The Boy I Crashed Into

Chapter Five – Lines Drawn

Luca's POV

I came downstairs rubbing sleep from my eyes, the broken camera still sitting on my desk upstairs like a warning. Voices floated out from the dining room—Dad’s sharp tone cutting through the morning quiet.

“…that old complaint has resurfaced,” Dad was saying. “Two years old, same rubbish about yellow smoke and children coughing. Now someone’s asking questions again. Sharma’s name keeps coming up. I want it dealt with quietly.”

Mum’s voice was calmer. “It’s probably nothing. Just locals grumbling.”

“Nothing?” Dad’s chair scraped back. “The new permits are under review next month. I won’t have teenagers or ex-workers stirring trouble right now. We pay good money to keep these things buried. Handle the complaints, lean on the right people, and make sure Sharma stays silent.”

My stomach knotted. School kids. Ex-workers. They were talking about us—about Sophia’s project. I stood frozen on the last step for a second, then forced myself to walk in normally.

“Morning,” I said, heading straight for the toast.

Dad glanced up, still frowning at his phone. “Luca. You’re early.”

“Just school stuff,” I muttered, grabbing a plate. Mum slid some eggs toward me, but the tension in the room made the food taste like cardboard. They switched topics to some business dinner, but I kept replaying Dad’s words. Yesterday’s visit to Mrs. Patel had already reached them. This wasn’t some harmless group assignment anymore. Sophia was pushing into something that could actually hurt my family.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out under the table.

Sophia: *Don’t forget. Mr. Sharma today. 4:30 after school. Riya has extra questions ready. You still in?*

I stared at the screen. Part of me wanted to reply *No, drop it*. Tell them I was busy, sick, anything. Instead my thumbs moved on their own. *Yeah. See you at the gate.*

Caught right in the middle. One world at this table where Dad expected loyalty. Another with the girl who crashed into me yesterday and refused to back down.

School was a blur. I dodged Sophia and Riya between classes, burying myself in notes I didn’t care about. But I still caught her in the hallway once, laughing at something Riya said, that same determined spark in her eyes. She spotted me and gave a small wave. I nodded back, chest tight. She had no clue how close she was stepping to real danger.

By the final bell I was already at the gate, hands in my pockets. Sophia and Riya showed up a minute later. Sophia’s rehearsal bag had fresh gold petals stuck to it again.

“Ready?” she asked, falling into step beside me. “Mr. Sharma might actually give us the proof we need.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “He might not even talk.”

Riya walked between us, notebook out. “After what Mrs. Patel said, I bet he knows everything. Maintenance guy? He’s seen the inside.”

The walk felt heavier today. The narrow lanes were still damp, that chemical bite in the air stronger than usual. Sophia stayed close, her arm brushing mine once when we dodged a puddle. That same stupid spark hit me again. I shifted away slightly.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” she said after a while. “Everything alright at home?”

“Yeah. Just… family stuff.” The half-lie tasted bitter. “Nothing big.”

She studied me for a second but didn’t push. “Well, thanks for coming anyway. I know you think this is risky.”

We reached Mr. Sharma’s small concrete house near the old water tank. The curtains were drawn tight. I knocked. Nothing. Knocked again, louder. Silence.

Riya tried peering through a side window. “Maybe he’s out for the evening?”

“Or he heard we were coming,” I said, relief flooding through me even as guilt twisted harder. “We should head back. Try again some other time.”

Sophia looked disappointed but nodded. “Yeah. Maybe after rehearsal tomorrow. At least we have Mrs. Patel’s info.”

We turned to leave when my phone rang. Driver. “Your father wants you home right away, sir.”

“Now?” My voice came out tighter than I wanted.

“Yes. He said immediately.”

I told the girls it was some family thing. Sophia gave me that small, stubborn smile. “Text if you hear anything about Sharma. We’ll figure this out.”

I watched them walk off, then climbed into the SUV. The drive home was too fast. Dad was waiting in his study, door open, laptop glowing in front of him.

“Close the door. Sit.”

I sat, heart pounding.

“I heard you’re part of some school project on the factory,” he said flatly, eyes finally lifting to mine. “Pollution, health effects, the usual story. Group assignment.”

I froze. I hadn’t told a single person at home about it. Not Mum, not the nanny, nobody.

“How—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dad cut in. “We have eyes and ears all over this town. People who know better than to let nonsense spread. Drop it, Luca. Pick another topic. I don’t want your name connected to any of this. Understood?”

I swallowed hard. “Understood.”

He leaned back, satisfied. “Good. You’re smarter than that. Focus on your studies and that photography hobby. Leave the real world problems to me.”

I nodded and left the study, legs heavy. Upstairs in my room I shut the door and dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The company logo from that old complaint burned in my mind. Sophia’s excited face when she showed me the folder. The way she’d teased me about dramatic photographers. Mr. Sharma conveniently missing. Dad knowing everything without me saying a word.

This had gone from a simple group project to something much bigger in less than two days. Sophia wasn’t backing down, and now my family was watching. I was supposed to steer her away, protect the factory, protect them. But every time I looked at her, the guilt got worse.

I pulled out my phone and stared at our last messages. Part of me wanted to warn her to stop. The smarter part knew that would only make her dig harder.

I tossed the phone aside and rubbed my face. This was going to blow up. And I was stuck in the exact middle, trying to keep both sides from destroying each other.

