I wish we hadn't ended.

Chapter 4: Forgiven.

ARIA BEVERLEIGH
I left the school and walked home—yes, walked. Disappointment and sadness lingered after our fight over that stupid Jamilah. I was just sad. Just SAD.

With my parents away in a different city for work, I'd be home alone, which might be a good thing. It would give me time to think and maybe distract myself with chores. Yeah, chores—a good idea.

Heading home, too lazy to change, I tied my hair into a ponytail, blasted some of my favorite music, and started cleaning the kitchen. I was still sad, but the distraction was helping. That was until I saw the pictures of me and Zaid on the fridge. I stopped the music, sat down on one of the chairs at the kitchen island, and started sobbing. Why was I so moody?

Then, the doorbell rang. Who could it be? A delivery? My mom's Shein order? My Sephora order? I wiped my eyes with my sleeves, though I knew it probably smudged my makeup. My white T-shirt showcased the smudged 12.99 dollar mascara on my sleeves, but I didn't care.

Heading to the door and opening it, Zaid stood in front of me. I didn't know what to say or do. My mind went blank, and I just stared at him.

"Aria..." he mumbled, then took a step forward and hugged me tightly, almost lifting me off the ground. Being shorter than him, he had to bend down a little to hug me. I found that cute, but at that moment, all I could do was stand there and hug him back. I just wanted things to be good with him again. Just good.

"I'm sorry, Zaid," I sobbed. He took a step back, cupping my face and shaking his head.

"Aria, no, don't apologize. You were right. I broke our promise, didn't keep my word. You were right. I had no right to be so harsh with you. Forgive me. I apologize."

I just looked at him, nodding. Why was I nodding?

No words were coming out of my mouth. He was there, apologizing. He came to my house. MY HOUSE.
I just hugged him again. I felt happy, euphoric. He pushed me in as we were still hugging, closing the door behind him.
I let go of the hug and stepped back, unsure whether I looked like a clown with my smudged
makeup or cute. Only Zaid and God knew.

"Look, I never meant to make you cry, Aria. You don't know how bad I feel seeing you like this."

"No, it's okay. I'm fine. I was just being moody and emotional for no reason, and you were right. I have no right to stick my nose into your love life," I said as I moved to the kitchen, grabbing the washcloth and aggressively wiping the counters.

He walked after me, leaning against the counter.

"No, you were right. I was just being silly. Let me start from the beginning. Jamilah texted me first on Instagram, and somehow from there, we started texting every day, but it felt more like a friendship. I did not develop any romantic feelings for her, no. Maybe she did. I don't know."

"When did this happen?" I asked, not looking at him.

"Four months ago," he replied.

"And you said it lasted two months, so you ended things two months ago?" I asked flatly.

He nodded.

"Anyway, do we have to talk about Jamilah right now? It's your love life, not mine, so I'm not really bothered."

"You're lying," he said as if he were sure.

"No."

"Yes."

"I am not lying, Zaid."

"You are. I just know—someone who didn't care wouldn't be crying over this, am I wrong?"