It was a lazy Sunday morning, and Ember was still asleep, curled up under her warm blankets. The soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow on her face. Her peaceful slumber, however, was abruptly interrupted by her mother's voice.
"Ember! Wake up before I get angry, or I won't serve you breakfast!" her mother scolded, standing by the doorway with her arms crossed.
Ember groaned, half-asleep, stretching like a cat before forcing herself to sit up. She dragged herself to the bathroom, her body still sluggish with sleep. As she brushed her teeth, her thoughts were hazy, but the moment she splashed cold water onto her face, the last traces of drowsiness vanished.
She reached for a towel, dabbing her damp face, when something in the mirror caught her eye. Her breath hitched. Shocked, she leaned closer, her fingers trembling as they traced the marks on her neck—deep, unmistakable love bites from last night. Her heart pounded as anger bubbled inside her.
"Dylan… you idiot!" she whispered through gritted teeth, frustration lacing her voice. The marks were too dark, too obvious, and placed in a spot that would be nearly impossible to hide.
"I can't even go outside like this… on a holiday, no less! Ahh!" she groaned, stomping her foot in frustration.
Determined to fix the situation, Ember hurried into the shower, hoping the hot water would somehow lessen the marks. But even after scrubbing her skin, they remained stubbornly visible. She tried concealer, layering it over and over, but the bruises were too deep to be covered completely.
With a defeated sigh, she wrapped a scarf tightly around her neck and threw on a high-neck sweater, making sure every inch of the marks was hidden. Satisfied, she headed downstairs for breakfast.
As she sat at the table, her mother glanced at her with a suspicious look.
"Hey, it's not that cold. Why are you wearing a scarf indoors?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Ember froze. Her heart stopped for a second, panic surging through her veins. Was it that obvious?
Her face paled, and her mother frowned, placing a hand on her forehead. "You don't have a fever… but just in case, take some rest," she said with concern.
Relieved that she had dodged suspicion, Ember forced a small smile. "Okay… but where are Zen and Dad?" she asked, quickly changing the subject, hoping her mother wouldn't press further.
"Zen had something to buy for his project, so they went out to get it," Ember's mother said, placing the last dish on the table.
After finishing her household chores, Ember went back to her room. As she stepped inside, her gaze fell upon the book lying on her bed. A determined smile formed on her lips. Today, I'm going to finish it all.
She settled comfortably on her bed, flipping the first page, and soon, she was completely absorbed in the story. The world around her faded, replaced by the vivid imagery of the book's pages.
Time slipped away unnoticed.
Her mother called out for lunch, but Ember was too engrossed to hear. When there was no response, her mother sighed in frustration and made her way downstairs. Just as she reached the stairs, the doorbell rang. She muttered under her breath, shaking her head.
"Ember! Are you asleep? You don't even hear the doorbell!" she called out, exasperated. "I also have Sundays to rest, but no—no one in this house wants me to relax, even for a little while!"
Still mumbling complaints, she opened the door.
To her surprise, Zayne stood there, holding a package in his hands.
"Good afternoon, Aunty. I hope you're doing well," Zayne greeted her with a warm smile.
Her expression softened. "Zayne! How are you?" she asked, stepping aside to let him in.
"I'm doing fine," he replied politely.
"So, what brings you here?" she asked, eyeing the package curiously.
"Actually, my mother met Ember earlier and asked me to give this to her," he explained.
Ember's mother studied him for a moment, nodding in approval. Such a well-mannered boy. She sighed dramatically before adding, "You're really a good child. I'm sure your mother is proud of you. Unlike mine—she's lazy, like a panda!" She shook her head, then gestured toward the house. "Come inside! Let's talk if you're not busy."
Zayne chuckled. "I'm not busy. And honestly, I think Ember is quite responsible too," he said, running a hand through his hair, his smile never fading.
Before heading to the kitchen, Rose turned to Zayne. "Oh, before that—why don't you go and call Ember? She hasn't eaten yet. Let's all have lunch together."
