The hospital discharged me on Friday morning, the kind where the air bites just enough to remind me I'm alive. My wrist throbbed under its cast, a dull pulse syncing with the headache that hadn’t quite left since I woke up.
Three days unconscious, a fractured wrist, a stitched-up cut on my forehead, and a concussion that still made my thoughts feel like they were wading through mud. I was a walking testament to survival, but I didn’t feel victorious. Not yet.
Mom had to head back to her hospital last night, her big case looming like a shadow over her promise to stay.
Kai swore he’d be here to pick me up, but his phone buzzed with some corporate crisis, supply chain gone to hell, he’d said and he was stuck three hours away, playing CEO instead of big brother.
Dad and Allie were buried in their own work too, their successful careers pulling them back to reality while I sat here, a literature student with a busted hand and a heart in pieces after that damn symposium accident. I get it, my family’s a whirlwind of ambition but it stung, being alone when I needed them most.
Except I wasn’t alone. Ethan was there.
He stood by the nurse’s station, signing some discharge papers Mom had apparently roped him into handling, his dark hair catching the fluorescent light, his suit jacket swapped for a casual sweater that made him look softer, less like the professor who’d shattered me and more like the guy I’d once trusted with everything.
I watched him from my wheelchair that the nurse force me to use because it was a hospital policy, and it's not even my choice.
My stomach twisting with a mix of resentment and something softer I couldn’t name. He’d stayed last night, slept in that stiff chair by my bed, and now he was driving me back to Inkwell. 30 minutes alone with him. Great.
“You ready?” he asked, turning to me with a small, cautious smile, his hazel eyes searching mine like he was afraid I’d bolt.
I nodded, keeping my voice flat. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The nurse wheeled me out, Ethan trailing with my duffel bag slung over his shoulder like some reluctant knight. The parking lot was quiet, the morning sun glinting off his car, a sleek black sedan that smelled faintly of leather and him when I slid inside. He stashed my bag in the back, climbed in, and started the engine, the hum filling the silence that stretched between us like a tightrope neither of us dared to cross.
The first few miles were torture. I stared out the window, watching the trees blur into a green smear, my good hand fidgeting with the cast on my left. Ethan kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white on the wheel, like he was gripping it to keep from saying something. The radio played low, some indie song I didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the awkwardness.
Finally, he broke it. “How’s the wrist feeling?” His voice was soft, careful, like he was testing the waters.
“Sore,” I said, keeping my tone neutral, my gaze fixed outside. “But I’ll live.”
He nodded, a faint hum in his throat. “Good. That’s… good. If it starts hurting too much, let me know. I can stop somewhere, get you something for it.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, a little sharper than I meant to, and he flinched, just barely, but I saw it. Guilt flickered, but I shoved it down. I didn’t owe him softness, not after everything.
The silence crept back, heavier this time, until he tried again. “Your friends… they’re probably planning some big welcome-back thing, huh? Zianne’s not exactly subtle.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips, despite myself. “Yeah, probably. She’s been texting me nonstop about ‘Operation Cheer Up Aria.’ I’m guessing it involves food and chaos.”
He chuckled, low and warm, and it hit me like a punch how much I’d missed that sound. “Sounds about right. They’re good people. You’re lucky to have them.”
“Yeah,” I said, softer now, my guard slipping just a crack. “I am.”
We lapsed back into quiet, but it wasn’t as suffocating this time. The road stretched on, winding through small towns and open fields, and I let my mind drift, replaying the hospital, his flowers, the way he’d looked at me last night... relieved, wrecked, like I was still his world even after he’d torched it. It didn’t make sense, and it made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t untangle.
“You did great at the symposium,” he said suddenly, pulling me back. “Before… you know. I meant what I said in that text. You were incredible up there.”
I turned to him then, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Thanks. Guess it’s a good thing I finished before the banner decided to take me out.”
His lips twitched, a faint smile, but his eyes stayed serious. “Yeah. Timing’s everything.”
I nodded, looking away again, the weight of his words settling between us. Timing. If only it had been different for us too.
The rest of the drive was a dance of small talk about classes, the weather, anything but us. He tried, I’d give him that, keeping it light, civil, like we were just old friends catching up. I played along, answering in short bursts, keeping my walls up. But every glance at him... his hands on the wheel, the way his brow furrowed when he thought I wasn’t looking, chipped at those walls, and I hated how much I still noticed.
When we pulled into Inkwell’s parking lot, the sun was high, campus buzzing with Friday energy. He parked near my dorm, killed the engine, and turned to me, his expression shifting to something softer, more uncertain. “Need help with your bag?”
“I’ve got it,” I said, reaching for the door handle with my good hand. “Thanks for the ride.”
