Chapter Five—Nova

The afternoon was cool, the kind of lazy warmth that made the air heavy with silence. A faint breeze slipped through the open window, carrying the smell of cut grass and the distant laughter of kids somewhere down the street. A car honked—sharp, impatient—and a dog barked in reply, as though the world refused to stay peaceful for too long.

And here I was, lying on my bed, chewing on regret.

I had made a stupidly rash decision. Nothing new there. Except this time, my impulsiveness had landed me in the orbit of the one man I’d always found annoyingly arrogant—yet, annoyingly attractive. Adrian Castellane.

“She’s mine.”

The words he’d thrown at his brother over brunch replayed in my head. Ridiculous, reckless words. But the memory of them sent a tiny shiver down my spine, as if my body hadn’t gotten the memo that I was supposed to hate him.

Before I could decide whether to groan or scream into my pillow, my bedroom door slammed open.

“Yo, yo, yo!”

Ariana Chan, my favorite cousin and resident chaos queen, barged in grinning like a psychopath.

“There’s this thing called knocking,” I muttered, glaring.

“Yeah, and I don’t give a damn.” She threw herself onto my bed with enough force to bounce me half off the mattress. Vanilla perfume and trouble filled the room in equal measure.

“Remind me to take the spare key from you,” I said, lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

“Whatever.” She shrugged like she’d just won a small war. “Anyways, where’s your mom? Didn’t see her when I came in.”

I shrugged again, though the dull ache in my chest flared. “I don’t know. She’s probably not at The Big Wing—she doesn’t work Saturdays.”

“Oh.”

Eudora Ashton. My mother. A single parent who left before sunrise and came home after midnight, so busy holding life together that she barely noticed mine. We rarely talked. Rarely connected. I was used to her absence—too used. The absence of both parents had shaped me into someone who hated silence but craved belonging.

“So…” I cleared my throat, desperate to push away the ache. “Why are you here?”

“Bored.” Ariana smirked, mischief lighting her golden-brown eyes. “Then I remembered I had a little cousin with fresh gossip to spill. And yes, babe, I came for the tea.”

“What tea? Green? Chamomile?” I scoffed, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb. You took my car to brunch at the Castellanes’.”

I groaned and collapsed back on the bed. “Kill me now.”

“Not before you spill.”

I didn’t want to talk about Adrian, about fake dating, about revenge. Not when I couldn’t even decide if I wanted to keep playing this dangerous game or just cut my losses and move on. Not when I’d realized how much I enjoyed getting under Adrian’s skin—which was not supposed to be enjoyable.

But Ariana was Ariana. She’d stayed beside me when others drifted. Even when I messed everything up, she held me together. So, I told her everything. Every detail, every conflicted thought.

When I finished, she lay sprawled across my bed, staring at me like I was the idiot she loved most.

“Well,” she said finally, smirk tugging at her lips. “Adrian Castellane is hot enough to make any woman indecisive.”

“Fuck you.”

“Facts.”

Yes, Adrian was hot. Maybe even drop-dead gorgeous. But that didn’t matter. Two reasons:

One, he was too old for me. Ten years was a canyon of an age gap.

And two, he was Adrian Castellane—the arrogant son of a bitch who had once humiliated me.

“That would be incest,” Ariana teased, breaking into laughter.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes, then sighed. “So what do you think?”

“It’s up to you, Nova.” For once her tone softened, almost serious. “Personally? I want Bruno to pay for what he did. But I don’t want you to lose yourself either. You’re already falling behind with school and…”

“Can we not?” I snapped, harsher than intended.

The reminder of how badly I was failing—academics, friendships, everything—was a bruise I didn’t need pressed right now.

Ariana’s smile flickered, then returned gently. “Fine. Look, do whatever makes you happy. If you wanna fake-date Adrian, fine. If you wanna fuck Adrian, also fine…”

“Oh God, stop.” My stomach churned.

She grinned wickedly. “See? You’re already thinking about it.”

“Ew.” I tossed a pillow at her face.

She caught it easily, cackling. “Whatever. My point is don’t do it for Bruno. Do it for you.”

“Enough already,” I groaned.

“I’m starving. I’m raiding your fridge.” With that, she hopped off the bed and strutted out, still laughing.

The room fell quiet again, but her warmth lingered. Ariana wasn’t just my cousin—she was my safe place. The one constant in a life where people always seemed to leave.

And she was right. I couldn’t lose myself in this. But Bruno had to pay. He had to feel rejection the way I had.

As for Adrian? I wouldn’t let his smooth arrogance cloud my judgment. He was just a tool.

A tool who could turn my knees to jelly with a single look.