Small world huh?

Viana's POV

I closed my locker softly, tracing my fingers along the frame one last time. That memory was the reason I didn’t waste time on distractions, why I stayed focused even when the world tried to shove boys like Alvin Monroe into my orbit.

Death had taught me something school couldn’t: every second mattered. And maybe that was why, deep down, I was grateful Mom and I had left our old town behind. A fresh start, a transfer, a chance to rebuild without shadows trailing us.

A new place with new rules and less chances of any form of mistakes. At least, that was the plan but unfortunately it went badly fast.

*********

I should’ve known something was up the moment Mom lit candles at the dinner table. She only did that for birthdays, special events or bad news. No one had died recently unless cousin Anny finally drank herself to death and it was close to winter season a time where we rarely had birthdays of people we cared about. Not that we didn't care about the rest, just not enough to light candles.

Her shoulders were too straight, her lipstick too bright and her eyes had that mischievous glow in them. Something was definitely off.

“Viana, can you come set the table, please?” she called from the kitchen, her tone sugared like she had eaten the jar of honey.

I dragged my feet into the dining room. Plates, napkins, polished silverware were all made ready, she’d gone all out. A platter of roasted chicken sat in the middle, lemon slices arranged like she was auditioning for a food magazine spread.

I arched a brow. “Are we expecting the mayor or something?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she said, though her hand fluttered nervously against her apron. “I just… wanted tonight to feel special.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion prickling at my nerves. Mom only used her “special” voice when she had news. The last time she used it, we moved halfway across the state and was stuck on a fourteen hour train drive to the Alps. If I didn't love her and was sure she loved me back, I would have called child services long ago.

The front door opened up and our attention went straight there.

“Here we are,” she said, practically glowing.

And in walked Alvin Monroe, for absolutely no reason.

I froze. My stomach dropped so fast I thought I might actually throw up right there on Mom’s perfect centerpiece.

Hockey bag slung over his shoulder, damp hair still sticking up from a shower, that same smug grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face. Of all people. Of all nightmares.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

Alvin leaned against the doorframe, his eyes raking me up and down like I was some kind of inside joke. “Wow,” he drawled. “Didn’t know I’d be running into you here. Small world, huh?”

“This isn’t small. This is… sick,” I snapped, glaring at Mom.

Her cheeks went crimson with shyness? Is the woman for real right now?“Viana, please. Sit down and let me explain.”

Behind Alvin, another man stepped in. Tall, broad, with graying hair slicked back and an expensive suit that screamed power—his father, Benson Monroe. He carried himself like someone who expected rooms to bow to him.

My pulse kicked and I heard a thunderclap in my head. This was worse than I thought.

Mom cleared her throat, eyes shining. “Sweetheart… this is Benson. Alvin’s father. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now and… well…” She smiled nervously, gripping Benson’s hand. “We’ve decided to get engaged.”

Engaged. The word sliced through the air, sharp as glass. I blinked once. And then I blinked again, wanting the current situation to be a trick of the light or a mere hallucination.

I stared at her. “You said what exactly? You are—.”

Her smile wavered. “We’re engaged. Benson proposed last week. And so I said yes.”

I blinked once. Blinked twice but my brain couldn’t even catch up to my mouth. “Engaged? As in—you’re marrying him? Which means—” I jabbed a finger in Alvin’s direction. “He’s—”

“Your stepbrother to be,” Alvin finished for me, glaring at his father obviously not too pleased with the arrangement as well. “Don’t worry, sis, I’ll try not to borrow your clothes.”

I nearly choked. “Stepbrother? No. No, no, no. Mom, this isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny,” she said softly, reaching for my hand. “I’m happy, Vi. Happier than I’ve been in years. Don’t you want that for me?”

I pulled back. My eyes cut to Alvin, who was busy glowering at the dinner table like he wanted it to get set on fire. “And you didn’t think to mention your son goes to my school? That he’s—he’s him?”

Benson spoke for the first time, his voice deep and commanding. “I expect this transition to go smoothly. Alvin is a hardworking boy. You’ll learn to get along.”

Alvin snorted. “Hardworking? Dad, let’s not scare her with lies on night one.”

His dad shot him a warning look, but he just shrugged, dragging out a chair and sitting like he owned the place.

I didn’t sit, my brain wouldn't have been able to process the command. My legs were too stiff, my blood too hot. “This is insane. You can’t just spring this on me.”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Mom said gently. “But Benson and I love each other, and I really think you and Alvin will—”

“Bond?” I cut in, my voice sharp. “Over what? His fan club? His arrogance? The way he walks around campus like he’s God’s gift to hockey?”

“Glad you noticed,” Alvin said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glittering with amusement.

My fists clenched so tight I felt my nails bite into my palms. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re uptight,” he shot back. “We’ll balance each other out.”

“Balance?” I barked out a laugh. “Try oil and water.”