Chapter 4: Forbidden Realities

Chapter 4 : Forbidden Realities

(Zara POV)

I didn’t go home.

That decision came to me somewhere between leaving Dominic’s building and sitting in the back seat of his car while the city blurred past the window. It wasn’t even a dramatic choice, just a quiet, tired realization settling in my chest. There was nothing waiting for me there except accusations, tension, and a version of myself I didn’t recognize anymore.

So when the driver asked for directions, I gave him Jane’s address instead.

The silence in the car felt different from the night before. It wasn’t heavy or charged. It was… reflective. Like everything that had happened was finally catching up to me now that there was nothing left to distract me.

I kept replaying it.

Ryan. Keisha. The door I should not have opened.

The party.

The way Dominic had looked at me.

And then everything that came after.

By the time the car pulled up in front of Jane’s place, my chest felt tight with something I didn’t want to name.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I stepped out.

The driver nodded politely and waited until I got to the door before pulling away.

I stood there for a second, staring at the handle, suddenly unsure of how to explain anything without actually explaining it. Then I knocked before I could overthink it.

Jane opened the door in a loose T-shirt and shorts, her hair messy, eyes half-lidded from sleep.

She blinked once.

Then twice.

“Oh,” she said slowly, stepping aside. “You look like you survived something questionable.”

I let out a quiet breath and walked in.

“I might have,” I said.

She shut the door behind me, watching me closely now, her expression sharpening.

“You didn’t come back last night,” she said. “I waited for you at the club, and then your phone—”

“Jane,” I cut in, a little too quickly. “Can you just… not ask?”

That stopped her.

Not because she wasn’t curious, but because she knew me well enough to hear the edge in my voice.

She studied me for a long second, then raised both hands slightly in surrender.

“Alright,” she said. “No questions. For now.”

Relief slipped through me, small but real.

I dropped my bag on the couch and sat down, suddenly aware of how exhausted I felt. Not just physically, but emotionally, like everything inside me had been wrung out and left to dry.

Jane didn’t say anything else. She just moved around the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it to me.

“Drink,” she said.

I caught it and opened it without arguing. For a while, neither of us spoke and that silence gave my thoughts too much room.

Because now that I wasn’t distracted, the reality of what I had done came rushing back in full force.

Dominic Hale.

Not just a stranger. Not just a man from a party.

Ryan’s father.

I pressed my lips together and reached into my bag before I could stop myself.

The business card was still there. Clean. Simple. White with black lettering.

His name and his number. Nothing else.

I stared at it longer than I meant to, my thumb brushing lightly over the edge like it might tell me something new if I looked hard enough.

“Okay,” Jane’s voice cut in, pulling me out of it. “Now I’m definitely asking.”

I glanced up. “What?”

She pointed at my hand. “What are you staring at like it personally offended you?”

I looked down at the card again, then quickly slipped it back into my bag.

“It’s nothing.”

Jane raised an eyebrow.

“Zara.”

“It’s really nothing,” I insisted, forcing a small shrug. “Just… something from last night.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push either.

“Fine,” she said. “Keep your secrets.”

I leaned back against the couch, closing my eyes briefly.

If only it were that simple.

---

Jane left for school a little while later, but not before hovering near the door like she was debating whether to stay.

“You’re not going to lectures?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Not today.”

She studied me for a moment, then sighed.

“Alright. But you owe me details later.”

“Maybe,” I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s the best you’re getting.”

She huffed but grabbed her bag anyway.

“Tell Clara I’ll finish the project by tomorrow,” I added as she opened the door.

Jane paused. “You sure you’re okay?”

The question was softer this time. Less teasing. More real.

I forced a small nod. “I will be.”

She didn’t look fully convinced, but she left it alone.

“Don’t disappear again,” she said before stepping out.

“I won’t.”

The door closed behind her, and the apartment fell quiet.

Too quiet.

I sat there for a long time, staring at nothing in particular, my mind drifting back to the same place over and over again.

His apartment.

The way he had looked at me like he already knew what I was going to do before I did and the way I had let him. I exhaled slowly and dragged a hand over my face.

“This is a mess,” I muttered to myself.

And the worst part was, I didn’t regret it the way I probably should have.

That thought unsettled me more than anything else.

---

By evening, I had no choice but to pull myself together.

Work didn’t care about emotional breakdowns or bad decisions. Bills still needed to be paid, and I couldn’t afford to lose the one thing keeping me afloat.

So I changed into my usual work clothes, tied my hair back, and headed to the bar.

The familiar environment helped more than I expected.

The noise.

The movement.

The constant distraction of people ordering drinks and talking over each other.

It gave my brain something else to focus on.

For a few hours, I managed to exist without thinking about Dominic Hale.

Until the end of my shift.

We were just about to close. I was wiping down the counter, half-listening to the low hum of conversation from the last few customers, when the door opened.

I didn’t look up immediately.

“Sorry, we’re closing,” I said automatically.

No response. Something about that silence made me glance up.

And then I froze.

Dominic.

He stood just inside the doorway, looking completely out of place and yet somehow like he belonged everywhere at once. His presence alone shifted the atmosphere of the room, subtle but undeniable.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then he walked in slowly like this was just another stop in his day. My heart started beating faster, but I forced my expression to stay neutral as I set the cloth down.

“What can I get you?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

His eyes held mine for a moment before he spoke.

“Whiskey,” he said simply.

I nodded and turned to pour it, grateful for the brief moment where I didn’t have to look at him.

But I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and intentional. When I placed the glass in front of him, I made the mistake of turning away too quickly.

His hand shot out and caught my wrist.

The contact sent a sharp awareness through me, and I sucked in a quiet breath.

“Wait,” he said.

I turned back slowly. Up close, his expression was harder to read than usual.

“Are you involved with my son?” he asked.

The question hit harder than I expected. Direct. No hesitation.

I held his gaze for a second, then nodded. “I was.”

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go completely.

“Explain.”

I swallowed.

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” I said quietly. “He cheated on me. With my half-sister.”

His jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly.

“She’s pregnant,” I added. “With his baby.”

A flicker of something crossed his eyes. Not surprise exactly, but not indifference either.

“And you?” he asked.

“I ended it,” I said. “So… he’s my ex.”

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, like I hadn’t fully processed them yet.

For a moment, he just looked at me. Then his hand dropped from my wrist. Silence stretched between us, thick with everything neither of us was saying.

Finally, he picked up his glass and took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine.

I see." His gaze dropped briefly before returning to mine. "You came to me knowing he was my son."

"He was my ex," I said. "There's a difference."

Something shifted in his expression. He looked at me for a long moment.

"I'll pretend last night never happened."

The words landed harder than they should have.

And yet something in my chest tightened in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

I nodded slowly, even though a part of me wasn’t entirely sure why that bothered me.

“Okay,” I said.

He held my gaze for a moment longer, like he was checking for something, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

He finished his drink without another word, set the glass down with quiet finality, and walked out, leaving me standing behind the counter as I watched his back disappear through the door, the silence he left behind settling heavier than before.

And just like that, the line had been drawn.

Or at least… that’s what we were both pretending.