For now, I had to play along. Slow them down. Lie better. But deep down I already knew it wouldn’t be enough. Sophia had crashed into more than just my camera—she was crashing into everything I was supposed to protect.e downstairs rubbing sleep from my eyes, the broken camera still sitting on my desk upstairs like a warning. Voices floated out from the dining room—Dad’s sharp tone cutting through the morning quiet.

“…that old complaint has resurfaced,” Dad was saying. “Two years old, same rubbish about yellow smoke and children coughing. Now someone’s asking questions again. Sharma’s name keeps coming up. I want it dealt with quietly.”

Mum’s voice was calmer. “It’s probably nothing. Just locals grumbling.”

“Nothing?” Dad’s chair scraped back. “The new permits are under review next month. I won’t have teenagers or ex-workers stirring trouble right now. We pay good money to keep these things buried. Handle the complaints, lean on the right people, and make sure Sharma stays silent.”

My stomach knotted. School kids. Ex-workers. They were talking about us—about Sophia’s project. I stood frozen on the last step for a second, then forced myself to walk in normally.

“Morning,” I said, heading straight for the toast.

Dad glanced up, still frowning at his phone. “Luca. You’re early.”

“Just school stuff,” I muttered, grabbing a plate. Mum slid some eggs toward me, but the tension in the room made the food taste like cardboard. They switched topics to some business dinner, but I kept replaying Dad’s words. Yesterday’s visit to Mrs. Patel had already reached them. This wasn’t some harmless group assignment anymore. Sophia was pushing into something that could actually hurt my family.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out under the table.

Sophia: *Don’t forget. Mr. Sharma today. 4:30 after school. Riya has extra questions ready. You still in?*

I stared at the screen. Part of me wanted to reply *No, drop it*. Tell them I was busy, sick, anything. Instead my thumbs moved on their own. *Yeah. See you at the gate.*

Caught right in the middle. One world at this table where Dad expected loyalty. Another with the girl who crashed into me yesterday and refused to back down.

School was a blur. I dodged Sophia and Riya between classes, burying myself in notes I didn’t care about. But I still caught her in the hallway once, laughing at something Riya said, that same determined spark in her eyes. She spotted me and gave a small wave. I nodded back, chest tight. She had no clue how close she was stepping to real danger.

By the final bell I was already at the gate, hands in my pockets. Sophia and Riya showed up a minute later. Sophia’s rehearsal bag had fresh gold petals stuck to it again.

“Ready?” she asked, falling into step beside me. “Mr. Sharma might actually give us the proof we need.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “He might not even talk.”

Riya walked between us, notebook out. “After what Mrs. Patel said, I bet he knows everything. Maintenance guy? He’s seen the inside.”

The walk felt heavier today. The narrow lanes were still damp, that chemical bite in the air stronger than usual. Sophia stayed close, her arm brushing mine once when we dodged a puddle. That same stupid spark hit me again. I shifted away slightly.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” she said after a while. “Everything alright at home?”

“Yeah. Just… family stuff.” The half-lie tasted bitter. “Nothing big.”

She studied me for a second but didn’t push. “Well, thanks for coming anyway. I know you think this is risky.”

We reached Mr. Sharma’s small concrete house near the old water tank. The curtains were drawn tight. I knocked. Nothing. Knocked again, louder. Silence.

Riya tried peering through a side window. “Maybe he’s out for the evening?”

“Or he heard we were coming,” I said, relief flooding through me even as guilt twisted harder. “We should head back. Try again some other time.”

Sophia looked disappointed but nodded. “Yeah. Maybe after rehearsal tomorrow. At least we have Mrs. Patel’s info.”

We turned to leave when my phone rang. Driver. “Your father wants you home right away, sir.”

“Now?” My voice came out tighter than I wanted.

“Yes. He said immediately.”

I told the girls it was some family thing. Sophia gave me that small, stubborn smile. “Text if you hear anything about Sharma. We’ll figure this out.”

I watched them walk off, then climbed into the SUV. The drive home was too fast. Dad was waiting in his study, door open, laptop glowing in front of him.

“Close the door. Sit.”

I sat, heart pounding.

“I heard you’re part of some school project on the factory,” he said flatly, eyes finally lifting to mine. “Pollution, health effects, the usual story. Group assignment.”

I froze. I hadn’t told a single person at home about it. Not Mum, not the nanny, nobody.

“How—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dad cut in. “We have eyes and ears all over this town. People who know better than to let nonsense spread. Drop it, Luca. Pick another topic. I don’t want your name connected to any of this. Understood?”

I swallowed hard. “Understood.”

He leaned back, satisfied. “Good. You’re smarter than that. Focus on your studies and that photography hobby. Leave the real world problems to me.”

I nodded and left the study, legs heavy. Upstairs in my room I shut the door and dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The company logo from that old complaint burned in my mind. Sophia’s excited face when she showed me the folder. The way she’d teased me about dramatic photographers. Mr. Sharma conveniently missing. Dad knowing everything without me saying a word.

This had gone from a simple group project to something much bigger in less than two days. Sophia wasn’t backing down, and now my family was watching. I was supposed to steer her away, protect the factory, protect them. But every time I looked at her, the guilt got worse.

I pulled out my phone and stared at our last messages. Part of me wanted to warn her to stop. The smarter part knew that would only make her dig harder.

I tossed the phone aside and rubbed my face. This was going to blow up. And I was stuck in the exact middle, trying to keep both sides from destroying each other.