Aria's POV

The sound of the hallway faded into the background as I stepped into my next class, Jack's words still echoing in my mind. Wherever I end up, you're still going to be my girl. He made it sound so simple, like the future wasn't this big, messy thing looming over us. For him, maybe it wasn't. Jack always had this way of moving through life—steady, unshakable, one step at a time. I envied that about him.

Sliding into my seat near the back of the classroom, I pulled out my notebook, its blank pages glaring up at me. The steady hum of students filing in filled the room—snippets of conversations, the scrape of chairs, a textbook thudding against a desk. It all blurred into a low hum as my mind wandered back to last year. I'd felt so alone then, stuck in this strange in-between where no one seemed to notice me. Back then, I admired Jack from afar. Yeah, I know—creepy, right?

It was just me, my vlogs, and my secret mermaid self. No real friends. No one who really saw me. And then Eli came into my life, and somehow, through him, Jack and Brent followed. Everything changed, slowly at first, then all at once.

I twirled my pen between my fingers, trying to focus as the teacher shuffled papers at the front of the room, but my thoughts kept circling back to Jack. He had become my anchor, the person I leaned on when life felt too chaotic or overwhelming. Last year, when everything seemed to fall apart—my parents barely acknowledging me, my powers shifting in ways I couldn't explain—he was the one who kept me steady. But now, with him looking toward college and a future that might not include me, I couldn't help but wonder: Was I leaning on him too much?

Sure, I'd grown a lot in the past year. My vlogs had gone from a secret diary for myself to something real, something people actually watched. TikTok, YouTube—it was all happening. People loved Jack and me together, calling us "relationship goals," and for the first time in a long time, I felt visible. But the idea of Jack leaving stirred something deeper, something I wasn't ready to face. Of course, I would never show my other self, which is my mermaid self.

I was still a junior, but with Jack being a senior, I couldn't help thinking about what next year would bring. What would I even look like without him by my side? Who would I be?

The bell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts as the teacher began calling attendance. I straightened in my seat, taking a deep breath. The noise of the classroom washed over me—a pen clicking nearby, someone rustling through their bag, the faint chatter of friends catching up. It was enough to pull me back to the present, at least for now.

Jack had his own dreams, his own path, and as much as I wanted to be part of it, I knew I couldn't let myself be the reason he held back. I needed to find my own footing too. My powers, my place in this world—it was all still a mystery. But maybe this year could be about figuring it out. About figuring me out.

Jack's words lingered, a steady rhythm in the back of my mind, quiet but constant. One wave at a time. This was my year too. And it was time I started living it.

The rest of the class passed in a blur, my pen scrawling notes that felt more like automatic motions than actual focus. When the bell finally rang, I packed up my things and stepped into the hallway, where the steady hum of lockers slamming and overlapping voices rose like waves around me. I tried to ground myself in the present, but my earlier thoughts still lingered, swirling beneath the surface like an undertow.

Halfway to my locker, I noticed something taped to the front—a folded piece of paper with my name scrawled in Jack's familiar, slightly messy handwriting. My heart fluttered as I pulled it off, glancing around instinctively to see if he was nearby. But there was no Jack. Just the usual tide of students passing by in their own little worlds.

I unfolded the note right there in the hallway, my lips curving into a smile almost instantly.

Hey, babygirl. Just wanted to remind you that you're amazing, and I'm proud of you. No matter where this year takes us, I'll always be by your side—your mermaid-obsessed boyfriend, your biggest fan, and your Jack.

Nestled inside the note was a tiny, silver shell charm. I turned it over in my hand, feeling the cool metal press against my skin as warmth spread through my chest. Another charm for my bracelet.

I traced the delicate shape of the shell, smiling as memories surfaced. Jack had given me the bracelet last year, long before I'd even admitted my feelings for him. The first charm was a crescent moon—his way of teasing me about my full moon phases, when my mermaid instincts left me hazy and bewitched. Those moments felt like foggy dreams to me, but Jack always had stories, little moments he kept to himself. It drove me crazy that he wouldn't tell me everything, but he claimed it was his way of holding onto us.

The second charm came at his prom—a football. He'd surprised me with it even though I was only a sophomore, turning what could've been an ordinary night into something unforgettable. Over the summer, he'd added a mermaid charm, his private little tribute to my secret self. He gave it to me with his signature grin, the one that said, You'll always be my mermaid.