He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but nodded instead. “Anytime, Aria. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, stepping out, slinging my bag over my shoulder with a wince as my cast jostled. “You too.”
I didn’t look back as I walked away, but I felt his eyes on me, a quiet burn that lingered until I disappeared into the dorm building.
———
The second I pushed open the door to my shared dorm with Zianne, a deafening POP split the air, and a shower of confetti rained down like a glitter bomb gone rogue. I yelped, nearly dropping my bag as my friends erupted from every corner. Zianne, Jiro, Arkin, Aiden, and Troy, all grinning like maniacs, armed with party poppers and a banner strung across the room that read, “Welcome Back, Aria!”
“What the—” I started, but Zianne tackled me in a hug, cutting me off, her arms tight around my neck.
“You’re alive!” she squealed, pulling back to inspect me like I might vanish. “Look at you, all badass with your cast and battle scars! We’ve been planning this since you woke up!”
Jiro swooped in next, waving a pizza box under my nose. “Yo, hero! We got your faves... pepperoni, extra cheese, and those garlic knots you’re obsessed with. Hospital food’s trash, so we’re fixing that.”
Arkin hung back, his chill smile steady as he nodded at me. “Good to have you back, Aria. Place wasn’t the same without your chaos.”
Troy grinned, tossing a soda can my way that I barely caught with my good hand. “Yeah, we were betting on whether you’d wake up swinging or crying. Looks like you split the difference.”
Aiden stepped up last, his lopsided grin lighting up his face as he ruffled my hair. “Told you you’re too stubborn to stay down. You scared the crap out of us, though.”
I laughed, a real, shaky sound that bubbled up from somewhere deep, and it hit me how much I’d missed this... their noise, their mess, their stupid, perfect love. “You guys are ridiculous,” I said, my voice catching as I swiped at my eyes. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Believe it,” Zianne said, dragging me to the bed where they’d set up a spread pizza, chips, sodas, a pile of candy bars like we were kids again. “You’re our MVP. No way we’re letting you come back without a party.”
They piled around me, Jiro and Troy sprawling on the floor, Arkin and Aiden claiming chairs, Zianne perched beside me like a guard dog.
The room filled with chatter. Jiro’s dumb football stories, Arkin’s ranting about his music teacher forcing him to enter the singing contest that his happening next month, Troy’s quiet quips, Aiden sketching something on his sketch pad while Zianne fed me pizza like I was too fragile to lift a slice. It was chaos, warm and loud, and for a while, I let it sweep me away, the ache in my chest easing under their laughter.
But then Jiro, mid-bite of his third slice, leaned forward, his grin turning sly. “So, Aria, spill. How’d it go with Professor Heartbreaker on the drive back? We’re calling him that now, by the way, no more ‘Hottie.’ He lost that privilege.”
The room stilled, all eyes swinging to me, and my stomach flipped. I set my pizza down, wiping my hands on my jeans, buying time. “It was… fine,” I said, my voice careful, measured. “Awkward, but fine. He drove me back, we talked a little. Kept it civil.”
Zianne’s brow furrowed, her pizza slice hovering mid-air. “Civil? That’s it? After he stayed with you all night at the hospital?”
I nodded, picking at a thread on my cast. “Yeah. Last night was… weird. Mom and Kai had to leave because of work stuff and they asked him to stay with me until I got discharged. We didn’t really talk about… us. Not in front of them. I acted like everything was normal, like he’s just Kai’s friend, you know? And he went along with it.”
Arkin leaned back, crossing his arms. “So, what, you two just played house for your family? That’s messed up, Aria.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice dropping, softer now. “It was. Mom kept thanking him, saying how great he is, how he’s always looked out for me. Kai was all ‘you’re the man, Ethan,’ like nothing’s changed. They don’t know he broke me. And he just… stood there, taking it, acting like it’s all fine.”
Jiro’s jaw dropped, a fry dangling from his mouth. “Dude, that’s wild. He’s out here playing the good guy while dating Professor Davies? What a snake.”
Aiden’s pencil stopped scratching, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me. “He didn’t say anything? Like, no apology, no explanation?”
I shook my head, my throat tightening. “Not really. Last night, he tried, he said we should talk about ‘everything’ but I shut it down. Told him I didn’t want to hear it, that it’s over, forgotten. I said he’s with Professor Davies now, and I respect that. Asked him to act like nothing happened.”
Zianne’s eyes widened, her voice soft but sharp. “Aria, you didn’t.”
“I had to,” I said, my voice breaking a little. “I can’t keep doing this… this back-and-forth with him. He stayed with me, sure, and I’m grateful he got me to the ambulance, but that doesn’t erase what he did. He asked me if we could stay friends, but I didn’t answer him. I just… I turned over and went to sleep.”
