distant word that left me sitting alone in the dark, feeling more confused and anxious than ever.