ICE BETWEEN US

Chapter 2: Desperation

The alarm blared before the sun had even thought about rising, but she was already moving.

Sleep clung to her in stubborn waves, but there was no time to linger. Her small apartment, or rather the cramped corner of a house she rented from her adoptive parents, demanded attention first. She swung her legs out of bed, shivering at the cold floor, and padded quietly to the kitchen. The scent of last night’s dinner still lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the smell of damp laundry.

She had a routine that left little room for complaints. First, breakfast. She slid eggs into the pan, careful not to let them burn, then boiled water for tea.

Her adoptive brothers would wake soon, and her adoptive mother would be downstairs demanding she move faster. Already, her stomach twisted in nervous anticipation.

“Zara!” Her adoptive mother’s sharp voice sliced through the quiet. “Move it! You think this is a hotel? You’re not paid to stand there daydreaming!”

Zara flinched but kept stirring the eggs, ignoring the sting of humiliation. She had grown accustomed to this. The insults didn’t break her anymore—they were just background noise, like the hum of the refrigerator or the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Her adoptive father sat at the table, reading his newspaper, pretending she didn’t exist. He was always like this, lost in his world, indifferent to the chaos around him.

She had learned long ago that asking for acknowledgement from him was pointless.

“Careful with the toast,” she muttered to herself as she slid slices into the toaster. She hated mornings like this, where every task felt like a race against a storm she couldn’t escape.

And then there were her younger brothers. They were loud, messy, and painfully aware of the power imbalance between them and her.

One of them, her adoptive father’s biological son, lingered in the kitchen, pretending to help but really just waiting for an opportunity to tease.

“Zara,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, “you know, some girls would—”

She stiffened, remembering the crude joke he had made before. She ignored him, focusing on pouring juice into glasses. But he persisted, leaning closer, his smirk growing. “You really think anyone’s going to take care of you like this? You’re hopeless.”

Her hand shook slightly as she handed him the glass. Memories she had long tried to forget flickered unbidden across her mind, the taunts, the shame, the feeling of being small and powerless. She wanted to say something, but words stuck in her throat. She had learned that fighting back rarely ended well.

Finally, she fled the kitchen, heart pounding, and grabbed her bag. She needed the world outside these walls, the campus where she could at least pretend to be invisible or, sometimes, admired.

By the time she got to campus, the sun had risen higher, lighting the stone pathways and familiar lecture halls. Her best friends, Lila and Naomi, were already waiting by the fountain near the student center, waving her over.

“Zara!” Lila called, bouncing on her heels. “Over here!”

“Morning,” Zara said, managing a small smile.

Her friends knew better than anyone how tight things were at home. They had seen her skimp on lunch, skip coffee, and borrow notebooks just to make ends meet.

“You look tired,” Naomi said, eyeing the dark circles under her eyes. “Rough night?”

Zara shrugged. “Same as always.” She didn’t bother explaining. Words about her life at home felt heavy and futile. They would only invite pity, and she hated pity.

Lila leaned in, lowering her voice. “Okay, listen. I heard about this tutoring job. Pays way more than any other student gig. Like, way more. And it’s just a few hours a week.”

Zara’s ears pricked up. Money was exactly what she needed—money for rent, for groceries, for a life she could call her own, free from the constant insults and cold stares at home. “How much?” she asked, hope threading through her voice.

“Enough to finally move out without feeling like you’re living on air,” Lila said with a grin. “You just tutor one student. That’s it.”

She didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. “I’ll take it,” she said. “Where do I sign?”

“You don’t even know who it is,” Naomi said, frowning slightly. “Could be a nightmare.”

“I don’t care,” Zara said, determination hardening her spine. “I need this. I can deal with anyone for a few hours a week.”

Lila laughed, slapping her shoulder. “Good. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Zara left the fountain with the address Lila had texted her, feeling a flutter of nerves mixed with anticipation.

The tutoring office was in a small building near the edge of campus, clean and professional, all glass windows and minimalist furniture.

She paused at the door for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

The receptionist greeted her with a polite smile and directed her to the waiting area. She sat down, pulling her bag onto her lap, trying to steady her hands. A part of her still expected the world to disappoint her, to throw a curveball she couldn’t catch.

Then the door opened.

He walked in.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Confident. Perfect hair, perfect posture, perfect everything.

Zara’s breath caught. She recognized him immediately—the infamous hockey player, the rich, arrogant guy everyone on campus whispered about. The one whose name alone made people roll their eyes or sigh in envy.

Her stomach flipped. The student she was going to tutor… was him.

The receptionist smiled apologetically and gestured toward him. “That’s your student.”

Zara swallowed hard, gripping the strap of her bag as if it could anchor her. She had imagined all sorts of scenarios in her head about this tutoring job, none of which had involved him.

He glanced at her briefly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he already knew something she didn’t. “You’re the tutor?” His voice was smooth, calm, and somehow infuriatingly sure of itself.

“Yes,” Zara said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “I’m… ready to start whenever you are.”

He nodded once, that confident smirk never leaving his face. “Good. Let’s get this over with, then.”

She sat down across from him, her notebook open, pen in hand. And as she watched him lean back in the chair, tossing a pen between his fingers with practiced ease, she realized this was going to be harder than she thought. He was exactly what everyone said he was—arrogant, privileged, untouchable. And now… he was hers to teach.

Zara closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. She needed this job. She needed the money. And no matter how difficult or infuriating he was going to be, she was determined to make it work. Because for the first time in a long time, she could imagine a life that wasn’t defined by insults, by neglect, by being overlooked.

She opened her eyes, and met his.

And something told her this tutoring session was going to change everything.