Unwanted Days of HOLY HOLIDAY

NEWSPAPER

Eve’s POV.

““Evelyn? Evelyn?” My uncle’s voice boomed from downstairs before I could even catch a breath.

I froze mid-step, heart skipping. His footsteps pounded up the stairs, deliberate and heavy, echoing through the house. Something must be wrong. My mind raced as I scrambled out of bed, hair falling over my shoulders, to meet him at the door.

By the time I reached it, he was already there, eyes blazing with anger, his presence filling the hallway. In his hand, a newspaper. I noticed the grimace on his face before he even spoke. He shoved the paper toward me, and I caught it reflexively.

The front page screamed at me: a photograph of me holding hands with Zack at the ceremony, the headline bold and unrelenting: “Mr. MOORE ADDS A FAMILY MEMBER.” The accompanying article was a mix of speculation and questions, questioning whether I was his girlfriend, a fleeting fling, or something else entirely.

I felt my knees weaken. My heart pounded like a drum, and a faint wave of nausea threatened to sweep over me. My uncle stared at me, his expression a mix of shock and disapproval. Then, I noticed Aunt standing behind him, quietly observing, her face a mask of calm concern.

“I thought you were going to the party with your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice low but sharp, disbelief etched into every word.

“Honey,” Aunt interjected softly, her tone a gentle buffer against his storm.

I opened my mouth to respond, but my voice felt trapped in my throat. I swallowed hard.

“I’m mesmerized,” he muttered, though there was an odd calm in his words, almost like he was trying to process what he was seeing. His eyes flicked between Aunt and me, lingering on the newspaper as if it burned in his hands.

“We didn’t work out,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Who is he?” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I saw him a few days ago around this area. Who is he, that you can’t even introduce him to us?”

“He’s my teacher. I have no plans to date him anyway. We live in two different worlds,” I explained, keeping my voice steady despite the rising panic in my chest.

My uncle’s hand shot out, grasping mine. The newspaper pressed into my palm didn’t seem to faze him. “You have no idea who he is,” he said, his voice now dark, serious. “That family… Evelyn, they’re dangerous.”

“He is a good person,” I protested, forcing my experience with Zack into my words.

“You can’t meet someone in a day and judge their personality,” he snapped, though his eyes betrayed the tension he felt, the urgency beneath his tone.

“I’ve been with him in Guentemalla,” I shot back, frustration bubbling over.

“Eve?” His face softened, almost instantly returning to calm. “Listen to me, okay?”

I stared at him, wary, silent.

“If only you knew about his family, you wouldn’t want to cross paths with him,” he warned, the weight of his words heavy and uncompromising.

“What do you mean?” I asked skeptically, my heart hammering in my chest.

“You were never meant to—no, I mean—you two are never to see each other again,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“I said we were never going to date,” I reminded him, keeping my voice steady despite the fear knotting in my stomach.

“Eve? Why aren’t you getting it?” He snapped, the tension in his voice sharp as he released my hands.

“Honey?” Aunt called softly again, trying to diffuse the situation, her voice gentle amidst the storm.

“How am I supposed to get it? You’ve explained nothing!” I shouted, frustration and confusion spilling over. I barely registered Aunt’s presence, my focus solely on him.

“There is nothing to explain. Just listen to me,” he roared. His voice carried authority and finality, and I could feel it vibrating in my chest.

“If you are going to tell me to stop seeing him, you must tell me what’s behind him. I deserve to know,” I shot back, my voice trembling slightly despite my attempts at control.

“Come on, you two,” Aunt stepped in, trying to shield the situation from escalating further.

“You’re not going to just order me around like a baby, are you?” I snapped again, anger mingling with fear.

“That’s final,” he concluded, walking away, leaving me stunned and confused. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Aunt reached over, patting my shoulder gently. “Allow me to meet him, okay?” she whispered.

I nodded silently, still processing, as they both left. I closed the door behind me and groaned, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. What the hell did I get myself into? My uncle had never acted this way toward a friend—or anyone—before.

I paced the room, my mind racing, before scanning the dresser and study table for my phone. I found it and quickly dialed Zack. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“You didn’t tell me you were famous in this world too?” I snapped, sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to calm the storm in my chest.

“You really can’t start a conversation properly,” he replied casually, his tone teasing yet familiar.

I rolled my eyes, fully aware he couldn’t see me. “What is it?”

“The newspaper,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

“That’s nothing,” he replied nonchalantly.

“To you, maybe. Not to my dearest guardians,” I countered, narrowing my eyes as if he could see me, judging my words.

“Does that mean you’re okay with it?”

What? Did it matter to me? Not at all. Seeing myself with him on the front page didn’t bother me. It was the reactions—the judgment, the fear from those who cared for me—that gnawed at me. I gave the photograph a quick glance. We looked fine together, didn’t we?

“No. I didn’t say that. You’ll have to explain that to me,” he said, chuckling lightly. Of course he has everything planned.

“I bet they want to meet me. I want to meet them too. I’ll take you from your interview tomorrow. We’ll do it then,” he added, decisively.

I was speechless. He really did have the whole thing orchestrated. “Are you there?” he called again.

“Yes. Uh… okay,” I stammered.

“And the newspaper? That means you have additional questions in your interview tomorrow.”

Thank God he reminded me. “And how am I supposed to reply to that?”

“Anything that will leave them clueless. Leave them hanging,” he instructed calmly.

“And why should I do that exactly?”

“Anything you say will affect one of us—today, tomorrow, or even ten years from now. The media never forgets. Not a word.”

I didn’t fully understand, but the weight in his voice was enough to make me agree. “Okay,” I said quietly, and the line went dead.

I sat back on the edge of my bed, staring at the newspaper on my lap, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. My heart was still racing, thoughts colliding: the image of me with Zack splashed across the front page, my uncle’s warning ringing in my ears, and the unrelenting pull I felt toward him.

I felt trapped between worlds—the ordinary life I had always known, and the dangerous, intoxicating orbit Zack seemed to pull me into. The newspaper was more than just paper; it was a symbol of everything I didn’t understand, a warning I couldn’t ignore, and yet a temptation I couldn’t resist.

As I sat there, trying to steady my breathing, I realized something: this was just the beginning. Whatever I was stepping into, it wasn’t going to be simple. And yet, somewhere deep inside, I couldn’t wait to find out what came next.