And now this. A silver shell, simple but perfect. A reminder of the ocean, of everything it meant to me. Of us. It was so Jack—thoughtful without being over the top, subtle but full of meaning.

I clipped the charm onto the bracelet, watching it dangle alongside the others. Each charm carried its own story, its own little piece of us. As I snapped the bracelet back onto my wrist, the earlier weight I'd been carrying seemed to lighten, replaced by the quiet warmth of his gesture.

Jack always had this way of grounding me, of pulling me out of my head and back to what really mattered. His words from the note echoed softly in my mind, steady and sure.

One wave at a time.

I closed my locker, tucking the note into my pocket and letting the crowded hallway carry me forward. The day wasn't over yet, and neither was everything I needed to figure out. But for now, this small moment was enough.

The rest of the day felt like it was moving both too quickly and too slowly at the same time. I carried the warmth of Jack's note and charm with me, his words a quiet reassurance that eased some of the heaviness I'd been feeling. But beneath that comfort, a nagging sense of unease lingered, like a tide pulling at me from somewhere unseen.

Sliding into my desk for the next class, I tried to refocus. The teacher droned on about something—history, maybe?—but I wasn't paying attention. I hadn't really been paying attention in any of my classes. My thoughts tumbled over one another in a relentless loop: Jack's senior year, my secret, what I was supposed to be doing with my life, my parents, everything. It was like my mind was caught in an endless spiral I couldn't stop.

I glanced down at my wrist, absently tracing the edge of the bracelet. The charms jingled softly with the smallest movement, a delicate sound that grounded me, reminding me of Jack and the moment of calm I'd felt earlier.

And then it happened.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light. The faintest glow began to emanate from my moon ring, a soft silver pulse that shimmered like light reflecting on water. My breath caught, and I froze, quickly dropping my hand into my lap. My pulse quickened as the glow continued, faint but insistent. It wasn't bright enough for anyone else to notice, but to me, it felt blinding.

I curled my fingers into a loose fist, desperate to hide the light, but the sensation didn't stop. The ring wasn't just glowing—it was thrumming, a steady rhythm that matched the quickened beat of my heart. The sensation wasn't painful, but it wasn't comforting either. It felt... alive. Like it was trying to tell me something, something I wasn't sure I was ready to hear.

I stole a glance around the room. Everyone else was focused on the lesson, their heads bent over notebooks or staring blankly at the whiteboard. No one was looking at me. I exhaled a shaky breath of relief, but the unease didn't fade.

What does this mean?

The ring only reacted like this when something significant was happening—or about to happen. Usually, it was tied to the full moon, but that was still days away. Last year, it had glowed in moments of heightened emotion, when my powers had spiraled out of control.

My mind drifted back to the chaos Brooke had caused last year—her relentless need to tear me down, the way my emotions had flared so intensely I'd nearly lost control of everything. Or the winter formal, when I'd finally found the strength to stand my ground and fix my friendship with Brent and Eli.

Eli had been distant after his breakup, and though he'd slowly come back to us, there was still something he wasn't saying. Brent had been brave enough to open up about his home life—about his dad's drinking and his mom being hurt—but I knew that pain hadn't gone away. Somehow, we'd managed to piece things back together, but cracks still lingered beneath the surface, even now.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. My pen hovered over the notebook in front of me, its tip barely grazing the paper. I jotted down the words on the board, though they blurred in my mind, meaningless and scattered.

But the faint pulse of the ring stayed with me, a quiet, steady reminder that whatever it was connected to, I couldn't ignore it for long.

The rest of class passed in a fog, my pen barely grazing the paper as the teacher's words blurred into background noise. All I could think about was the steady pulse of the ring, like a quiet but persistent whisper. I clenched my hand tightly at my side, willing the glow to stop. By the time the bell rang, the thrumming had dulled, but the unease lingered, curling in my chest like a wave waiting to crash.

I packed up slowly, letting the other students file out before stepping into the crowded hallway. The clamor of lockers slamming and voices bouncing off the walls was almost too much, a sharp contrast to the quiet turmoil in my head. I hadn't even made it far when I spotted Jack leaning casually against the wall outside my classroom, his easy grin lighting up the space around him.

