CHAPTER 3

ZENDAYA'S POV

Malachi stood in the doorway, and I couldn't breathe.

Four years. It had been four years since I'd last seen him, since that night in college that I'd tried so hard to forget. But looking at him now, I realized I hadn't forgotten a single detail.

He'd changed. His shoulders were broader, his jaw sharper, his dark hair styled differently—more mature, more sophisticated. The boy I'd known had become a man. But his eyes were the same. Those intense, dark eyes that had always seen too much, understood too much.

And right now, they were fixed on me with an expression that made my heart race.

"Zendaya," he said, and I hated how my name sounded on his lips. Hated how it made me feel things I had no business feeling, not now, not after everything with Derek.

"Malachi," I managed to respond, my voice barely above a whisper.

Adrian looked between us, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Oh, I forgot to mention—Mal's back from Europe. He finished his business degree at Cambridge and now he's taking over his father's company."

"Congratulations," I said mechanically, still unable to look away from Malachi.

"Thanks," Malachi replied, his eyes never leaving mine either.

Adrian walked over to the bar cart, pouring himself a drink. "He's staying here for the next three days while he apartment hunts. I know I should have asked first, but honestly, I forgot he was coming today until he texted me this morning."

Three days. Three days under the same roof as the man I'd been running from for four years.

"I'm sorry to put you both through this," Adrian continued with an apologetic laugh. "I know you two have never really gotten along. All that bickering and arguing whenever you're in the same room—God, it's exhausting sometimes. But it's just three days. Try not to kill each other, yeah?"

If only Adrian knew the truth. If only he understood that the "bickering" and "arguing" had always been something else entirely. Sexual tension we couldn't act on. Desire we couldn't acknowledge. A pull toward each other that we'd both fought against because we knew Adrian would never approve.

My mind drifted back, unbidden, to that night four years ago...

*The party had been at Marcus Chen's off-campus house. I'd been a sophomore, Malachi a senior about to graduate. Adrian had been there too, but he'd left early for some emergency student council meeting, making me promise to get a ride home with someone safe.

I'd had too much to drink. So had Malachi. We'd ended up on the back porch, away from the noise and the crowd, just talking. About life, about dreams, about all the things we never said when Adrian was around.

————

"What if I don't care what Adrian thinks?" I'd asked.

Malachi's eyes had darkened. "Don't say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes it harder to stay away from you."

And then somehow we were kissing, and everything else stopped mattering. We'd stumbled upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms, barely making it through the door before our clothes started coming off.*

That night had been everything. Perfect and terrifying and so intense it scared me.

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight streaming through the unfamiliar window, Malachi was still asleep beside me. His arm was draped over my waist, his breathing deep and even.

And panic hit me like a freight train.

What had I done? Adrian would never forgive us. He'd made it clear—so clear—that this was the one thing he couldn't handle. If he found out, he'd lose his best friend. The person who'd been there for him when our mother died, when our father threw himself into work and left Adrian to grieve alone.

I couldn't do that to my brother. I couldn't be the reason he lost Malachi.

So I'd slipped out of bed, gathered my clothes, and left before Malachi woke up. I'd avoided him for the next two weeks until he graduated and left for Europe.

And I'd tried to convince myself it had been a mistake. A drunken error in judgment that meant nothing.

---

"Zendaya? Did you hear me?"

Adrian's voice snapped me back to the present. I blinked, realizing both men were staring at me.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said I'm going upstairs to make some calls about transitioning you back into the CEO role," Adrian repeated. "I'll leave you two alone. Try not to argue too much, okay?"

He left before either of us could respond, his footsteps fading up the stairs.

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket.

Malachi moved further into the living room, but he didn't sit. He stood a few feet away from my wheelchair, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"So," he said finally. "Four years."

"Four years," I echoed.

"Did you ever think about me?"

The question caught me off guard. It was so direct, so honest, so completely unlike the careful distance we'd always maintained around Adrian.

"Malachi—"

"Because I thought about you," he continued, taking a step closer. "Every day for four years, Zendaya. I thought about that night. About waking up and finding you gone. About coming back to visit Adrian and hearing that you were engaged to some guy named Derek."

My chest tightened. "Malachi, don't—"

"Don't what? Don't tell you the truth?" He moved closer still, and I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. "I spent four years trying to forget you. Trying to move on. And then Adrian calls me last week and tells me you're staying at his place, and suddenly I can't think about anything else."

"Stop," I said, my voice firmer now. "Just stop."

"Why?"

"Because that night was a mistake!" The words came out harsher than I intended, but I couldn't take them back now. "We were drunk. We weren't thinking clearly. It never should have happened."

Something flickered across Malachi's face—hurt, maybe, or anger. "A mistake."

"Yes," I said, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "A mistake we both need to forget. Adrian has made it very clear how he feels about... about us. About anything happening between us. And I'm not going to be the reason you lose your best friend."

"So that's it?" Malachi asked, his voice low. "That's why you left that morning? Why you avoided me? Because you were worried about Adrian?"

"He's my brother," I said. "And you're the most important person in his life besides me. I won't let out bad judgement ruin his friendshio with you.

"Bad judgment," Malachi repeated, and now I could definitely hear the anger in his voice. "Is that really what you think it was?"

"What else would I call it?" I challenged, even as my heart screamed that I was lying. "We were drunk, Malachi. We made a mistake. And now we need to move on and pretend it never happened."

"Like you moved on with Derek?"

The name hit me like a slap. "That's not fair."

"None of this is fair," Malachi shot back. "But at least I'm being honest about it. At least I'm not pretending I don't feel—" He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Don't feel what?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

Malachi looked at me for a long moment, his jaw tight. Then he shook his head. "Nothing. You're right. That night was a mistake. We'll just go back to how things were before—arguing and bickering and barely tolerating each other. For Adrian's sake."

He turned to leave, heading for the stairs.

"Malachi—"

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "About Derek. About all of it."

"Yeah," Malachi said, his voice hollow. "Me too."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone in my wheelchair with the weight of my lies and the memory of the only night I'd ever felt truly alive.