Snow’s Point of View

The drive home was quiet, aside from the hum of the car’s engine. My head was still pounding, and every bump in the road sent a dull ache reverberating through my skull.

Zino kept glancing at me, his concern written all over his face. “Snow, we need to get you checked out. These headaches aren’t normal.”

“I’ll be fine,” I muttered, though even I wasn’t sure if I believed it. The truth was, I was scared. Scared that something was seriously wrong and scared to find out what it might be.

Karsten, who was driving, glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “We’re not taking chances with this. You’re going back to the doctor tomorrow.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the energy to fight them on this, and deep down, I knew they were right.

When we pulled into the driveway, I practically stumbled out of the car, Zino steadying me as we walked toward the house. Dad was waiting by the door, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“Snow,” he said, his voice a mixture of worry and authority. “What happened?”

“She’s burning up,” Karsten said quickly. “And the headaches are worse.”

Dad frowned, stepping closer to place a hand on my forehead. His touch was cool, and I leaned into it instinctively.

“You’re running a fever,” he said, his tone softening. “Go lie down. I’ll call the doctor and make sure they can see you first thing in the morning.”

I nodded weakly, too tired to protest. Zino helped me upstairs and into my room, where I collapsed onto the bed.

“Here,” he said, handing me a glass of water and the pills I’d tucked into my bag earlier. “Take these and get some rest.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, swallowing the pills before curling up under the blankets.

As Zino left, closing the door behind him, I tried to let the quiet of my room lull me to sleep. But my mind wouldn’t stop racing.

Nia and Kingston.

The image of them in the parking lot flashed in my mind again, and a thousand questions swirled in my head. Were they friends? Something more? And why did it bother me so much?

I let out a frustrated sigh, pressing my hands against my temples. The pain was relentless, and the questions weren’t helping.

I needed answers—about my health, about Kingston, about everything. But for now, all I could do was rest and hope tomorrow would bring some clarity.

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Kingston’s Point of View

The sound of my phone vibrating against the dashboard pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, Snow’s father’s name flashing across it.

“Speak,” I said as I answered, keeping my tone calm and neutral.

“It’s Snow,” he said immediately, his voice tense. “Her condition’s getting worse. Fever, headaches, the works. She’s seeing a doctor tomorrow, but I thought you should know.”

A sharp pang of worry shot through me, though I didn’t let it show in my voice. “She’ll be fine,” I said evenly, gripping the wheel tighter. “Let me know what the doctor says.”

“Kingston,” he said, his tone shifting. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so involved with her?”

I smirked, though he couldn’t see it. “I told you before. I like my little bunny. She’ll be mine soon enough.”

“Kingston—”

“I’m still your enemy, old man,” I cut him off, my voice dropping. “But when it comes to Snow, that changes. You should understand that by now.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but I could hear the tension in his silence.

“I’ll check in later,” I said before hanging up and tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

As I drove through the dark streets, my mind drifted back to her. Snow wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. She had this quiet strength, this innocence that made her stand out in a world full of people trying to play games.

And now, knowing she wasn’t well, it made something in my chest tighten. I’d meant what I said—Snow was mine, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.