Chapter Three

Aria’s POV.

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating softly against the nightstand. For a brief second, I didn’t want to move, my body felt so light, as if I had slept on clouds. But then I turned, still half tangled in my bedsheets, then I saw his name glowing across my screen.

“Mr Alexander.”

A small smile crept across my lips before I even opened the message.

“Good morning Aria, I hope you slept as beautifully as you looked last night.”

Just reading it sent those foolish flutters dancing in my stomach again. My heart betrayed me instantly beating faster than I wanted it to. I lay there, staring at his message, the memory of last night kept replaying in soft flashes: his laugh, the glint in his eyes when he smiled, the way he had listened to me as if every word I said mattered. It had been so long since someone looked at me like that, even while I was dating Ethan.

I pressed the phone against my chest and sighed, smiling at nothing in particular. Maybe, just maybe, something good was finally happening to me.

The smile didn’t last long.

Another notification buzzed on the screen, and the name that appeared froze me completely.

“Ethan.”

My throat tightened as I read the message.

“Baby can we talk please, I promise I can explain everything.”

For a long time, I just stared at it, my hands shaking a little, my heart caught somewhere between anger and pain. “Baby”. The word felt wrong now, almost offensive. I deleted the message without replying. I wasn’t doing this again. Not after everything I’d seen.

It was Saturday, so I didn’t have work. The house felt still, the kind of quiet that makes you too aware of your own thoughts. I threw myself into chores, anything to keep my mind busy. I swept, washed, reorganized drawers that didn’t even need organizing. But the silence was heavy, and no matter what I did, Ethan’s name kept echoing in my head.

Then the phone rang. His name again.

I pressed “end.”

It rang again.

And again.

By the third call, my patience snapped. I swiped the screen and put the phone to my ear.

“What do you want from me, Ethan?” My voice came out louder than I intended. “Stop calling me! Stop texting me! Just… just leave me alone!”

“Aria, baby please,” his voice rushed through the line, he sounded desperate. “Please, just hear me out. It wasn’t what you think”

“Oh, really?” I cut him off, my hands trembling. “Because what I think is that my best friend was naked in your arms in a hotel room that we reserved for our own date, so now you tell me, What exactly am I supposed to think, Ethan?”

There was silence on the line, just his uneven breathing.

“Aria, let’s talk this out, please. I love you.”

“Then you should’ve thought about that before betraying me!” I hissed, tears already burning my eyes. “Don’t ever call me again.”

I ended the call, blocked his number, and dropped the phone onto the couch. For a moment, I just stood there breathing hard, like I’d been running. Then I sat down, my chest felt heavy, and I let the tears fall.

By afternoon, I decided I needed air. I told Mom I was stepping out to pick up some groceries, just a short walk. The wind outside was soft, and I focused on the rhythm of my steps, on the sound of my sneakers brushing against the pavement. I was almost beginning to feel calm when I heard my name.

“Aria?”

I froze.

Harper.

She was standing a few feet away, her hair pinned up, wearing the same fake apologetic look I’d seen the last time. My chest tightened.

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly.

I laughed a small, bitter sound. “Talk? About what, Harper?”

“Aria, please. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but I need you to understand…”

“Understand what?” I snapped, taking a step forward. “That my best friend was sleeping with my boyfriend? That you betrayed me?”

She flinched. “It wasn’t like that, Aria. Things just happened. I didn’t mean for it to”

“Don’t,” I said, my voice sharp now. “Don’t insult me with that excuse. You meant for it to happen. Just stay away from me.”

Tears filled her eyes, but I turned away before they could sway me. I walked away, my heartbeat loud in my ears, anger and sadness twisting together until I couldn’t tell which hurt more.

When I got home, I dropped the grocery bag on the counter and sank into the couch beside Mom. She turned to me immediately, reading the pain in my face.

“You saw her,” she said quietly.

I nodded, and the tears I’d been holding back all afternoon finally broke free. “She’s not even sorry, Mom. She just… she stood there making excuses.”