"Hey, babygirl," he said, straightening as he noticed me. His teasing tone was like a balm. "You look like you've seen a ghost. History class that bad, huh?"

His voice cut through the haze, anchoring me back to the moment. I couldn't help but smile, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. "You have no idea," I replied, slipping my bag over my shoulder as he fell into step beside me.

Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at me. "Really? Because you look more 'stressed-out mermaid' than bored junior. What's up?"

I hesitated, my fingers brushing over the bracelet on my wrist. The charm he'd given me earlier felt solid and grounding, a quiet reminder of his steady presence in my life. "Nothing," I said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just... distracted, I guess."

Jack stopped walking, catching my arm gently. His expression shifted from playful to serious, his brown eyes scanning mine with quiet determination. "Babygirl, come on. I know you. This isn't just a bad class. What's going on?"

For a moment, I considered telling him about the ring—how it had glowed and pulsed like it was alive, like it was trying to warn me about something I couldn't understand. But the words stuck in my throat. What could I even say? That my magic jewelry was throwing a tantrum? Jack had spent so much of last year helping me. He'd been there for everything: the transformation mishaps, the lonely nights when my parents were away, and the overwhelming moments when my powers spiraled out of control. He'd sat with me at Waves and Whispers as Elara handed out cryptic advice and had stood by me when Brooke tried to tear me down.

And now he was a senior. His year. The year he was supposed to focus on himself, on football, on college. How could I ask him to get pulled into my mess again? I wasn't even sure I understood it myself.

I shrugged, looking down at the floor. "I think it's just the start of the school year stress. You know, classes, homework... everything."

Jack tilted his head, studying me for a moment longer. I could tell he wasn't convinced, but he didn't press. Instead, his grin returned, softer this time. "Well, I can think of at least one way to fix that." He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "How about we hit The Cozy Corner after school? Your iced coffee obsession could probably use some attention."

I laughed despite myself, the tension loosening a little. "My obsession? You act like it's a problem."

"It is a problem," he said, mock-seriousness in his voice. "Pumpkin chai lattes, peppermint mochas... do you even realize how much money I spent last year on your seasonal drink phases? I miss having a nickname for you. Pumpkin Girl, Peppermint Girl... I've got nothing now. October can't come fast enough."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out before I could stop it. "I didn't ask you to bankroll my iced coffee addiction."

"No, but you didn't stop me, either." His grin widened, and he pressed a quick kiss to my temple, his arm tightening slightly around me. "There's my girl. One wave at a time, right?"

I nodded, his words settling over me like a steadying anchor. "One wave at a time."

As we walked down the hallway together, the pulsing of the ring faded further into the background. The unease wasn't gone—not entirely—but with Jack by my side, it felt a little easier to carry.

As the final bell rang and the sea of students poured into the hallways, Jack and I made our way toward the parking lot. The day had dragged, but his arm slung casually over my shoulders made everything feel lighter. His presence was a constant reminder that, no matter how heavy things seemed, I wasn't carrying them alone.

We climbed into his red BMW, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the faint musk of Black Ice from the air freshener swinging from the rearview mirror. It smelled like him—comforting, grounding. The drive to The Cozy Corner was filled with easy chatter, his teasing about my seasonal drink phases earning more playful swats than usual. "Pumpkin Girl," he quipped, shaking his head as I laughed, "is on borrowed time until you decide apple crisp macchiatos are your new thing." It felt like us—light, familiar, and exactly what I needed.

When we pulled into the lot and stepped into the café, the soft hum of conversation and the warm scent of coffee and cinnamon wrapped around me like a blanket. The Cozy Corner always had this way of making the world outside feel just a little less chaotic. Jack led the way to the counter, his eyes scanning the menu even though he always got the same thing.

"Grab our usual table," he said, flashing me a grin. "I'll handle this one."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, letting him play the hero. Our favorite spot by the window was open, so I slid into the chair, the sunlight casting golden streaks across the wooden table. I rested my chin on my hand, watching Jack as he ordered. The way he moved—easy confidence, that natural ease—was something I never got tired of. He was so utterly himself, like he belonged anywhere he went.

When he came back, he set down his black coffee and my iced coffee, but there was something extra tucked under his arm. He placed a small brown bag on the table, his grin widening like he was trying to hold back a secret.

