Game oN

Zara's thumbs moved with practiced precision, eyes locked on the glowing screen in front of her. The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue hue of her gaming setup. Her headset was snug over her ears, drowning out the world beyond the screen.

"Cover me," she whispered into the mic, ducking behind digital rubble as her avatar reloaded.

A beat of silence. Then, chaos.

Gunfire, shouting, the crack of an explosion—Zara was in the zone. The weekend had officially begun, and she had no plans of leaving her room unless her PC caught fire.

Downstairs, her mother's voice floated up faintly.

"Zara! Can you come help me for a minute?"

No answer.

"Zara!"

Still nothing. Zara remained laser-focused, the music of the game pounding through her headphones. She didn't even flinch.

Another voice crackled through her headset—her teammate. "Z, behind you!"

Too late. Her screen lit up in red as her character went down. She groaned, tossing her head back dramatically.

From outside her door, her mum knocked—sharp and impatient.

Zara yanked off one side of her headphones, annoyed. "What?!"

"Help me bring in the groceries, please. You've been in there all day."

Zara sighed, muting her mic. "Fine. Be right there."

She looked back at her screen, tempted to finish the match.

But as she moved to stand up, something strange caught her eye. A flicker. A brief distortion. Her screen shimmered for half a second—then returned to normal.

Zara stared at it, brow furrowed.

"…Weird."

Zara made her way downstairs, dragging her feet just enough to make a point. The smell of garlic and something buttery drifted through the house, making her stomach grumble despite her mood.

Her mum was already busy in the kitchen, unpacking grocery bags and flipping something in a pan with practiced ease.

"Took you long enough," her mum said over her shoulder. "Can you rinse those vegetables and start cutting them?"

Zara didn't respond—just rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

They moved around each other in silence for a while. It wasn't tense exactly, but something felt off. Her mum kept glancing her way like she wanted to say something but didn't know how to start.

Finally, as Zara was slicing a bell pepper, her mum cleared her throat.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said carefully.

Zara paused, knife hovering mid-air. "Okay…"

"We're moving."

Zara blinked. "Moving where?"

"A town outside the city. I got a new job—better hours, better pay. We'll be leaving next weekend."

Zara stared at her. "Next weekend? Are you serious?"

"I know it's sudden. I was going to wait until dinner to tell you, but... you deserve to know."

"What about school? My friends? Everything is here, Mum."

Her mum softened her voice. "I know. But this is the right thing for us right now. Things haven't been easy. This move… it could give us both a better chance."

Zara didn't say anything. She turned back to the cutting board, eyes burning, hands moving slower than before.

She suddenly wasn't so hungry anymore.

Dinner was quiet.

Zara picked at her food, pushing pasta around her plate without much interest. Her mum tried to make small talk—asked about her game, whether she needed to start packing—but every question felt like static buzzing in Zara's ears.

She finally stood, scraping her barely touched plate into the bin.

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

Her mum sighed. "Zara…"

"I just need some air," she said, already heading for the back door.

The night air hit her like a reset button. Cool, still, and silent—so different from the fast pace of the game, the kitchen, the weight of everything her mum had just dumped on her. She stepped onto the porch and sat on the edge of the wooden steps, staring up at the dark sky. A plane blinked overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

She hated this.

Not just the move—but the suddenness of it. Like no one even thought to ask how she felt. Like her life could be packed up and driven away in a cardboard box without her permission.

Her phone buzzed in her hoodie pocket. A message from Remi lit up the screen.

Remi:

Yo, you just disappeared. Everything good?

Zara hesitated, then typed back quickly:

Zara:

Not really. We're moving next week. Mum just told me.

A few seconds passed.

Remi:

Wait, what? Like, MOVING moving? Out of the city??

Zara:

Yeah.

Remi:

Dude. That sucks.

She stared at the screen, thumbs hovering, unsure how to reply. What could she even say?

