The Last Holiday

Episode Two: Cracks Beneath the Ride

Episode Two: Cracks Beneath the Ride

The car hummed softly as Dylan drove through the quiet morning streets, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually by his side. Amara sat beside him, staring out the window, her face tight with emotion.

“My house is a mess,” she suddenly said, her voice sharp with pain. “All they do is fight and shout. There’s no love, no peace—just chaos every single day.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder why they even got married when they clearly don’t love themselves, not to talk of loving each other.”

She kept talking, pouring out years of frustration, anger, and loneliness. Dylan didn’t interrupt. He only nodded now and then, letting her words fill the car.

After a while, he broke the silence.

“Yours is even better,” he said calmly. “The last time I saw my parents was two months ago. And guess what? They don’t even call to check up on me.” He shrugged. “But that’s their problem. Me? I’m enjoying my life.”

He glanced at her and smiled. “Babe, you just have to forget they exist. Yes, they gave birth to us, but that’s all. We owe it to ourselves to live. I love you, and I’m always here for you—no matter what. We’ve got each other. We’re meant to be.”

As he spoke, his voice soft with promises, the car slowed slightly. Dylan’s attention drifted to a girl walking by the roadside—a pretty girl from their school.

“Hey, hottie,” he called out suddenly, leaning out a bit. “Hop in, let me give you a ride.”

Amara froze.

The girl, Claudia, smiled and hurried toward the car—until her eyes landed on Amara sitting comfortably in the front seat. Her smile vanished instantly. Claudia’s face went pale.

“Oh—sorry,” she muttered quickly and ran off without another word. Everyone knew Amara Kingsley—the prettiest, meanest girl in school. No one wanted to be on her bad side.

Amara slowly turned to Dylan, her eyes cold.

“Have you no shame?” she snapped. “How dare you flirt when I’m sitting right here beside you?”

Dylan’s heart skipped. He knew he had crossed a line.

“Lovie, relax,” he said quickly. “It was a joke. I just wanted to see your reaction—change the topic a bit.”

Amara sighed deeply, her jaw clenched. “Shut up and drive.”

He did.

At school, Amara sat in class, her body present but her mind far away. Mrs. Hanger’s voice filled the room, but Amara wasn’t listening. She stared blankly ahead, lost in her thoughts.

“Miss Kingsley,” Mrs. Hanger called out sharply.

Amara jerked up. “Yes?”

“Repeat what I just said.”

Amara smirked. “Why should I?” she replied coldly. “Honestly, I’m not interested in whatever lame thing you’re teaching. Just f**k off.”

The classroom fell silent.

Mrs. Hanger’s face flushed with anger. “Get out of my class. Now!”

Amara didn’t argue. She grabbed her bag, feeling relieved, and walked out without looking back.

Amara Kingsley was known for her stubbornness, her rudeness, and the anger that never seemed to fade. She hated almost everyone—except Dylan. And because of that reputation, the entire school learned one rule very early:

Never step on Amara Kingsley’s toes.