My fingers trembled around the flimsy Styrofoam cup Zach pressed into my hands, the lukewarm water doing little to steady the storm roiling inside me. I could feel the tremor running through every inch of my body, threatening to topple me into despair. Glancing up, I met Zach’s towering silhouette, his presence both a shield and a weight pressing down on my chest. I drank greedily, desperate to quell the rising panic, though it barely touched the surface of my raw nerves.
We sat side by side in the dull airport lounge, waiting for the inevitable boarding call that neither of us was truly prepared to face. Lexie, ever the theatrical tempest, had stormed off after our explosive confrontation, leaving me stranded in the wreckage she’d ignited. But it wasn’t what Zach might say or do that gnawed at me; my thoughts were consumed by one agonizing question—how would Lexie break this to Noah? I had planned to confess in my own time, on my own terms, but the thought of him learning this way—abrupt, cruel, and shattering—was unbearable. I couldn’t bear to imagine his face when that truth landed like a hammer blow. It wasn’t my safety I feared; it was his heartbreak that haunted me.
Zach eased himself down beside me, shifting uneasily to carve out a sliver of space between us. We sat in a heavy silence, but the tension was palpable—his rigid posture and clenched jaw spoke volumes of the turmoil churning beneath his stoic mask. With anyone else, I might have forced the conversation, demanded answers to release the pressure, but with Zach, an invisible boundary held me back. I still saw him as the man meant for my sister, the stranger I was supposed to marry, and the shyness I felt around him was a stubborn remnant from before our lives twisted together.
His voice broke the silence, low and hesitant. "You were with someone when we... got married?" The question hung between us, fragile and uncertain, as if he feared hearing the answer.
I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, a bitter taste of guilt coating my tongue. This was the moment I dreaded—the unveiling of my fractured heart, the confession that might forever alter what little fragile ground we stood on. I wondered, fleetingly, if revealing this secret would soften his icy distance, if knowing I too had lost love might kindle an ember of understanding between us.
"Does he know that you...?" His voice faltered, barely a whisper.
I shook my head. "No. I couldn’t tell him. I just couldn’t." My voice was fragile, barely audible, and I hated myself for the cowardice it revealed. But the thought of breaking Noah’s heart—his steadfast, gentle heart—was more than I could bear.
"Is that why you smashed your phone? You never meant to tell him, did you?" Understanding dawned on Zach’s face like a slow sunrise, and I groaned inwardly, resentful of his sudden curiosity. I longed for the times when he ignored me completely; this probing felt invasive, unwelcome.
"Arianna..." Zach groaned, bracing his forehead in his hand, the weight of frustration and regret clear in his voice. "You don’t do that to people." He let his head drop, defeated, as if the burden of my secrecy was crushing him as much as it was me. I knew exactly what he meant—by hiding the truth from Noah, I had acted selfishly, a coward cloaked in misplaced mercy. But to me, it was the lesser evil—better to shield him from pain, even if it meant carrying it all alone.
"Sorry, I didn’t realize there was a proper way to tell your boyfriend you married someone else," I snapped, sharper than I intended, the edge of bitterness slicing through my exhaustion.
The Zach I thought I knew might have retorted with equal venom, but he remained silent, his quiet acceptance a fragile truce I clung to. My mind was a tangled mess, and I feared that one wrong word could ignite a fire too fierce to contain. Our relationship was already stretched thin, and I dared not push it further into ruin.
After a moment, his voice softened, vulnerable. "Did you love him?"
I exhaled a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. "More than you could ever imagine." But his question lingered in my mind—did he mean past tense? Because even now, my heart ached with a love for Noah that refused to fade. It was a constant ache, a silent song I couldn’t silence, no matter how harsh my reality became.
Beside me, Zach sighed deeply, the sound mingling with the distant airport announcement signaling our flight was ready to board. I hastily gathered my belongings, the weight of our conversation settling heavily over me like a shroud. How strange, I thought, to be baring my soul about my former love to the man I was now bound to. It felt surreal, almost obscene.
A man slipped between Zach and me in the line, and the sudden separation offered a sliver of relief. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my documents, papers cascading to the floor in a clumsy scatter. The man behind me stooped to gather them, handing them back with a grin that didn’t reach his bleary eyes. The stale scent of alcohol clung to him, an invisible warning that sent a surge of discomfort through me.
"What, no thank you?" he slurred, his breath harsh against my ear as I instinctively recoiled. The cold knot of fear tightened in my stomach as he closed the distance, his words dripping with unwelcome desire. "You’re looking mighty fine, and that ass..." His hand slid down my back with a possessive, disgusting familiarity, and I shivered, disgusted and vulnerable beneath his touch.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the moment to vanish, praying he would release me, but then a sudden, thunderous crash shattered the tension. I blinked, startled, to see Zach towering over the man sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from his nose in a stark contrast to his stunned expression.
"You touch her again, and you’ll wish you were dead," Zach growled, his voice a fierce promise. The drunken man whimpered, nodding frantically, shock sobering him instantly as security officers arrived to haul him away without a word to Zach—his reputation preceding him even here.
I moved to Zach’s side, my heart pounding, and he turned to me, eyes searching. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice steady despite the bruises darkening his knuckles.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, my gaze fixed on his battered hand rather than his fierce, protective eyes. Tentatively, I reached out, tracing gentle fingers over the raised bruises, and whispered, "You didn’t have to do that." Fear fluttered in my chest, afraid to meet the intensity of his stare.
He withdrew his hand, stepping back into the queue, the space between us less daunting this time as I settled beside him. I wanted to cling to his arm, to find solace in that contact, but the awkwardness of our tenuous bond held me back.
"I might not be the love of your life, Arianna," he said quietly, voice soft but resolute, "but it’s still my job to protect you. Whether you like it or not."
A strange warmth bloomed inside me, fragile and unexpected—a flicker of safety in the midst of chaos. For the first time in what felt like forever, I imagined a moment where nothing could hurt me. Not while he was here. But a shadow of doubt crept in alongside the hope. What if Zach himself became the threat? Could the man who guarded me so fiercely also be the one to break me? The thought tightened around my heart as we moved forward toward an uncertain future, bound by sacrifice and shadowed by questions yet unanswered.