"What's this?" I asked, narrowing my eyes as I reached for the bag.

"Just prepping for your next drink phase, Pumpkin Girl," he teased, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

I pulled out a mini pumpkin muffin, the spiced scent filling the space between us. A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. "So, we're back to Pumpkin Girl again? I thought I graduated to Peppermint Girl last winter."

"You're the one who started the 'variety is life' thing," Jack shot back, chuckling. "Now I've got to stay ahead of the curve. But fall's coming, and I miss the fall vibes. Pumpkin Girl fits." He paused, the teasing fading slightly. "It's ridiculously thoughtful of me, though, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't hide my smile as I broke off a piece of the muffin. "You're lucky this is delicious, or I'd be annoyed. But I might skip pumpkin this year. I'm thinking iced apple crisp macchiatos instead."

Jack groaned, slumping back dramatically. "No way. You're retiring Pumpkin Girl? I didn't even get to enjoy this phase properly. What's next? A 'pecan pie latte girl' phase?"

"Don't tempt me." I grinned, savoring the sweetness of the muffin. "You'll just have to keep up."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his grin softening into something warmer. "You've had a rough day, babygirl. Just wanted to give you a little something to make it better."

The sincerity in his voice made my heart tug. "Thank you," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"That's my job," he replied, the teasing gone from his tone. "One wave at a time, remember?"

"One wave at a time," I echoed, the words settling over me like a quiet promise.

We sat there, sharing bites of the muffin as sunlight played across the table. Jack sipped his black coffee, refusing—again—to entertain the idea of seasonal drinks, and I savored my iced coffee, wondering how he always managed to make the worst days feel bearable. His steady presence, his teasing, his quiet thoughtfulness—they all wove together into something I didn't just want. It was something I needed. For now, this was more than enough.

As we left The Cozy Corner, Jack's hand found mine, his fingers warm against the crisp late afternoon air. The drive back was filled with his usual banter and light teasing, his laughter weaving through the quiet hum of the engine. I smiled and played along, but my thoughts had already started drifting, pulling me into a tide I couldn't quite resist.

I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, the silver shell charm catching the soft glow of the fading sunlight. Its quiet beauty made my chest tighten, a small sigh slipping out before I could stop it.

Jack always had this way of making the heavy stuff feel lighter. When things felt overwhelming, he seemed to know exactly how to anchor me, like a steady current cutting through choppy waves. He'd been my safe harbor through so much—last year, when Brooke's rumors threatened to tear me down; the nights when my powers spiraled out of control, leaving me feeling like I'd drown in them; even the small, everyday moments when doubt crept in, whispering I wasn't enough. Jack had always been there, unshakable and sure.

But a quiet thought tugged at the edges of my mind, leaving ripples of unease in its wake. Was I leaning on him too much?

Last year, I'd told him I needed space to grow—to figure out who I was outside of being his girlfriend. And Jack had listened. He'd stepped back just enough to give me room to stand on my own, even when it must have been hard for him. That choice had strengthened us, or so I'd thought. But now, with so much uncertainty swirling around me again, I couldn't help but wonder: Was I slipping back into old patterns, relying on him to steady me when I should be steadying myself?

I stole a glance at him as he drove, his profile calm and relaxed, like he didn't have a care in the world. Jack was a senior now, with football games to play, recruiters to impress, and college decisions looming over him. This was his year to shine, his moment to focus on himself and his future. And here I was, tugging him back into my chaos, even when I didn't mean to.

I wanted to be his support, his anchor—the way he was mine. But how could I do that when I was still figuring out how to stand on my own?

The bracelet jingled softly as I brushed my thumb over the silver shell charm, the familiar weight grounding me. It was such a Jack thing—thoughtful, simple, but full of meaning. It reminded me of the ocean, of us, of how he always found ways to show me I wasn't alone. But even that small gesture was a quiet nudge, a gentle push: Jack believed in me, trusted me to find my own strength.

Maybe it was time I started believing in myself, too.

As the drive continued, the quiet hum of the car and the rhythmic whir of tires on asphalt filled the space between us. Jack's hand rested casually on the gear shift, his fingers tapping lightly to a song playing faintly on the radio. His usual ease, that effortless calm he carried, wrapped around me like a steady tide, but something in his posture shifted—a slight tension I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't know him so well.

