Semua Bab Reclaiming Aria : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Marlene’s POV The bus rumbled to a stop, brakes hissing like a sigh. Marlene stared out the window at the sleepy town square, heart thudding like it was trying to escape her chest. The place hadn’t changed much. The benches were still crooked. The lampposts still leaned. And yet, everything felt… sharper. Brighter. Like returning to a dream after years of waking. She stepped down, her worn boots meeting familiar pavement. The breeze carried the scent of lilacs and old brick and that faint sweetness from the bakery a block over. She nearly buckled under it. Her suitcase thumped behind her, but she couldn’t move yet. A couple passed her, hand in hand, laughing softly. Marlene swallowed. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. It was time. She turned down Maple, her eyes catching on the grand building that towered at the end of the block—three stories tall, all glass and brick and pride. Aria built that. Her daughter. The girl she hadn’t held in years. A lump cau

Tanya grew up on the fringes of Calloway Hollow. Not one of the golden kids. Definitely not invited to the barn parties or Sunday brunches. She worked her way through school, bussing tables at her aunt’s diner since she was sixteen. And Mason? He was one of the only “elites” who ever really looked at her. Flirted. Called her “T.” Asked about her life. He saw her. Or so she thought. Tanya’s been a waitress at Millie’s Diner since she was sixteen—sweet smile, sharp tongue, and the kind of sass that made her tips double. Everybody knew her. Not Everybody liked her some just tolerated her. But Mason? He noticed her. He made her feel seen. Sexy. Chosen. It started slow. Harmless. It started casual. A coffee refill with a wink. A hand brushing a little too low when she passed him his check. Then he started showing up after close—offering help with chairs, whispering flirty shit like “You deserve better than this greasy spoon, Tanya.” She was between breakups, tired, lonely, working

The Calloway Hollow Public Library had never looked so grand. For one night only, the usually quiet, creaky old space had been transformed into something that belonged in a lifestyle magazine. The conference room, typically reserved for book clubs and school board meetings, was decked out in faux opulence—cascading ivory linens, gold-rimmed glassware, and tall floral centerpieces in muted autumn tones: burnt sienna, blush, and creamy whites. Strings of warm fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling beams, casting a soft glow over everything and everyone. Outside, under a white marquee tent stretching into the garden courtyard, the scent of catered hors d’oeuvres drifted in the air—mini crab cakes, prosciutto-wrapped dates, and honey-drizzled brie bites. Wine flowed. Laughter rose in polished crescendos. The out-of-towners in tailored suits and cocktail dresses mingled with long-time locals dressed in their Sunday best, most of them trading polite smiles and harmless gossip. At the main

Aria and Sloane moved fast, heels clicking against the tile as they weaved through the murmuring crowd. Tanya’s scream still echoed, ripping through the air like a warning shot. They found her near the entryway, backed into a corner by whispers and wandering stares. Her mascara streaked down her face, her body heaving, trying and failing to breathe. “Tanya,” Aria said gently, reaching out. Tanya’s head snapped up. “He—he said I was different,” she sobbed. “He said I mattered! I didn’t know— I didn’t know he had kids. I didn’t know there were others. I—I thought…” She couldn’t finish. Her words fell apart in a fit of tears, a hand clutched over her mouth like it could hold the pain in. Sloane wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Breathe, babe. Just breathe. We’re right here.” And then—movement. Aria turned her head just as a quiet hush swept over the immediate space. Brielle walked calmly, one boy tucked into her arm, his thumb in his mouth, sleepy but watching everything

Mason charges into the main hall, his shirt half-tucked, belt clinking against his hip, breath wild but face—fake calm. That snake-slick smirk plastered on, trying to regain control. Trying to play the good guy. He grabs Aria’s arm—tight, but not enough to bruise. Not here. Not yet. “Aria, baby, listen—whatever you think you saw, it’s not what it looked like,” he hisses, voice smooth like poison. “You caught me in a moment, okay? You and I—we’re real. You know that.” But she’s not the soft little thing he’s used to. Not tonight. Before she can speak, he leans in. “We’ve built a life. You don’t just throw that away over one mistake. You’re not that kind of girl, Aria. You’re—mine.” Then Kade steps closer from the edge of the room. Just close enough to be known. Just enough to rattle Mason’s barely-kept cool. Mason’s jaw ticks. “Oh, so this is about him? You think he’s better than me?” Aria’s eyes narrow. Mason sees it—the look that says you’re done. So he panics. Mason’