Zayne hesitated. "Aunty, but—"
Rose cut him off with a playful glare. "No 'but'! You just have to call her. We'll all have lunch together. Ember's father and Zen aren't home, and I don't want to eat alone on my holiday. So, you're staying!"
Zayne chuckled again, surrendering. "Alright, alright. I'll go get her."
Rose beamed. "That's great! I'll set the table.Zayne knocked on the door, but there was no response. He waited for a moment before noticing that the door was slightly ajar. Gently pushing it open, he stepped inside.
His eyes immediately fell on Ember, lying on the bed, holding the book he had given her.
"Ember," he called softly.
At the sound of his voice, she turned toward him, but what he saw made his breath hitch—her eyes were red, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
Concerned, Zayne quickly moved closer, sitting beside her. Without a second thought, he reached out and gently wiped her tears. His touch was warm, comforting.
"What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.
Ember clutched the book tighter. "This book..." she whispered.
Zayne let out a small sigh. "I know it's a little emotional, but you... why are you crying this much? It's not like it's happening to you," he said, attempting to ease her emotions.
The moment those words left his lips, Ember's tears fell even harder.
Realizing his mistake, he panicked. "I didn't mean it that way... I—" he trailed off, unsure of how to console her.
For a moment, he just watched her, his heart aching at the sight of her sorrow. Then, as if acting on instinct, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close into a warm embrace.
"I know it's hard to understand right now," he murmured against her hair, "but you haven't finished reading it yet, right?"
Ember, still resting in his arms, nodded weakly.
Zayne continued, his voice gentle yet firm. "You know, life is unpredictable. What happens in the future isn't always what we think or wish for. Sometimes, it's something we don't want, something painful. But those moments… they help us grow. They show us a bigger picture, a different path—one we might not have seen before. So, why don't you read the whole story first? And then decide how you feel. Maybe, just maybe, what happened in his life made him better, stronger."
Ember lifted her gaze to meet his, searching his eyes. His words carried a quiet wisdom, a reassurance she hadn't realized she needed.
"You're right," she admitted softly. "I should finish it first."
A small chuckle escaped Zayne's lips. He flicked her forehead lightly. "You're so silly, crying so much over a book." His teasing smile returned. "Why don't you wash your face and come upstairs? Have lunch with me and Aunty Rose."
Ember noticed that the distance between them was too close for just friends. She shifted slightly, creating a more appropriate space between them. Then she blinked in surprise. "You're staying?"
Zayne leaned back slightly, smirking. "I just came to deliver something, but Aunty Rose insisted, so I'm joining you both."
A warmth spread through Ember's chest. She nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. Maybe, just maybe… she can forget what she readed in that book , that different from her and Dylan's story .
"That's great! You go first. I'll be back after a quick wash-up," Ember said with a small smile.
"Okay," Zayne replied, turning to leave. But just as he reached the door, something made him pause.
He glanced back, about to say something—but the sight before him made his breath hitch, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar emotion.
Ember had removed her scarf before heading to the washroom, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. Zayne's eyes locked onto her neck, where deep, unmistakable marks marred her delicate skin. Love bites. Someone else's touch. A sharp pang of jealousy surged through him like fire.
And then—she lifted her hands, gathering her hair into a bun, and his gaze fell on the ring she wore. His jaw clenched.
A cold wave of possessiveness washed over him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, the urge to punch something—someone—burning through him.
Zayne shut the door, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself. He couldn't let these emotions take over. Not now. Not here.
With a forced breath, he made his way upstairs to the dining room, focusing on helping Aunty Rose set the table—anything to keep his mind from the raging storm inside him.
But the image of Ember's marked skin and that ring on her finger refused to leave his mind.
Ember came upstairs, joining them at the dining table. Zayne's sharp eyes immediately noticed that she was wearing the scarf again. His jaw tightened. Trying to hide it, huh?
They began eating, but Zayne's attention kept drifting to Ember's hand. That ring.
His mind raced, searching for a way to bring it up. Who gave you that ring? No, too direct. Your ring is pretty? That sounded forced. He struggled for the right words, his thoughts tangled—until, without realizing, he blurted out, "That last one looks nice."