"You okay, babe?" I asked softly, glancing at him. He always seemed to sense when I was spiraling, but now I could feel the subtle weight of something on his mind.

Jack hesitated, his fingers stilling on the gear shift. For a moment, he kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "Yeah," he said finally, his voice lower than usual. "I mean, mostly. Just... a lot on my mind."

I tilted my head, curiosity sparking. Jack wasn't usually one to brood or let things weigh him down—at least not outwardly. "What's up?" I pressed gently, not wanting to push too hard but hoping he'd let me in.

He exhaled through his nose, his grip on the wheel tightening for a second before he spoke. "It's senior year, you know? Everyone keeps saying it's supposed to be the best year—the year you figure out your future, leave your mark, all that crap." His lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "But what if I don't? What if I screw it up?"

I blinked, taken aback by the honesty in his voice. Jack rarely let cracks show in his confident exterior, but here he was, voicing a fear I hadn't even realized he was carrying.

"Babe..." I began, unsure of what to say. He glanced at me briefly before turning his focus back to the road.

"Everyone has these expectations," he continued, his voice gaining a quiet intensity. "My coach, my teammates, my parents... even myself. I mean, yeah, I've got options—USC, Oregon, all these schools looking at me for football. But what if I pick the wrong one? What if I can't keep up? What if I'm not as good as everyone thinks I am?" He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "God, that sounds pathetic, huh?"

"It doesn't," I said quickly, my voice firm. "Jack, you're not pathetic. You're human." I hesitated, choosing my next words carefully. "You've been carrying a lot on your shoulders, probably for a while now. It's okay to feel unsure."

He sighed, his gaze softening as he glanced at me. "I guess I just... don't want to let anyone down. Especially not you." His words hung in the air, quiet but weighted, and I felt my chest tighten.

"You could never let me down," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But, babe, you don't have to carry all of this alone. You've got people who care about you—your family, your team... me. We're here for you. I know last year was rough, with the Brooke drama and everything with Eli and Brent. But I'm still here. Just like our motto—one wave at a time."

His hand found mine, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. The touch was warm, familiar, like he was reminding himself I was real. "Thanks, babygirl. I mean it. I don't say it enough, but I don't know what I'd do without you."

I squeezed his hand, letting my fingers linger against his as I smiled softly. "Well, good thing you won't have to find out."

His laughter, soft and genuine, broke through the tension like sunlight cutting through heavy clouds. The sound felt like a balm, easing the weight that had settled in the car. "Guess I'm stuck with you, huh?"

"Forever," I teased, though my voice held a quiet conviction I couldn't quite hide. The warmth spreading through me wasn't just comfort—it was something deeper, something that made me feel like we were unshakable. "One wave at a time, remember? I know I keep saying it, but it's special. It's ours."

He nodded, his grip on my hand tightening slightly, his eyes glancing at me for a moment before focusing back on the road. "One wave at a time," he echoed, his voice steady, like the words carried more weight than they'd ever had before.

As we pulled into my driveway, the car idled softly, its low hum filling the space between us. I glanced at him, taking in the way his shoulders had relaxed, the tension from earlier seeming to fade just a little. The silver glow from the streetlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the calm but thoughtful expression he wore.

Jack had always been my anchor, the one who steadied me when I felt like I was drifting too far out to sea. But as I sat there, watching him, I felt a quiet shift in the air between us. He wasn't just my steadying force—I could be his, too. Maybe I already was.

I reached out, brushing my thumb across his knuckles. "You've got this," I said softly, a quiet assurance in my voice.

His gaze met mine, a warmth flickering in his eyes that chased away any lingering doubt. "With you, I think I do," he murmured, his voice low but sure.

I smiled, leaning back in my seat, the quiet comfort of the moment settling over us. One wave at a time.

As Jack's car disappeared down the street, its red taillights blending into the fading twilight, I lingered on the porch, letting the quiet of the neighborhood settle around me. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint tang of salt from the ocean, mingling with the earthy scent of fall leaves. My arms wrapped instinctively around myself, my fingers brushing over the bracelet Jack had given me. The silver shell charm caught the fading light, glinting like a small beacon of reassurance in the growing dusk.

