Burn
807 Words
The highway blurred under Aria’s rented sedan as she sped toward the interstate exit Chloe’s taillights had vanished down minutes earlier. Rain hammered the windshield, the rhythmic thud of wipers syncing with her racing heartbeat. Beside her, Ethan’s phone buzzed incessantly with calls from the board, but he’d silenced it, his profile carved in sharp relief by passing headlights.
“Faster,” he ordered, knuckles white on the dashboard.
“I’m *going* fast,” Aria snapped, swerving around a truck.
“Not fast enough.”
She gritted her teeth. *Typical Ethan—turning a crisis into a competition.* But when she risked a glance at him, she saw the crack in his armor: the way his thumb worried the scar on his palm, a nervous habit she’d only ever seen once—the night he’d confessed his father’s death had been suicide, not a heart attack.
---
**Chloe**
The roadside diner was a relic of the ’70s, its neon *OPEN* sign sputtering as Chloe slumped into a vinyl booth. Her phone lit up with a news alert:
**BLACKWOOD CEO RESIGNS AMID SCANDAL: Insider Photos Reveal Affair with Intern**
Her stomach lurched. There, in grainy black-and-white, was Aria—back arched against Ethan’s office window, his hands tangled in her hair. The caption gutted her: *“From Boardroom to Bedroom: How Blackwood’s Golden Boy Lost His Empire.”*
“Damn it, Ethan,” she whispered, tears splashing onto the screen. She’d wanted revenge, but not like this. Never like this.
The bell above the door jingled.
“Go away, Aria,” she said without looking up.
“Not Aria.” Jack slid into the booth, rainwater glinting in his scruff. “Dot’s a gossip, and you’re the saddest thing in this town since the deer ate Mrs. Peet’s prize roses.” He nudged a mug of cocoa toward her. “Also, your brother’s about to get punched by a trucker outside.”
Chloe followed his gaze through the rain-streaked window. Ethan stood in the parking lot, fists clenched as a burly man shouted over a dented fender. Aria was sprinting toward them, her blazer flapping like a wounded bird.
“They’re a mess,” Chloe muttered.
Jack smirked. “Love usually is.”
---
**Aria**
The trucker’s fist swung.
Aria lunged between him and Ethan, the man’s knuckles grazing her temple. She stumbled, stars exploding behind her eyes.
“Aria!” Ethan caught her, his roar cutting through the rain. “You *i***t*—”
“Stop,” she gasped, clutching his shirt. “Just… stop trying to *win*.”
Ethan froze. For the first time, he looked lost.
The trucker spat on the ground. “Keep your rich-boy drama off the road.”
As he stormed away, Aria turned to Ethan. “The photo. It’s everywhere.”
He stiffened. “I know.”
“You’re ruined.”
“I’ve been ruined before.” His thumb brushed the rising welt on her brow. “This isn’t the end.”
“It could be.” She stepped back, rain soaking through her clothes. “Resignation isn’t enough. The board wants blood. *My* blood.”
His jaw tightened. “They won’t touch you.”
“They already have!” She pulled up her email, shoving the screen in his face. **Termination Notice** glared back. “I’m done, Ethan. No job. No Chloe. No *you.*”
His mask slipped—raw panic flashing in his eyes—but Chloe’s voice sliced through the moment.
“Enough.”
They turned. She stood under the diner’s awning, Jack’s flannel draped over her shoulders.
“I didn’t leak the photo,” she said quietly.
Aria’s breath caught. “Then who—”
“Does it matter?” Chloe hugged herself. “It’s out. Ethan’s finished. You’re unemployed. And I…” Her voice broke. “I just want my brother and my best friend back.”
Ethan moved first, crossing the lot in five strides to crush Chloe into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, the words foreign and rough. “For everything.”
Aria hung back, trembling. This was their moment—their fractured family mending. But then Chloe reached for her, tears and rain mingling on her cheeks.
“You’re an i***t,” Chloe whispered, pulling her into the embrace. “But you’re *my* idiot.”
---
**The Aftermath**
By dawn, the story trended globally. Investors bailed. HR launched investigations. And Aria sat in the motel parking lot, watching Ethan draft his official statement on a borrowed laptop.
“Don’t,” she said, shutting the screen. “You’ve given them enough.”
He stared at her. “What would you have me do?”
“Fight.” She kissed him, fierce and lingering. “Not for the company. For *us.*”
His smile was a blade. “Always.”
- Writer