Before she could decide, the back door creaked open. Her mum stepped out, holding two mugs of hot chocolate.

"I figured you could use this," she said, offering one out.

Zara took it silently.

They sat side by side for a moment, steam rising from their cups.

"I know this is hard," her mum said quietly. "I didn't want to spring it on you like this, but... it all happened so fast. The job, the house, everything."

Zara kept her eyes on her mug. "Feels like you already made the decision without me."

Her mum nodded slowly. "You're right. I should've talked to you first."

More silence.

Zara let out a breath. "Can I at least bring my setup?"

Her mum smiled faintly. "Of course. I don't think we'd survive if you didn't."

Zara gave a half-smile, the first real one all evening.

The next morning, Zara felt like she was moving in slow motion. The weight of everything hung over her like a thick fog, and it made getting out of bed feel like a chore. She didn't bother to fix her hair, just threw on a hoodie and grabbed her bag before heading out the door.

The bus ride was uneventful, the usual buzz of voices and phone screens filling the space around her. Zara kept her head down, staring out the window as the city passed by, feeling more and more distant with each passing minute.

When she got to school, she found Remi and Lila by their lockers. Remi spotted her first and raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, what's up? You look like someone just stole your lunch money."

Zara gave a short, hollow laugh. "Worse. My mum's making us move."

Lila, who was usually more reserved, frowned. "Wait, move? Like, out of town?"

"Yeah," Zara muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Some small town outside the city. We leave this weekend."

Remi's face fell. "That's... wow. I mean, what about school? What about us?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," Zara replied, voice tight. "But it's happening. My mum got a new job, and everything just... shifted. She didn't even ask me."

Lila's expression softened. "That sucks, Zara. I can't believe you're just leaving like that."

"I'm not just leaving," Zara snapped before she could stop herself. "I don't even want to go."

Remi put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we're gonna stay in touch, right? You know we'll visit you."

Zara's throat tightened. "It's not the same. I won't be here. I won't be able to just meet up after school or... hang out."

Lila gave her a quick hug. "I know, but we'll make it work. I mean, maybe we can come visit or something, right?"

Zara nodded absently. She wasn't sure if she believed it, but it was all she could hold on to.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Teachers droned on, friends chatted, but it felt like Zara was moving in a separate world, not fully present. Every part of her was already at home, trying to process the move, trying to figure out how to say goodbye to the life she'd known.

By the end of the day, as the bell rang and students flooded out of the school, Zara found herself standing by the gates alone, staring out at the city she was about to leave behind.

She caught a glimpse of Remi and Lila waving from a distance, but didn't join them. Instead, she just kept walking, feeling the weight of everything press down on her.

That night, she packed in silence, just her and her thoughts, as the world outside grew darker and quieter. She didn't have much time.

Saturday morning came faster than she'd hoped. As Zara and her mum loaded the car, she caught a final look at her room—her gaming setup, her posters, the small space she'd called her own for so long.

When they hit the road, Zara didn't look back. The city grew smaller behind them as they headed toward the unknown, the new house, the new life.

It was happening, whether she was ready or not.

The drive was long, marked by the hum of tires and the occasional song playing softly through the radio. Zara sat curled in the passenger seat, hoodie up, earbuds in, staring out at the blur of trees and unfamiliar roads. Her mum had tried to make conversation a few times, but gave up when Zara's answers were one-syllable and flat.

They reached the new town just as the sun began to dip, casting the houses in gold and shadow. Everything looked too neat, too quiet. The streets were lined with trimmed hedges and mailboxes that all looked like they came from the same catalogue. It made her skin itch.

Their new house was a two-story thing with a pale blue front and a squeaky porch. Her mum parked the car in the driveway and let out a relieved sigh.

"We're here," she said with a weak smile.

Zara didn't respond. She just opened the car door and grabbed her bag.

