chapter three

REFLECTIONS

Ariel sat cross-legged on the plush carpet of the living room, her back resting against the edge of the coffee table. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting warm rays over the room and illuminating the countless family photos that adorned the walls. She glanced at the framed images, each capturing moments frozen in time—birthday parties, holidays, and the everyday joys of family life.

Xavier and Missy were beside her, flipping through a thick photo album that lay open on the table. The three of them laughed as they came across a particularly embarrassing picture of Xavier, his face smeared with cake from his fifth birthday party.

"Look at you! You were such a mess!" Missy teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Shut up! I was only five!" Xavier shot back, but he couldn't suppress a grin.

As their laughter faded, Ariel's gaze drifted away from the photos and turned inward. She couldn't shake the memory of Allan from her mind. The way he had stormed into the woods, the confidence in his movements, and the way he had saved her from that shadowy figure—it was all consuming.

Her thoughts spiraled. How did a human have such strength?

She bit her lip, recalling the moment he caught her before she fell, how his grip had felt steady and reassuring. But he wasn't just any human. He was a senior, a grade above her—a status that should have placed a greater divide between them. He barely spoke to anyone in their grade. So how did he know she was in danger? How had he found her?

The more she thought about it, the more questions piled up in her mind, each one leading to another. Did he know her? Had he been watching her?

The rational part of her mind screamed to turn back. That nothing about this was normal. That she wasn't safe. But something deeper—something older—kept her moving.

"What are you thinking about?" Missy's voice broke through her reverie, pulling Ariel back to the moment.

Ariel forced a smile. "Just… family stuff."

Xavier, oblivious to her distraction, continued flipping through the album. "Look at Mom and Dad in this one! They look so young!"

Ariel nodded absentmindedly, her gaze slipping back to the photos on the wall. They all had black hair—her parents, her siblings—every one of them except her. Why was she different?

Just as those thoughts settled in, Xavier paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the images. "Hey, Ariel, you do realize you're the only one with silver hair in this family, right?"

She shot him a playful glare. "Thanks for the reminder, Xavier."

"Seriously! You look like you walked straight out of a fairy tale or something," he teased, a grin spreading across his face. "Maybe that's why you've got all the drama with your 'mysterious voice' and everything. You're part fae or something."

Ariel couldn't help but roll her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Very funny. I'm just a regular girl with weird hair."

"Yeah, weirdly beautiful hair," Missy chimed in, smirking at their banter.

"Exactly! At least it's not boring," Xavier continued, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "I mean, look at me and Missy. Basic black. You've got the glam factor."

Ariel laughed, shaking her head. "I wouldn't call it glam. Just different."

"But different is good," Xavier said, his tone suddenly serious. "At least you don't blend in with the crowd. You've got something that makes you unique."

The compliment caught her off guard, and she felt a warmth spread through her. "Thanks, I guess. But right now, I'd trade this 'unique' hair for some answers."

Just then, Xavier's expression shifted, a grin spreading across his face. "Speaking of unique, have you heard about Audrey? She's in my class, and she has the most amazing British accent."

Ariel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What about her?"

Xavier's face lit up, and he leaned closer as if sharing a secret. "I swear, every time she speaks, it's like listening to music. It's so smooth, and she has this way of pronouncing words that makes everything sound fancy."

Ariel couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

"Maybe," he admitted, the blush creeping up his cheeks. "But she's really sweet, too. I mean, I like how she treats everyone with respect, even if they're not popular."

Ariel chuckled, her earlier tension easing. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

"Okay, maybe I do," he said, his voice a mix of pride and embarrassment. "But it's not just a crush! She's genuinely interesting. I want to get to know her better."

Ariel nudged him playfully. "So when do I get to meet her?"

Xavier waved a hand dismissively. "Not until I figure out how to actually talk to her without sounding like a total dork."

Ariel laughed, the heaviness in her chest lightening just a bit. "You'll figure it out, I promise."

As they continued to talk about Audrey, Ariel's mind began to drift away from Allan and the confusion that surrounded him. For the moment, the warmth of family and laughter filled the space, shielding her from the lingering doubts that haunted her. But as they flipped through the album, the feeling that something was shifting deep within her remained, like a secret waiting to be discovered.

Allan paced the expansive space of his luxurious room, frustration boiling within him. The opulence of his surroundings—a large four-poster bed draped in fine fabrics, a mahogany desk cluttered with books and papers, and walls adorned with art from renowned artists—seemed to clash with the turmoil in his mind. Why did he follow her? The questions spiraled in his thoughts like a relentless storm. Why did he save her? He could still feel the echo of her fear—the way her eyes had widened, the tremor in her voice. It was as if he had sensed her danger before he even knew she was in trouble. But why?

What led him to that place in the first place? He could have easily ignored the instinct to investigate, to rush into the woods and confront whatever darkness lurked there. Instead, he had charged in, fueled by a compulsion he couldn't explain.

His frustration mounted as he ran a hand through his dark hair, feeling the weight of his own decisions pressing down on him. It wasn't like Ariel appreciated any of his efforts. In fact, her outburst had caught him off guard—how could she react so strongly when he had only tried to help?

The sound of the door creaking open pulled him from his thoughts. Cara strolled in, her Scottish accent light and teasing. "What's your problem?" she asked, eyeing him with curiosity. "Don't you know the meaning of privacy?"

Allan shot her an annoyed glance, his frustration still simmering. "It's not like you knocked."

Ignoring his irritation, Cara held up two dresses—one pink, the other blue. "Which do you think Ian will prefer?"

"Why do you think Ian will notice you?" Allan replied, crossing his arms. "You're a grade below us."

Cara rolled her eyes, unbothered by his tone. "Well, I'm going to talk to him and ask him to the gala. The invitation says there must be a plus one."

Allan raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into his expression. "And you think he'll say yes just because you wear a pretty dress?"

"Absolutely!" Cara shot back, a determined grin on her face. "I mean, have you seen the way he looks at me? He's just waiting for the right moment."

Allan shook his head, but a small smile crept onto his face. He admired her confidence, even if he found it a little misguided.

Cara flipped her hair over her shoulder, focusing on the dresses again. "So which one? Pink or blue?"

Allan leaned closer, scrutinizing the fabric. "Honestly, neither looks like it'll impress Ian. Maybe just go in a paper bag. That might be more his style."

"Ha ha," she retorted, shoving him lightly. "Help me out here!"

"All right, all right," Allan said, rolling his eyes but enjoying the banter. "I think the blue one suits you better. It matches your personality—bold and striking."

"See? You're not completely useless," Cara said, her smile widening. "Now, I just have to figure out how to get him to notice me. Maybe I should bake him cookies or something."

Allan shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. "Cookies? That's your grand plan? What are you, ten?"

"Well, it worked for you when you were ten!" she shot back with a grin.

He groaned, the tension in his chest lightening a little. "Just be yourself, Cara. Don't overthink it."

But even as he said the words, his mind drifted back to Ariel. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something he wasn't ready for.

"Are you even listening?" Cara asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, though his mind was still preoccupied. "I just… have other things on my mind."

"Like Ariel?" Cara teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Allan's heart skipped, but he managed to maintain his composure. "You've been eavesdropping again?"

"Just a hunch. You're too distracted. Plus, you've been talking about her more than you realize."

"Shut up, Cara," he muttered, a slight blush creeping up his neck. But deep down, he knew she might be right.

As Cara continued to chatter about her plans for the gala, Allan felt the familiar weight of uncertainty settling back into his chest, intertwining with the lingering thoughts of Ariel. The evening had only just begun, but he sensed it would lead him down a path he couldn't yet comprehend.