Mom reached over and pulled me into her arms. “Then you stop carrying her guilt,” she whispered into my hair. “You let her go. People who can betray you like that aren’t worth holding onto.”

I nodded against her shoulder, sniffling. “I know. I just… it hurts mom.”

“I know, baby,” she murmured. “But it’ll pass. It always does.”

Later that evening, while I was sitting quietly in the living room, my phone rang again, this time, Alexander’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound cheerful.

But he caught it instantly. “You sound tired. Is everything alright?”

I hesitated. “I’m fine. Just a long day.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said gently, “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

I smiled weakly. “No, really. You don’t need to bother yourself.”

“Aria,” he said, his tone deepening slightly, “talk to me.”

Something about the way he said my name always disarmed me. We ended up talking for nearly an hour, about small things, random things. His humor caught me off guard more than once, and somewhere between his teasing and his calm, confident voice, I found myself laughing again.

When we hung up, I realized I was smiling. He did make me feel better.

The next day, he called again this time, to ask if I’d like to go out.

“I don’t want a fancy date,” I told him before he could finish. “No restaurants. I just… want to take a walk. Just the two of us.”

There was a pause, and then a quiet chuckle. “A walk it is.”

The afternoon sun painted everything gold as we strolled through the park. He wore a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his watch shining in the light. He looked effortlessly composed, like a man who didn’t need to try to command attention. His scent drifted toward me with every step, crisp, masculine, and intoxicating.

We talked. About work, about random observations, about life. Then, somewhere between the laughter and the silence, he asked softly, “So, will you tell me why you were crying that day in the elevator?”

I hesitated. But something in his tone, the genuine concern and the patience, made it easy to open up. “Well, my ex-boyfriend and I planned a romantic date in that hotel, and on getting there I caught him in bed with my best friend or ex-best friend I guess.”

He said quietly, “ That must have been tough, I’m so sorry you went through that.”

I smiled faintly. “I’ll be fine. I’m getting better.”

He nodded, then gestured toward a café nearby. “Come on. Let’s grab something to eat.” I noticed that a huge man who seemed like his bodyguard was walking behind us, he kept his distance but one could still tell that he was some sort of security.

We sat by the window, the late sunlight spilling between us. The conversation came easy, laughter slipped through the cracks of my sadness, and I caught myself enjoying the way he smiled when he looked at me. It felt simple, natural, like breathing again after being underwater for too long.

Monday came with chaos. Work was busy, and I was buried in paperwork when the commotion started outside my office. There were voices that sounded loud, angry and familiar.

Before I could even stand, Ethan stormed in.

“Aria, please,” he started, ignoring the stunned faces of my colleagues. “We need to talk.”

“Get out,” I said coldly.

He took a step closer. “It was one mistake, Aria! Can’t you just forgive me?”

“One mistake?” I repeated, my voice shaking. “You slept with my best friend, Ethan. That’s not a mistake, that’s a choice.”

He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Get out before I call security.”

By the time he left, my coworkers were whispering, and my hands were trembling. I held myself together until I got home.

That night, while Mom and I sat sharing a snack in the living room, there was a knock at the door.

I opened it and froze.

“Harper,” I said disappointed.

She looked nervous. “Please, can we talk? Just five minutes.”

Mom stood, she gave me a knowing look, and quietly left us alone.

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” I said, folding my arms.

“I came to apologize to you,” Harper started, but then her voice shifted, something sharp hiding behind her tone. “But you know what, Aria? Maybe it’s better this way.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled bitterly. “Ethan was never yours. He was always mine. You just got in the way, like you always do.”

The words sliced through me. For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe.

“You’re pathetic,” I whispered finally. “You betrayed me and you’re proud of it? I trusted you, I took you as my sister, my mom welcomed you into my home” I said shaking.

Her eyes flashed. “You had everything handed to you, Aria. The job. The attention. The love. You never noticed how people looked at you. Maybe now you’ll understand what it feels like.”