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself before pushing open the front door. The warm glow of the kitchen lights spilled into the hallway, accompanied by the low murmur of voices. My parents. Together. Talking. The sound stopped me in my tracks. Usually, the house felt like an empty shell, a place we passed through on different trajectories rather than shared. Between their business trips, dinners with friends, and my constant sense of being overlooked, hearing them here—together—felt foreign.

"Aria, is that you?" my mom called from the kitchen, her voice softer than I remembered it being in years.

"Yeah," I replied, slipping off my shoes and stepping inside. The clatter of a spoon against a ceramic mug was followed by the rustle of a newspaper. My mom stood at the counter, stirring tea—or coffee, maybe—and my dad sat at the table, his reading glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through the evening paper. For a moment, I just stood there, frozen.

The sight of them together like this felt... wrong. Like I'd stumbled into a scene from someone else's life. Last year, their presence had been a rare event. They were ghosts—physically here, but absent in every way that mattered. And even after their apology during winter formal, their attempts at involvement felt awkward, forced. Like they were trying to mold themselves into the parents they thought I wanted, rather than understanding what I actually needed.

"How was school?" my mom asked, her voice unnaturally casual. Her gaze flicked to my bracelet, lingering on the silver shell charm for just a beat too long before meeting my eyes.

"Good," I said cautiously, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorway. "Busy."

My dad set down the paper, his brow furrowing slightly. "Anything interesting happen?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual, like he was trying not to overstep.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. "Not really," I said with a shrug. My words came out clipped, automatic, like muscle memory from years of strained conversations.

"Well, that's good," my mom offered, though her tone wavered. She gave me a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Jack was driving me home," I said suddenly, testing the waters. It wasn't a lie—just a deliberate prod to see how much they'd been paying attention.

My mom's expression didn't shift, but her words did. "Jack," she repeated, almost to herself. "Oh, your boyfriend. The football player, right?"

For a moment, I blinked at her, thrown off. She remembered? "Yeah," I said slowly.

My dad glanced up from his paper, nodding thoughtfully. "He's a senior, right? Good for him. Senior year's a big deal. What's he planning to do after graduation?"

I hesitated, unsure if this was a genuine question or just filler to keep the conversation going. "He's looking at colleges," I said, testing their reaction. "Probably something with football. He's got recruiters interested."

"Football," my dad repeated, his tone neutral but laced with something I couldn't quite place. "That's... ambitious. I hope he's considering some backups. Sports careers don't last forever."

I studied his expression, trying to gauge whether he was being judgmental or practical. I couldn't tell. "He's smart about it," I said evenly, not wanting to give too much away.

My mom nodded again, her fingers tightening slightly around her mug. "It sounds like he has a good head on his shoulders. I'm glad he has your support, Aria. It's important for him to know you're behind him."

Her words were polite, rehearsed almost, like she'd practiced how to sound interested in my life. I didn't know whether to feel touched or annoyed. "Yeah," I said simply, my voice giving nothing away. "Anyway, I've got homework."

They both looked up, disappointment flickering across their faces so quickly I almost missed it. "Alright, sweetheart," my mom said, her smile faltering just slightly. "Let us know if you need anything."

I nodded, retreating to the stairs, but their voices didn't follow me. The moment I was out of sight, I let out a slow breath, the weight of their awkward attentiveness pressing down on me. I wanted to believe they were trying, that their concern was genuine, but it was hard to trust after years of feeling invisible. They didn't know me anymore—maybe they never had.

As I stepped into my room and closed the door, the familiar quiet settled over me like a safety net. My room had always been my refuge, a place where I could shut out the world and just be. I flopped onto my bed, the silver shell charm on my bracelet catching the dim glow of my moon ring as it pulsed faintly.

Jack's words echoed in my mind: One wave at a time. They were a lifeline, a steady reminder to take things as they came. But as the faint light of the ring flickered against the ceiling, I couldn't ignore the chill creeping over me. Something told me the waves ahead wouldn't be calm—and I wasn't sure I was ready to face them.

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A/N: Hey, guys. Happy Thanksgiving! Just giving you guys a special treat today with this update. Hope you like it. I miss them and their cheesy moments. Sorry, it's a chapter with Jack and Aria right now. I know I said I was going to come back in January 2025 with this story, but I couldn't help it. I love the story plot I have come up with. Happy Thanksgiving!