The room went quiet, the weight of my words settling over us like a fog. Troy shifted, his voice low. “That’s heavy, Aria. You’re stronger than I’d be.”
“Yeah,” Arkin said, his tone steady but warm. “Most people would’ve lost it on him. You kept it together.”
I managed a shaky laugh, swiping at my eyes. “Did I? I feel like a mess. He’s still in my head, you know? I hate him so much, but then I hear he stayed three days while I was out, and I… I don’t know. It’s confusing.”
Jiro tossed a candy wrapper at me, his grin soft but fierce. “That’s because he’s a walking contradiction, Aria. Dumps you, dates Professor Davies, then plays hero? He's got issues. But you? You’re a rock star. You survived a freaking banner attack and came back swinging.”
Aiden reached over, squeezing my good hand, his grin lopsided but real. “He doesn’t get to mess with your head anymore, okay? You’ve got us. We’re your chaos crew, and we’re not going anywhere.”
I squeezed back, my chest warming despite the ache. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best. This… this helps. A lot.”
We kept eating, chatting, laughing at Jiro’s dumb impressions and Zianne’s latest party tales. The room was alive with them, my lifeline, pulling me out of the dark spiral Ethan had left me in.
They stayed until the afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, then trickled out for their afternoon classes, leaving hugs and promises to check in later.
Zianne lingered last, kissing my forehead before darting off, and then it was just me, the dorm quiet except for the hum of my thoughts.
———
I sank onto my bed, the cast heavy on my lap, the confetti still clinging to my blazer like a memory of their love. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I grabbed it, my heart stuttering when I saw Ethan’s name again.
Ethan: Hey, Aria. I hope you're taking a rest now. Take it easy, okay? Focus on getting better. Don’t hesitate to text if you need anything. I’m here.
My thumb hovered over the screen, a storm brewing in my chest. He’s here? After everything? I wanted to fire back something bitter, to tell him to leave me alone, to stop acting like he cared when he’d chosen Professor Davies. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, I typed a simple reply, my fingers trembling.
Me: Thanks.
I hit send, tossing the phone aside like it burned, and flopped back onto my pillows, staring at the ceiling. The dorm was silent now, the party’s warmth fading into the walls, leaving me alone with the mess in my head.
I hated him. I hated him so much it burned, a fire that flared every time I thought of his calm “It’s over” in his office, the way he’d looked at Professor Davies like she was his new everything.
Four days. Four days after breaking me, he was with her, and now he was texting me like some concerned friend? It was infuriating, humiliating, and yet… there he’d been, three days by my side while I was out, a wreck while I fought to wake up.
My chest fluttered, a stupid, stubborn warmth flickering through the anger. He’d saved me. Got me to the ambulance, stayed when no one else could. And last night, sitting there in that chair, watching me sleep, his flowers still on the table, their scent soft and sweet. It didn’t fit. None of it fit. Was he lying when he said he didn’t want me? Was Professor Davies some rebound, some cover? Or was I just a fool, clinging to scraps of hope he didn’t deserve?
I rolled onto my side, my good hand tracing the edge of my cast, tears prickling my eyes.
Maybe this was for the best. Maybe he’d done the right thing, ending us before it got messier. Before Kai and my family found out, before the school did, before it ruined us both. He was my professor, nine years older, tangled in a life I couldn’t touch. Professor Davies Davies fit him, polished and perfect, not some college kid with a crush and a busted wrist.
But why didn’t it feel right? Why did my heart shatter every time I pictured them together, her hand on his arm, his smile aimed at her instead of me? Why did I still hear his voice by the river, soft and sure, telling me I was worth it?
I curled up tighter, the tears slipping free now, hot and quiet against my pillow. It was heart-warming, knowing my friends had my back, throwing me a party, filling this room with love.
Heart-shuttering, because Ethan’s ghost lingered in every corner, his text glowing in my mind like a bittersweet ember.
Dramatic, because this was my life now, a mess of love and loss and stupid, stubborn hope.
Happy, because I’d survived, because I had Aiden back, because my squad was unbreakable.
Bittersweet, because I’d lost him, and even if it was for the best, it didn’t stop the ache.
Sleep tugged at me, heavy and insistent, and I let it pull me under, the dorm quiet around me, my thoughts a tangled dance of what-ifs and what-nows.
Ethan was out there, maybe busy with his lectures but still here, a shadow I couldn’t shake. I’d face him again in class, campus, in life and I’d be strong. I’d keep my walls up, my heart guarded, because I had to.
But as I drifted off, a tiny, treacherous part of me whispered,
What if he fights for me? What if he still wants me?

 And in that fragile, fading moment, I didn’t know if I’d push him away… or pull him close.