Almost Siblings

CHAPTER THREE: What If Everything Falls Apart?

Zara’s POV

Dinner with Dad was quiet. Too quiet. Plates clinked against each other, voices low, small smiles exchanged that felt polite but unnatural. My mind refused to settle. Every conversation, every glance, every laugh he tried to offer me bounced off a wall of worry I couldn’t break through.

By the time I went to bed, my thoughts had turned into a storm.

He’s dating Aiden’s mom.

He’s dating Aiden’s mom.

And suddenly, the world felt like it had shifted on its axis. What does that make me? Aiden’s… what? Stepsister? Cousin? Enemy? Ally? A chess piece in a game I never asked to play?

I roll over, hugging my pillow tight. I can’t stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios. What if our parents drag us into some awkward, forced friendship? What if I have to sit next to him at family dinners, smile, nod, and pretend like I don’t want to obliterate him with sheer talent and sheer willpower?

I’m happy that Dad seems… happy. Really happy. That should matter. That should feel like enough.

But it doesn’t.

Because the person Dad’s dating is the one I want to beat. The one I compete with. The one who’s always first when I’m trying my hardest. The one whose very existence makes me push harder, plan smarter, and never relax for even a second.

I don’t want Dad to be in an awkward situation because of me. I don’t want my rivalry to ruin his happiness. But… how do I make sure it doesn’t?

By the time I make it to school, I’m already on edge. Hallways feel longer than they should, lockers are too loud, and every glance down the corridor makes my stomach twist. Then I spot her, Maya, leaning casually against a locker, scrolling through her phone. Relief hits me like a wave.

I rush over, practically bouncing on my toes. “Maya! You will not believe what’s happening!”

She looks up, smirks, and shakes her head. “Already dramatic, I see. Alright… tell me.”

I spill everything: the dinner, Dad, Aiden’s mom, and my swirling panic about the whole situation. Maya listens, then sighs.

“Okay, first, breathe,” she says, gripping my shoulders gently. “It might not be that bad. Just… don’t say anything, don’t do anything. Treat it like any normal dinner. You survive it. That’s all you need to do.”

I bite my lip. “Maya… there’s more. I lied to Dad about my last term’s report. I told him I got first… but I didn’t. I got second. And now… what if he brings it up tonight? Aiden’s going to be there. And he’ll know I lied. It’s going to be another awkward… catastrophic situation.”

Maya raises an eyebrow. “Why did you lie?”

I shrug, a little embarrassed. “Dad just… he always thinks I’m first. I didn’t want him to be disappointed. Even though… maybe he wouldn’t be. He’d still be proud I’m doing well. I don’t know. I just…”

I trail off, because I do know. I just want everything to stay under control, but control is already slipping.

Then it happens.

I bump into someone in the hallway. My stomach lurches. I glance up… and there he is.

Aiden.

He’s taller than usual, shoulders relaxed, hair just messy enough to look effortless, eyes like something sharp and dangerous framed in warm light. Even in his school uniform, he carries that aura, confident, teasing, unapproachable. He smiles faintly, about to say something, probably some comment I don’t want to hear, some reminder of the competition I cannot let him win.

I step back quickly, giving a polite nod but keeping my head down. My feet move before my brain does. I don’t need to hear it. I don’t want to. Not now.

I walk past him and duck into my next class, heart still hammering.

The rest of the day flies by unnaturally fast. The first period crawls, yes, but after that, everything moves in a blur: lessons, lunch, a few announcements. By the time the final bell rings, I can’t believe it. Time has betrayed me, rushing me closer to the dinner I’ve been dreading all morning.

By the time I get home, Dad is standing in the living room, immaculately dressed. His smile is bright, easy, but it doesn’t ease the knot in my chest.

“You’re going to need to get ready soon,” he says cheerfully. “I’ll be picking up some flowers and a few things for dinner.”

I slump into a chair, my fingers threading through my hair. I stare at the floor, thinking of strategies, escape routes, excuses, anything that might get me through the night without embarrassment, without confrontation, without letting Aiden or myself see just how tangled this has made me feel.

I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, running through excuses in my head. Anything to get out of this? Anything to avoid the inevitable awkwardness. My mind flips through every possible scenario, but no matter how I spin it, it always ends in the same place: me, sitting at dinner, across from Aiden.

My phone buzzes.

A text from Dad: I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Start getting dressed. By the time I get home, we’ll need to leave for dinner.

I glance at the clock. 5:30 p.m.

Great. Just great.

I swing my legs off the bed and head to my closet, scanning for what to wear. Jeans? Casual, safe. Dress? Slightly risky, slightly… visible. My fingers brush over fabric, finally landing on the dress I bought last summer with Maya when we went to California for the holiday. Light, flowy, pastel blue with small embroidered flowers along the hem, a safe mix of cute and appropriate. I’d paired it with wedges that weren’t too high, but gave me some height. Perfect for a “look nice, not too much” vibe.

