MY BEST FRIEND DAD (1)

CLARA POV

The water is colder than I expected.

I step in slowly, one foot at a time, my breath catching as the chill climbs up my legs, wraps around my waist, then settles into my chest like something heavy. For a second, I just stand there, letting it soak into me, hoping it numbs something deeper.

It doesn’t.

“Are you planning to swim or just stand there and suffer dramatically?”

Maya’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I glance up and see her already floating, completely relaxed, like she doesn’t have a single problem in the world. Her curls spread across the water, her arms stretched out like she belongs here.

I huff softly and move forward, letting the water close around me. “It’s cold.”

“It’s a pool, Clara, not a spa,” she shoots back, flipping upright and pushing her hair away from her face. “Come on.”

I swim toward her, slower than usual, my body feeling heavier than it should. When I reach the edge, I hold onto it, my arms resting against the tiles, my chin just above the surface.

For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. I wish that silence could fix things but it doesn’t.

“You still look like you’re about to cry,” Maya says, softer this time.

“I’m not.”

“You say that, but your face doesn't agree with you.”

I let out a breath, my fingers tightening slightly against the edge. “I just… didn’t expect it.”

Maya frowns. “Clara, he cheated. There’s nothing to ‘expect.’ He’s just trash.”

“It wasn’t just cheating,” I mutter. “It’s how long it was going on. Everyone knew except me.”

That part stings the most the fact that not just him, everyone knew.

Maya’s expression shifts, something sharper replacing the teasing. She moves closer, her shoulder brushing mine.

“That’s not on you,” she says. “That’s on them.”

I shake my head slightly. “I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You trusted someone. That’s normal.”

“It doesn’t feel normal.” My voice comes out quieter than I intended. “It feels like I missed something obvious.”

Maya leans back slightly, studying me. “You didn’t miss anything. He hid it. There’s a difference.”

I don’t respond.

Because part of me still feels like I should have known.

The water moves gently around us, small ripples spreading as I shift slightly. My skin has adjusted to the cold now, but inside, everything still feels tight.

“I hate that I still think about him,” I admit after a moment.

Maya snorts. “Of course you do. You dated him for how long?”

“Two years.”

“Exactly. You don’t just switch that off like a light.”

I look down at the water, watching the way it distorts my reflection. “I keep replaying things. Conversations. Moments. Trying to figure out when it started.”

“And?”

“I don’t know.” I swallow slightly. “That’s the worst part.”

Maya exhales, then gently bumps my shoulder. “Stop doing that to yourself.”

“I can’t just stop thinking.”

“You can stop overthinking.” She gives me a pointed look. “There’s a difference.”

I don’t argue, but I don’t agree either.

The truth is, my mind keeps going back to him no matter how much I try to push it away. The way he smiled. The way he used to look at me like I mattered.

Now it all feels fake.

“I just feel…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Empty.”

Maya’s expression softens. “That part will pass.”

“When?”

She shrugs lightly. “When you stop giving him space in your head.”

I let out a quiet breath. “Easier said than done.”

“Everything is,” she replies.

For a moment, we just float there, the conversation fading into silence again. The sun reflects off the water, casting soft patterns across our skin. It should feel peaceful.

It doesn’t.

“I’m serious, though,” Maya adds after a while. “You’re better off without him.”

“I know that,” I say. “It just doesn’t feel like it yet.”

“That’s because your heart hasn’t caught up with your brain.”

I glance at her. “Since when did you become wise?”

She grins. “I’ve always been wise. You just don’t listen.”

I roll my eyes slightly, but a small smile pulls at my lips.

It fades quickly.

“I just don’t want to feel like this anymore,” I admit.

Maya’s gaze lingers on me for a second before she nods slowly. “You won’t. It just takes time.”

“I’m going to grab something from inside,” she suddenly says, pushing herself away from the edge. “You want a drink?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself.” She moves toward the steps, water dripping from her as she climbs out. “Don’t drown in your thoughts while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try,” I mumble.

She laughs lightly before disappearing inside, leaving the door slightly open behind her.

I lean back against the edge, letting the water carry some of my weight. My eyes close for a moment as I try to breathe through the tight feeling in my chest.

Why does it still hurt this much?

I thought breaking up would make it better.

Instead, it just made everything louder.

A soft sound pulled me out of my thoughts as the door clicks open.

I open my eyes slightly, expecting Maya to come back out. But it’s not her.

It’s him. Maya’s father.

He steps outside casually, like he’s done it a hundred times before, his presence immediately shifting the air around me. My body straightens slightly without thinking, my fingers tightening against the edge of the pool.

I’ve always noticed him.

The way he carries himself. The quiet confidence. The calm in his movements.

And the way he looks at people like he understands more than he says.

His gaze lands on me.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then he steps closer.

“You’re still out here alone?” His voice is calm, steady.

I swallow slightly. “Yeah. Maya just went inside.”

He nods, glancing toward the house briefly before looking back at me.

“You don’t look okay.”

I let out a small breath, my shoulders sinking slightly. “I just… had a breakup.”

He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable but not cold.

“I see.”

I look away, suddenly aware of myself. Of how I look. Of how I feel.

“I thought coming here would help,” I admit quietly. “But it didn’t.”

He doesn’t respond immediately.

Instead, he steps down into the pool.

The water moves around him as he gets in, the ripples reaching me a second later. My breath catches slightly, my body tensing without meaning to.

“Sometimes distractions don’t work,” he says. “Not the kind you’re trying to use.”

I glance at him, unsure what to say.

“Then what does?” I ask.

His gaze holds mine for a moment longer than necessary.

“Something stronger,” he replies quietly.

The space between us feels smaller now, even though he hasn’t moved.

“I just want it to stop hurting,” I admit, my voice softer now.

His expression shifts slightly, not pity but something else.

“I can take that away,” he says.

The words settle into the air between us.

Heavy.

“You can?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t look away.

“I can take away all the sadness your boyfriend caused.”