A special visitor.

ARMAN

“You’re mad at me.” I pulled Zoe to face me. Her face wasn’t expressive, but her eyes were, they had all kinds of sparkles that told of different things, it was a beauty to watch.

She shook her head, “I’m fine.” I knew she wasn’t.

“I’m sorry.” I pleaded.

“You don’t even know why I’m mad!” Zoe lashed out, finally, her face betraying her anger. Still, she remained pretty. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why are you mad?” I asked, trying to understand, it was hard to see beyond her beauty. It was harder to believe that she didn’t know everyone saw her the way I did.

“I said I’m fine.” She stood up, wanting to leave my hold.

I let her go for a moment, only to pull her back and capture her between my legs. “Tell me what I did wrong.” I pleaded.

Zoe was beautiful and mine, it was almost hard to believe I could touch her if I wanted to. I wanted to. I trailed kisses up her shoulder. “Don’t do that.” But the anger was leaving her voice.

It was hard to believe, but my girl liked physical touch.

“Then talk to me.”

The buzz of the doorbell interrupted whatever she was about to say.

Zoe raised a brow. Her eyes said, *“Expecting anyone?”*

“I’m not expecting anyone.” I muttered, my hands lingering on her waist for a fraction of a second longer than they should have before I reluctantly let her go.

Zoe stepped back, smoothing down the short red dress. The sharp, clinical anger that had just been flashing in her eyes softened into a quiet curiosity. I walked down the grand hallway toward the front door, the heavy silence of the estate making the second ring of the doorbell echo uncomfortably. No one from my agency was supposed to have this address yet; M.J. and Bridget had been incredibly strict about keeping my post-coma recovery entirely off the grid.

I unlocked the massive mahogany door and pulled it open.

Standing on the threshold was a couple dressed in effortless, high-fashion resort wear. The woman wore an oversized sun hat, large designer sunglasses, and a vibrant silk scarf that fluttered behind her. The man beside her stood with his hands casually shoved into the pockets of a pristine linen suit, his expression entirely vacant.

A sudden, sharp headache spiked behind my eyes. My conscious memory was still a blank slate but the recognition was instant. The memories I had been pushing came rushing back. Memories of these two.

“Oh, my darling boy!” the woman squealed, her voice incredibly high-pitched and bubbly. She didn't wait for an invitation. She burst past me into the foyer, bringing a suffocating cloud of expensive perfume with her.

She threw her arms around me, but it didn't feel like a mother wrapping up her son who had just survived a near-fatal accident. It felt theatrical, like she was in a movie. She patted my back twice before pulling away to inspect my face, her smile perfectly bright and empty.

“Look at you! You look absolutely marvelous,” she gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders. “The media made it sound like you were at death's door, but your skin is absolutely radiant! Arjun, doesn't his skin look radiant?”

The man, Arjun, stepped inside and casually closed the door behind him. He gave me a brief, nonchalant nod, his eyes scanning the architecture of the ceiling rather than looking at my face. “Yeah. Good,” he muttered, his voice flat and completely indifferent. Without another word, he drifted past me toward the living room like a tourist checking into a hotel room.

“Mom? Dad?” The words felt heavy and foreign on my tongue. I stared at them, a hollow ache expanding in my chest.

“Of course it's us, silly!” Sonia Moore laughed, waving a manicured hand dismissively. She suddenly spotted Zoe standing near the edge of the hallway, and her eyes lit up with a sharp, artificial spark. “Oh! And you must be the lovely Zoe! The little actress everyone online is talking about.” There was something sharp in her tone, it took me back to when I was five and listening to my mom snap and curse at her rivals. Did she see Zoe as a rival?

instinctively, I put myself as a wedge between Zoe and Sonia.

To my surprise, Zoe moved, passing me and going to my mom's arms, "You're Arman's mom? oh my goodness, you're so beautiful!" she exclaimed.

Sonia drank the praises greedily, she patted Zoe's hair like she was putting the strands back in place, With her other hand, she whipped out a sleek, gold-cased smartphone.

“Quick, darling, smile for the lens! The lighting in this foyer is simply divine,” Sonia cheered, holding the phone up at a high angle.

*Clack. Clack. Clack.*

The camera shutter went off three times in rapid succession. Zoe tilted her head, offering a polite, slightly reserved smile for the camera, entirely unsuspecting of the selfishness behind the gesture.

“Perfect! The engagement on this is going to be absolutely massive,” Sonia hummed, her thumbs flying across the screen as she immediately began typing a caption. “Everyone has been dying for a golden boy update.”

I stepped between them, my jaw tight, gently but firmly pulling my mother’s attention away from my girl. “Mom, stop. Why are you here?”