Ember, caught off guard, followed his gaze and looked at her ring finger. For the first time that day, she actually noticed it. The ring Dylan had given her.
Panic surged through her.
"Oh! This ring..." she stammered, hastily slipping her hand under the table, as if hiding it would erase the question.
But it was too late.
Her mother's voice cut through the air. "Ember, you're wearing a ring? Why?" Rose's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Let me see it."
Ember hesitated, but there was no escaping now. Slowly, she extended her hand.
Rose examined it closely, her expression softening. "It's beautiful," she remarked, admiring the delicate design. The ring featured a large, round-cut diamond set in a raised prong setting, the silver band smooth and polished, giving it an air of classic elegance.
Then, her mother's brows furrowed. "But we didn't buy this…?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
Ember swallowed hard, her heart pounding. Think, Ember, think!
Forcing a smile, she quickly came up with an excuse. "Oh! I... I bought it myself. When I went shopping. Yeah!" she nodded eagerly. "It looked really pretty, so I got it."
Zayne's gaze darkened, his grip on the fork tightening. He wasn't buying it.
Zayne sat silently, just observing Ember. His gaze never left her as he listened.
Her mother, still examining the ring, tilted her head slightly. "It looks quite expensive… the diamond looks so real."
Ember forced a casual laugh. "Mom, it's not a real diamond. It's just an American diamond—it's not that costly. I just thought it was pretty, so I bought it."
Rose nodded, still admiring the design. "You're right, the design is beautiful. You know, when the time comes to buy you an engagement ring for your wedding, I think this style would be a great reference," she mused.
Zayne's grip on his fork tightened.
Then Rose added, "Ember, I know you love rings, but how many times have I told you not to wear one on that finger? What if someone misunderstands?"
Ember rolled her eyes playfully. "Mom, you're overthinking. But fine, if it bothers you, I'll wear it on a different finger, okay?"
Her mother sighed, nodding. "That's better."
As she spoke, her eyes flickered to Zayne, who was still staring at Ember's ring, his expression unreadable.
As Ember's mother, Rose had always found Zayne to be a good companion for her daughter. The way he had brought Ember home that day, the way he always looked after her—it didn't go unnoticed.
With a knowing smile, Rose turned to him. "Zayne, don't take her too seriously. She's absolutely obsessed with rings. Every single time we go shopping, she buys one—without fail."
Zayne wanted to believe her words—he really did. But after seeing the marks on her neck, it was impossible.
With a bitter smile, he said, "It's okay, Aunty. I understand."
Then, turning to Ember, his voice softened. "It looks really beautiful on your hand."
Not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer, Zayne quickly changed the topic. "Aunty, your house is quite unique. Most people have their kitchen on the ground floor, but yours is on the first floor."
Ember smiled and explained, "Actually, my parents wanted a balcony in their room, and my mom loves to cook—especially late at night. So, they designed the house to feel like a studio apartment. That's why our first floor looks the way it does. Zen and I have our rooms downstairs."
Her mother nodded in agreement. "Yes, Ember is right. Initially, we only built the first floor and left the ground floor unfinished. But when we had children, we added their rooms downstairs."
Zayne nodded, intrigued. "That's really interesting."
After finishing lunch, Zayne handed a package to Ember. "My mother bought this for you," he said.
Curious, Ember unwrapped it and found a beautiful scarf inside. Her eyes lit up. "This is so cute! Say thanks to Aunty for me. Tell her I love it! Let me try it on."
She reached up to remove her scarf, excited to try the new one—but then, a sudden realization hit her. She froze.
Zayne caught the shift in her expression instantly.
With a knowing look, he said, "It's okay. You can try it later. I have some work to attend to, so let's meet next time." He turned to Rose and added, "Goodbye, Aunty."
Then, without another word, he left.
Later in the evening, Ember's father and Zen returned home. She spent the evening helping her brother with his school project, and before she knew it, the day had flown by.
Night fell.
After dinner, everyone retired to their rooms.
Ember was exhausted, but when her eyes landed on the book resting on her bedside table, another thought crossed her mind—her diary.
Despite her tiredness, she reached for it, flipping it open.
And then, she began to write.