ZOE

I step through the front door to find Amy and her parents lounging in our sitting room like they own the place. Amy's laughter rings out as she shows my mother something on her phone, while Uncle David and Aunt Claire chat with Mom about some gossip from town. For a moment, watching them, anyone would think Amy was the real daughter of this house.

The second I appear, though, everything changes. Mom's attention snaps to me, her face creasing with worry as she takes in my disheveled appearance.

"Zoe, sweetheart, what happened? You look terrible, did something go wrong at the academy?"

Before I can answer, Amy springs up from the couch, rushing over with that practiced expression of concern she's perfected over the years.

"Oh no, Zoe, did Chris hurt your feelings again?" She reaches out as if to touch my arm, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I knew I shouldn't have suggested you confess publicly. I thought maybe this time would be different..."

The words hit me like ice water. Amy suggested the public confession. Of course, she did.

All those late-night conversations where I poured my heart out to Amy about Chris. How desperately I wanted him to notice me, to care about me the way I cared about him. Amy had listened with such understanding, offering advice that always seemed so thoughtful.

"You should be more direct, Zoe. Boys like Chris need grand gestures."

"Maybe if you showed him how much you care in front of everyone, he'd finally see your sincerity."

Every piece of advice designed to make me look desperate. Every suggestion calculated to push Chris further away.

I shared everything with Amy—my hopes, my fears, my foolish plans to win over a man who would never love me. I treated her like the sister I never had.

And she used every confidence against me.

I step back from Amy's reaching hands, my expression hardening. "Don't touch me."

Amy's eyes widen in surprise, but I see the flash of satisfaction beneath her hurt expression. She's enjoying this.

"Zoe, I was just trying to—"

"Trying to what? Console me after your brilliant advice humiliated me in front of half the academy?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Amy's family has been guests in our home for quite long enough. Perhaps it's time you found your own place."

The temperature in the room drops several degrees. Aunt Claire's face flushed red with indignation.

"Zoe!" she snaps. "How dare you speak to your elders that way? We're family!"

"Are we?" I meet her glare steadily. "Because family doesn't usually overstay their welcome for months on end."

David pushes himself up from his chair, his expression darkening. "We have shown you nothing but kindness, and this is how you repay us? By trying to throw us out like common beggars?"

"I'm simply suggesting that perhaps you've imposed on my parents' hospitality long enough—"

The front door opens, cutting off my words. Dad's voice carries from the entryway as he calls out a greeting. Heavy footsteps approach, and then Dad appears in the doorway, still in his work clothes. His gaze sweeps the room, taking in the tense atmosphere and my disheveled state.

"What's going on here?" His voice carries that edge it gets when he senses conflict.

David immediately launches into an indignant explanation. "Brother, your daughter just told us we should leave! After all we've done for this family, all the gratitude we've shown—this is how she treats us!"

Claire nods vigorously. "Disrespecting her elders, showing no regard for family bonds. We never expected such cruelty from Zoe."

Dad's frown deepens as he looks at me. I could see the disappointment gathering in his eyes, the familiar look that always appeared when I'd embarrassed the family somehow. His mouth opens, ready to deliver another lecture about respect and proper behavior.

In my past life, this man died because of me. Because I was too blind to see the enemies living under our own roof. Because I trusted the wrong people and destroyed everything he'd worked for.

And here he is, alive and strong and about to scold me for finally speaking the truth.

The tears come without warning. A sob tears from my throat as I launch myself across the room and into his arms.

"Dad!"

His surprise gives way to immediate concern as he wraps his arms around me, one hand stroking my hair while I sob against his chest.

"What's wrong? Did someone hurt you?" His voice turns sharp, protective.