Chapter 370: Worry
ARIA
I watched him from the window until the car disappeared around the corner.
One blink, and he was gone.
Just like that.
It was strange how easily the morning folded in on itself, as if the last eighteen hours had been some fever dream stitched out of heat and breath and touch. The bed still smelled like him, my skin still bore the proof of him, and yet watching that taillight vanish felt like waking up from something that had never really happened.
I stayed there too long, one hand braced against the glass, waiting for the ache in my chest to even out.
"Hey," Sarah said softly behind me. Her hand found my shoulder, gentle but insistent, her thumb brushing a small circle against my shirt. "You’re doing that thing again—thinking too hard."
I forced a small laugh, turning back to her. "Maybe I am."
"Come on," she said, tugging lightly at my arm. "You’ll go crazy staring out the window. Sit down, eat something before it gets cold."
The table was a mess of containers, spilled sauce, open boxes, the comforting smell of too much food. Sarah pushed one toward me and cracked a joke about how she’d overestimated my appetite. I smiled, tried to let the normalcy take over. Bit by bit, it did.
We talked. We ate. She made me laugh.
The tension in my shoulders loosened, and for a while it almost felt like before, like the nights we used to spend sprawled on the floor, gossiping, pretending life wasn’t as complicated as it was.
Somewhere between the noodles and the dumplings, she looked at me and said, "You don’t have to look so sad, you know. If he’s really yours, he’ll come back."
I poked at my food, frowning. "It’s not that. It’s just... he’s so distant sometimes. One minute he’s right there with me, the next he’s somewhere else entirely. Like he’s shutting doors I can’t even see."
Sarah’s tone softened. "You don’t need that, Aria. You don’t need someone who keeps you guessing."
I looked up, surprised. "He doesn’t mean to. He’s just... complicated."
"Complicated is one thing," she said quietly, "but secrets are another."
I laughed, trying to shrug it off. "He’s not hiding anything from me."
Her eyes held mine a little too steadily. "Are you sure? Does he tell you everything?"
I opened my mouth to answer and stopped. Images flickered: the panic on his face the morning his father collapsed, the way he’d clutched his phone, that message I’d seen and never dared to ask about.
My silence stretched too long.
Sarah tilted her head, the faintest sigh slipping through her smile. "See? That’s what I mean. You know the part of him he lets you see. But maybe you don’t really know who he is."
The words sat between us, quiet and sharp.
I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but the longer I sat there, the harder it was to find the right words.
So I just stared at the steam curling from the food and told myself that Sarah didn’t mean anything by it.
That she was just looking out for me.
That she always did.
Sarah smiled, reaching across the table to refill my glass of water, her voice gentle again. "I didn’t mean to upset you, Aria. I just... worry. You’ve always trusted too easily."
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
Sarah went quiet for a few seconds, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers like she was thinking through something she wasn’t sure she should say. Then, gently, "You really believe he’s not hiding anything from you?"
I sighed. "I don’t know. Maybe he is. But... I can’t judge him for that."
Her brows lifted. "Why not?"
I hesitated, picking at the napkin under my fingers. "Because I haven’t exactly been completely honest either."
The air shifted just a little. "What do you mean?" she asked, the question light but her gaze suddenly too sharp, too still. "Is there something you’re not telling me?"
"It’s nothing big," I lied quickly. "Just... Irrelevant stuff... that I don’t talk about." I forced a smile, adding, "You know how I am."
Her smile twitched but didn’t soften. "Oh, I know exactly how you are."
Something in her tone made my pulse stutter. I laughed it off. "You make it sound like that’s a bad thing."
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on my face, tracing every flicker of guilt and hesitation like she was memorizing it. Then, too smoothly, "It’s not bad. It’s just... sometimes I think you give too much of yourself away to people who don’t deserve it."
Her hand found mine across the table, thumb grazing over my knuckles. "But I think you should be careful with him, Aria. Men like that... they take and take until you forget who you are."
I tried to smile, but something cold rippled under my skin. "He’s not like that."