The inside of the house was clean but smelled like fresh paint and someone else's memories. Boxes were stacked in corners, and the furniture looked borrowed from a Pinterest board. Zara headed straight upstairs and found her new room—smaller than her old one, but with a window that faced a field of trees.

She dropped her bag and flopped on the bed with a loud thud, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. It didn't.

Hours passed. Her mum called her down for dinner, but Zara didn't move. Her phone buzzed once—Remi again.

Remi:

You okay? Did you make it?

Zara:

Yeah. Barely. Feels like the middle of nowhere.

Remi:

You'll be alright. Send me a pic of your new setup when it's ready.

Zara:

Sure.

She put the phone down and closed her eyes. Sleep came reluctantly.

---

The next morning, Zara woke to the sound of birds and—of all things—roosters. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her face. Country life, apparently, didn't believe in alarms.

Eventually, she dragged herself out of bed and decided to start unpacking. Piece by piece, her gaming gear came out of the boxes, each one like a small comfort in an unfamiliar world. By noon, her PC was up, her monitor glowing softly in her dim room.

She booted it up and logged in, fingers itching for distraction. She joined a lobby, recognizing a few online friends immediately.

"Yo, Zara?" Remi's voice came through her headset.

"I'm on," she said with a half-smile.

"New town, same sweatlord," Remi teased.

They dove into a game, Zara falling back into the rhythm like she never left. For a while, she forgot about the move, the new house, the unfamiliar walls. It was just her and the screen, the sound of gunfire, strategy, and laughter.

But midway through the match, something strange happened again.

A flicker.

Like before, the screen shimmered for half a second—barely noticeable, but enough to catch her attention.

"…Remi? Did your screen just glitch?"

"Nope. Running smooth. You lagging?"

"No, it's not lag. It's like… something's in the game."

"What do you mean?"

Zara frowned. "Nothing. Probably just tired."

But deep down, she wasn't so sure.

Because this time, the shimmer left behind something odd—an unfamiliar symbol in the corner of her screen. Something that hadn't been there before.

She leaned in closer, squinting. It looked like… a rose?

White. Flickering.

Zara sat back slowly, chills crawling down her spine.

What the hell was that?

Zara shut down her game and slid off the headset, rubbing her temples. Her room was still a mess—boxes half-unpacked, wires tangled across the desk. With a sigh, she stood and stretched, glancing toward the window where the afternoon sun was starting to dip lower behind the trees.

She could hear the muffled sounds of her mum moving around downstairs—drawers opening, boxes shifting, the occasional frustrated mutter.

Zara grabbed an empty mug from her desk and headed down.

Her mum was in the kitchen, struggling to lift a box labeled Dishes + Misc. She looked up, surprised. "Hey. Thought you were hibernating."

"Changed my mind," Zara said. "Need help?"

Her mum smiled, tired but grateful. "Yeah. I'm trying to figure out where half this stuff even goes."

Zara walked over and started opening cabinets, clearing space while her mum unwrapped mugs and plates. They worked quietly at first, then fell into an easy rhythm—passing things back and forth, swapping shelf ideas, laughing when they discovered three different can openers.

The house was still unfamiliar, still too neat and perfect, but with each thing they unpacked, it started to feel a little more real. More theirs.

By the time they finished the kitchen, Zara had dust on her sleeves and her mum had her hair in a messy bun that looked more chaotic than practical.

"Pizza?" her mum offered, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "No way I'm cooking tonight."

Zara nodded. "As long as it's not pineapple."

"You and your pineapple vendetta," her mum teased, reaching for her phone.

Later, while they waited for the delivery, they moved to the living room. Zara helped her mum shift the coffee table into place, then fluffed a few tired-looking cushions onto the couch.

"This place isn't so bad," her mum said after a moment. "Different, yeah. But we'll get there."

Zara didn't say anything right away. She looked around at the boxes still stacked along the walls, the half-hung curtains, the quiet street outside the window.

"Yeah," she said softly. "We will."

And for the first time since they left, she almost believed it.