“Get out,” I said quietly, pointing to the door.

She laughed once, hollow and ugly, then walked out without looking back.

When she was gone, I sank into the couch, shaking. Mom came over silently and wrapped her arms around me.

“She’s not worth your tears,” she murmured. “Let her drown in her own bitterness.”

The next morning, I met Alexander for breakfast. He’d insisted. “You need a distraction,” he said on the phone, and somehow, I didn’t argue.

It was my favorite café, it was cozy and sunlight was spilling over polished wood. I must’ve looked exhausted because he studied me with concern.

“Rough night huh?” he asked.

“You could say that,” I muttered, stirring my coffee. “I just found out my best friend of ten years has been jealous of me all along.”

He frowned slightly. “People envy what they can’t understand. But you’ll learn to stop carrying their shadows.”

I smiled faintly, grateful for his words.

Then, after a pause, he said softly, “I know you’re healing, Aria. And I know this might sound soon, but… I want to be honest with you. I’m interested in getting to know you more. I want to build something real with you. Slowly, carefully but real.”

His words caught me off guard. My heart fluttered again, that same warmth spreading in my chest. I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at him, really looked at him and nodded.

After breakfast, he surprised me. “Come with me,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

His home took my breath away.

The mansion stood behind tall wrought-iron gates, surrounded by manicured gardens and a fountain that shimmered in the sunlight. The walls were glass and stone, elegant and quiet. Inside, everything gleamed, marble floors, art-lined halls, soft golden light. It didn’t feel cold, though. It felt… alive. I couldn’t help but wonder how many rooms the mansion contained.

“This is where you live?” I whispered.

He smiled. “It’s home.”

We sat in the living room with glasses of champagne. I laughed at something he said, but when I lifted my glass, the rim slipped slightly, and the golden liquid spilled across my dress.

“Oh my God,” I gasped.

He stood immediately, concern flashing across his face. “I’m so sorry. Come on, I’ll get you something to change into.”

He led me upstairs to a room, large, soft-toned, smelling faintly of cedar. He handed me one of his shirts, crisp, white, and far too big but I thanked him and went to change.

When I stepped out, the fabric brushed my thighs lightly, his scent wrapping around me like a whisper. He turned and froze.

For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. His eyes softened, his jaw tightening just slightly as if he were fighting the urge to say something.

“You’re beautiful,” he said finally, his voice became quiet, rougher than before.

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “It’s just your shirt.”

“No I’m pretty sure it’s you,” he murmured.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. The air between us shifted, heavier, charged. My breath caught as he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a little too long against my skin. My heart was a wild drum in my chest.

“Alexander…” I whispered, but it came out like a plea.

He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to my lips, and before I could think, he closed the distance between us. His hand slid gently along my waist, drawing me closer. Our breaths mingled, the world shrinking until there was only the two of us. Then his lips met mine.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, searching as though he wanted a permission then deeper, fuller, as though we both forgot where we ended and the other began. His hand traced the curve of my back, and my fingers tangled in his hair. The air around us felt alive, pulsing.

Then

There was a knock on the door.

We froze, breathless, our foreheads still touching.

“Sir,” a voice called from the other side. “Your son is here to see you.”

The expression on Alexander’s face was disappointment then he straightened, still trying to catch his breath. “I’ll be with him shortly,” he called back, his tone suddenly composed again.

I stepped back, flushed, trying to fix his shirt around me. The silence between us was charged, awkward, and full of everything we didn’t say.

He cleared his throat gently. “I guess it’s time I introduce you to my son.”

My stomach twisted, nerves and something else.i thought about how meeting his son for the first time would be because I was wearing his father’s shirt.

I followed him down the grand staircase, still wearing his shirt, clutching the fabric like armor. As we reached the landing, I saw a man standing in the foyer, tall, familiar, his back turned.

And then he turned around.

My breath caught.

“Ethan?” I whispered.

His eyes widened. “Aria?”

Alexander turned between us, confusion flickering in his eyes.