Zayne’s POV
That evening.
My phone lights up on the dashboard just as I’m pulling into traffic. For a second I think it’s another useless notification—emails, business updates, something Rico probably sent just to annoy me. But when I glance down, I see her name.
Isla.
The tension sitting in my chest loosens just a fraction. She finally responded. I pick up the phone at the next stoplight.
Isla:
You coming over tonight?
Just that. No emojis or teasing. It’s simple, but something about the message feels… careful.
I type back quickly.
Me:
Yeah.
Then I add:
Give me fifteen minutes.
Three dots appear, disappear, then appear again. Finally her reply comes through.
Isla:
Okay.
That’s it. The light turns green and I put the phone down again, merging into the evening traffic. Seat