"Maybe not yet," she murmured. "But are you sure you’d even see it coming?"
The words were soft, but they lodged deep, like a splinter. I looked down at our hands... hers perfectly still, fingers pressing just a little too tight and gently pulled away.
Sarah’s expression didn’t change. "Sorry," she said after a moment, her tone snapping back to lightness. "Listen to me, turning into the lecture queen again. You know I just worry."
I exhaled shakily, trying to match her smile. "I know."
And then, as if she could feel the unease she’d stirred, she pivoted the conversation cleanly, her voice bright again. "Anyway, how long has it been since you last stepped foot in the office? Feels like forever."
"Yeah," I admitted. "Too long."
"You should’ve been fired by now," she teased, pulling a takeout box toward herself. "Honestly, I’m shocked your name’s still on the staff list at XE. Guess it helps to be sleeping with the CEO."
"Sarah," I laughed, but the sound came out thin. "That’s not funny."
"Relax, I’m teasing." She winked, but the edge in her voice didn’t quite disappear. "I mean, if I were you, I’d use that power too. Perks of being the boss’s favorite, right?"
I ducked my head, guilt rising sharp in my throat. "I’m going back tomorrow," I said, almost defensively. "I guess It’s time."
"Good," she said, smile widening, though something about it felt too satisfied. "Perfect timing, too. You heard about the end-of-year gala?"
"The one the company’s hosting?"
"Mm-hm." She leaned forward, elbows on the table. "It’s going to be huge this time. You’re definitely coming right? I know you are. We need to go shopping together."
I frowned a little, unsure. "I don’t know if I’ll come. Things might be hectic..."
"Oh, don’t say that silly." she said, the certainty in her tone almost chilling. "You are definitely coming. I’d really like it if you were there, Aria."
Her smile was soft, almost wistful, but her eyes her eyes looked like she already knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.
By the time Olivia came back, the house was already dimming into early evening, rain-heavy clouds gathering outside like the sky itself was holding its breath. Sarah rose with that soft, bright smile she always wore when leaving, as if she hadn’t spent the last hour tangling up my thoughts in quiet knots.
"I should get going before it pours," she said, brushing invisible crumbs from her lap.
"Are you sure? You can wait out the rain."
She shook her head, reaching to squeeze my shoulder. "I’ll be fine. You take care of yourself, okay? And think about the party."
"I will," I said automatically.
She smiled again... warm on the surface, unreadable beneath and then she was gone, the sound of the door closing somehow louder than it should’ve been.
Olivia and her kids came in moments later with her juggling bags and an umbrella. The normalcy of it was grounding, almost soothing, and I forced myself to help her unpack groceries, to laugh when she teased me about looking half-asleep.
But underneath it all, my mind kept circling back to him.
Kael.
The silence from him stretched too long, too heavy. Every time I glanced at my phone, the screen stayed dark. I told myself he was busy, that whatever had pulled him away earlier was important, but the ache didn’t fade.
After dinner, when Olivia went to settle Lily and Kaleb who wouldn’t stay asking for Kael down for the night, I finally gave in and texted him.
Hey... are you still at work?
No reply.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. I typed another.
You didn’t even tell me if you got to work safe.
Still nothing.
By the time the first raindrop hit the window, I’d lost count of how many times I’d checked the screen. The sound of the rain deepened fast, turning into a steady, rhythmic downpour. It filled the silence around me until it was all I could hear.
I called him. Once. Twice.
It rang, and rang, and then, voicemail.
"Kael, it’s me," I whispered into the phone, my voice barely holding steady. "Just... call me when you can, okay?"
I ended the call before I could sound any needier, pressing the phone to my chest for a moment like that could bridge the distance somehow. Outside, thunder rolled low and soft.
The lights flickered, and the whole world felt suspended, half between memory and reality, the warmth of last night bleeding away into the cold hum of the storm.
I sat there by the window until my reflection blurred against the glass, watching the rain chase itself down the pane, and told myself he’d call.
He always did.
Eventually.