I move on to my hair and makeup. Light foundation, a swipe of blush, a little mascara. I decide on a slick ponytail, practical, neat, but polished. Looking in the mirror, I almost convince myself I can survive this. Almost.

By the time Dad pulls into the driveway, my stomach is a tight coil. I grab my bag, my composure, and step into the car. The drive is quiet. Dad hums softly to himself, occasionally glancing at me in the rear-view mirror, smiling like nothing could be wrong. But everything is wrong.

When we pull up to the house, my chest tightens. I can see the lights on, the door open, and then… he appears.

Aiden.

My stomach drops.

He’s standing there, holding the door open, casual and impossibly composed. He’s wearing a crisp white short-sleeve shirt that fits snugly across his broad shoulders and well-toned arms, letting the intricate tattoo sleeves peek out just where they should. His dark jeans are perfectly fitted, giving him a clean, effortless look that is both approachable and striking. Every detail, from the way the fabric stretches slightly over his biceps to the confident tilt of his stance, makes him look…undeniably beautiful.

There’s almost a full minute of silence as we stand at the door, just staring at each other. His eyes, dark, sharp, intense, lock with mine, and for some reason, the world around us disappears. My stomach tightens, my hands clench slightly at my sides, and I can feel my heart thumping in a way that’s entirely inappropriate for the situation.

Finally, my dad clears his throat, breaking the unbearable quiet. He stretches his hand toward Aiden with a warm smile. “Aiden, I’m Michael. It’s great to finally meet you.”

Aiden gives a small, polite nod and shakes Dad’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Mr Kingsley.”

Dad steps aside, gesturing toward the house. “Shall we come in?”

Aiden leads us inside, and I almost stumble over the threshold, my eyes still locked on him. Then, a few steps ahead, his mom appears, smiling as though nothing in the world could be wrong. She’s even more beautiful than I imagined, her brown hair shining softly, her eyes warm and kind.

Our parents kiss, and I feel my stomach twist even tighter. I try not to look, but I can’t help it. I glance at Aiden, and he’s still looking at me, calm and unbothered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Before I can process anything else, a little girl comes bounding down the stairs. She looks like a younger version of Aiden, with the same brown eyes and sharp features, and the way her brown hair catches the light makes her seem like she belongs in a magazine.

“Hi! I’m Elena,” she says brightly, walking up to us with a smile that’s impossible to resist. “You must be Zara! Mom’s told me so much about you!”

I force a smile, my nerves still tangled. Elena is adorable, confident, and radiates energy that makes me feel both intimidated and slightly charmed.

Then Aiden’s mom wraps me in a tight, soft, reassuring hug. “Zara, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Call me Camille, okay?”

I nod, still blinking a little at everything happening around me. Camille steps back, and I can feel the reality hitting me. This isn’t just dinner. This is our worlds colliding, and there’s no going back now.

I glance around the house as we follow Camille through the hallway. It’s enormous, bigger than I ever imagined. I knew Aiden came from a wealthy family, but I didn’t know it was this wealthy. The chandeliers catch the light just right, sparkling against the high ceilings, and I can’t help but let my eyes linger for a second, taking in the careful elegance of it all.

Family photos line the walls as we pass by Camille, smiling and happy with Elena and Aiden. Aiden’s dad is nowhere to be seen, and my curiosity spikes. Where is he? I wonder silently, noticing the absence like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. Did he leave? Did something happen? The question hovers in the back of my mind, but I push it aside. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about Aiden’s family drama.

Camille clears her throat gently, and I follow her and Dad into the dining room. My jaw almost drops. The table is immaculately set with crystal glasses, shining silverware, perfectly folded napkins, and a centrepiece of flowers that look impossibly fresh. I sit down slowly, taking it all in. Even for someone like me, who’s used to nice things, I’m impressed. This is… beautiful.

Then I notice him.

Aiden sits across from me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adjusts his sleeves. The white short-sleeve shirt shows off his arms again, and the tattoo sleeves peek just enough to make me clench my fists subconsciously. His dark jeans are still perfectly fitted, and he carries himself as if he owned the room without even trying.

Our eyes meet. And we just… stare.

For what feels like an eternity, no one says a word. The clink of silverware and the soft hum of the chandelier are the only sounds in the room. I can feel my stomach twist and my heart thump against my ribs. He doesn’t look away. I don’t either.

Then, finally, Camille clears her throat gently, a soft smile on her face. “Dinner’s ready,” she says. “Please, everyone, let’s eat’’.

But I’m still frozen, caught in his gaze, realizing that tonight isn’t just about family dinner. It’s about him, me, and the collision of everything we’ve been trying to control all year.