Shadows By The Poolside

The night air shimmered with the soft glow of golden lanterns strung along the backyard fence, their reflections trembling across the pool’s still surface. Music drifted from inside the house—low, warm, and threaded with laughter—while the scent of grilled chicken and spice lingered beneath the darkening sky. It was a night meant for celebration, but Arielle Thompson felt nothing festive in the tight knot twisting beneath her ribs. She stood at the pool’s edge, the water’s faint ripples catching the moonlight in broken shards. Her reflection looked fragile, almost unfamiliar—eyes slightly puffy from frustration, cheeks flushed with leftover anger, lips pressed into a thin line. She wrapped her arms around herself and inhaled deeply, trying to steady the tidal wave of emotion crashing through her chest. The argument still echoed in her ears. She couldn’t believe Bryson had actually tried that—not tonight, not after everything. She had seen him drunk before, careless and loud, but this time had felt different. More desperate. More unfair. And the worst part was that she hated how the memory made her feel—confused, guilty, irritated, and exhausted all at once. This wasn’t how she imagined tonight would go. Voices drifted faintly from the house—Noah laughing with a couple of cousins, Maxwell speaking calmly to someone, Bryson complaining about something she couldn’t make out. Their lives, their noise, their world…it all continued behind her while she stood outside alone, pretending the chill settling into her bones wasn’t affecting her. She exhaled and let her gaze loosen from the water, lifting to the night sky. Stars pricked the darkness like tiny needles. The moon lay hidden behind a thin veil of cloud, casting only a muted glow over the yard. Everything looked peaceful, serene, untouched by the tension stirring just beneath the surface. Arielle blinked slowly, letting the silence spread through her. But the quiet didn’t comfort her. It felt too heavy. Too thick. All day, little things had felt off. Bryson’s mood. Noah’s distracted expression. Maxwell’s worried glances. Even the atmosphere at the party had carried a weight she couldn’t place. Maybe she was imagining it. Maybe she was overthinking. Or maybe something was wrong—deeply, undeniably wrong—and she had simply been too caught up in the celebration to notice it clearly. A sudden gust rustled through the garden, brushing against her hair. The pool’s surface shifted, scattering her reflection into distorted fragments. She shivered. Her phone buzzed inside her pocket. She didn’t look at it yet. Instead, she let her eyes slide closed, breathing in the cool night air. She wished she could rewind time—just a few hours, maybe even a few minutes—back to before everything had started unraveling. Back when she had been laughing with Noah in the kitchen, when Maxwell had teased her about staying up too late studying, when Bryson had seemed almost normal. But she couldn’t undo any of it. Not the argument. Not the tears burning in her eyes afterward. Not the shock of Bryson’s drunken, stumbling attempt to kiss her. Not the sting on her hand after she slapped him in reflexive anger and disgust. Not the look in his eyes—hurt, furious, wounded. And definitely not the fallout that followed. Her phone vibrated again. With a sigh, she pulled it out. Bryson. Again. She hesitated. A part of her wanted to ignore him entirely. She wasn’t ready for an apology—not if he didn’t mean it, and certainly not if he planned to twist her reaction against her the way he sometimes did. Another part of her wondered if Maxwell had forced him to call. It would be something Maxwell would do—try to fix things before they shattered permanently. He always tried to keep the group together, always tried to protect all of them. Even when it was exhausting. Arielle’s thumb hovered over the answer button, but she didn’t press it. Not yet. The phone fell silent. She slipped it back into her pocket and took another slow breath. Maybe she needed more time. Maybe Bryson needed more time. Maybe they all did. Tonight had spiraled too quickly for any of them to settle into reason. “Get it together,” she whispered to herself. But the moment she spoke, she realized how hollow her voice sounded. Somewhere nearby—just beyond the row of tall hedges lining the poolside—she heard faint murmurs. Two voices. Unclear. Muffled. Almost like the indistinct hum of a conversation someone didn’t want overheard. Her body tensed. She glanced toward the hedges, but she couldn’t see anyone. Only deep shadow. Only darkness. The voices continued—low, quiet, too soft to separate into words. Something about the tone prickled at her skin: secretive, tense, almost cruel. She stepped slightly closer to the hedge, careful not to make noise. Curiosity tugged at her, sharp and uneasy. Another whisper. A deeper voice. A faint chuckle—cold, mirthless. Arielle froze. It wasn’t what they said—it was what she felt. Something unsettling pressed at her chest, like she was intruding on something dangerous. Something she wasn’t meant to hear. She swallowed, tried to calm herself, and leaned in just slightly— Her phone rang again. The sudden sound jolted her violently. She stumbled backward, her shoe slipping on the damp stone tile. The phone glowed in her hand, Bryson’s name flashing insistently across the screen. The voices behind the hedge went silent. Arielle’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She glanced between the phone and the shadows, pulse racing. Whoever had been whispering—they had definitely heard her. But now there was nothing. No sound. No movement. Only silence. She swallowed hard, pressed her hand to her racing heart, and answered the call with trembling fingers. “Hello?” she whispered. “Elle—hey…” Bryson’s voice slurred faintly, though less than before. “Can we talk? Please? I…I didn’t mean to—” Arielle kept her eyes on the hedge, her body tense. “Bryson, this is not—this isn’t the time.” “No, just—listen. I shouldn’t have done that. I messed up. I know I did.” His breath hitched. “Can you just come inside? We can sort it out. I don’t want you angry at me.” She clenched her jaw. “I’m not angry. I’m tired. I need space.” “Elle—” “Bryson, please.” Her voice cracked. “Just let it go for tonight.” He fell silent. A heartbeat stretched into two. “Okay,” he finally murmured. “Okay. But I’m sorry. Really.” Arielle stared at the hedge, searching the shadows for any sign of movement. There was none. “I’ll talk to you later,” she whispered. She hung up. For a moment, everything remained still—the pool’s soft ripple, the gentle hum of the party from inside, the dark outline of the hedge. She felt her heartbeat slow, if only slightly. Then she took a small step back. And her heel slipped again. Not on water this time—but on something slick. A wet patch she hadn’t noticed. Her arms flailed, trying to catch her balance, but her foot slid forward, and the world tilted sideways. “Wait—!” Her voice choked off as gravity yanked her downward. The phone flew from her hand, clattering against the stone. She tried to grab the edge of the pool, fingers grasping at air, but she caught only cold emptiness. She hit the water with a sharp splash. The cold stunned her—icy shock shooting through every limb. She flailed instinctively, but the panic rising inside her drowned every logical thought. Her dress pulled heavily, tangling around her legs. Her hair clouded her vision. The water pressed against her ears, muffling the world into hollow echoes. She kicked up, reaching desperately for the surface, but her foot caught something on the pool floor—someone’s forgotten float toy, maybe a weight, she couldn’t tell. Pain shot up her ankle. Her lungs burned. She tried again, pushing upward, fingertips brushing the air above the water—but her strength faltered. The world flickered in wavering blue light. Bubbles escaped her lips in a frantic burst as she sank back down. Above her, the pool lights blurred into trembling halos. The water swallowed her. Everything grew dim. Muffled. Far away. Her last thought wasn’t fear. It was Maxwell’s soft smile earlier that evening. Noah’s warm laugh as he teased her. Bryson’s broken apology. And then— Darkness. The pool rippled once, then fell still, the surface smoothing over as if nothing at all had disturbed it. The shadows around the hedge remained silent. Watching. Waiting. Unseen. Unspoken. The night carried on.