Shattered Light

The hum of conversation filled the open quad, a backdrop of chatter and footsteps that felt oddly distant against the unease twisting in my chest. Southern California’s endless sunshine filtered through the canopy of trees, warming the cobblestone paths that connected the campus buildings. It should’ve felt peaceful, but my nerves buzzed like a live wire, the kind of hum that no amount of sunshine could chase away.

I adjusted the strap of my bag, the weight of my textbooks digging into my shoulder. The bite of it was grounding, a small anchor to the present when my thoughts wanted to drift elsewhere. Mel walked beside me, her energy as boundless as ever. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her black hair catching the golden rays like it had been made to. She practically radiated confidence, a stark contrast to the knots twisting in my stomach. Sometimes, being twins meant sharing the same face but having entirely different outlooks. Where Mel embraced the spotlight, I preferred the edges of the stage—quiet, unassuming, and far from the center of attention.

“I can’t believe it’s our last year,” Mel said, glancing at me. “One more semester, and we’ll be walking across that stage.”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Finally.”

“And we’re doing it in Southern California,” she added, gesturing dramatically at the palm trees lining the quad. “Talk about an upgrade from New York.”

“It’s definitely different,” I said, my voice neutral.

“Different?” she repeated, nudging me playfully. “That’s a cop-out. You miss the chaos, don’t you?”

I shot her a look, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from twitching. “Maybe. Or maybe I just miss not sweating through my shirt in September.”

Mel laughed, the sound light and contagious. “Fair. But come on, Ari. Look around. Palm trees! Sunshine! Hot guys who don’t wear parkas nine months out of the year.”

“Hot guys?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Are we here to study or audition for a reality show?”

She smirked. “Why not both?”

Before I could retort, Mel’s attention shifted. Her gaze locked onto something—or someone—ahead of us, her steps slowing slightly. “Speaking of hot guys…”

I followed her line of sight, and my breath caught for a moment. Two men stood near the edge of the quad, deep in conversation. One had an easy charm about him, his brown hair tousled like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. His grin was wide and inviting, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. The other… well, he was a different story entirely.

The second man stood apart, his black hair falling slightly over his forehead. There was something about the way he held himself—relaxed yet unyielding—that made the quad feel quieter somehow. His presence was commanding, as if he owned every inch of the space without trying. Then his gaze locked onto mine, cutting through the noise. My chest tightened, a flicker of something unnameable stirring in my stomach.

Mel let out a low whistle. “Dibs on Mr. Dimples.”

“Dimples?” I asked, already regretting it.

“The one who looks like he just walked off a rom-com set,” she said, grinning. “You can have Broody and Intense.”

“Hard pass.”

“Oh, come on,” she teased. “You love a good project.”

Before I could respond, Dimples nudged his companion, saying something I couldn’t hear. Broody and Intense glanced our way, his gaze lingering a moment too long. My shoulders stiffened as I looked away, refusing to let him rattle me.

“This is going to be fun,” Mel said under her breath, her tone dripping with mischief.

I groaned internally. Fun wasn’t exactly what I’d signed up for.

The lecture hall buzzed with energy when we arrived, students scattered across rows of desks in varying states of readiness. Mel made a beeline for the middle row, her confidence cutting through the crowd like a knife. I trailed behind her, scanning for an empty seat.

“Here,” she said, plopping down and patting the chair beside her. “Not too close, not too far—just enough to look like we care.”

I slid into the seat, dropping my bag onto the floor. “You’ve really thought this through.”

“Obviously,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Now all we need is—”

“These seats taken?”

I looked up to find Dimples and Broody standing beside us. Dimples—or rather, the guy with the easy charm—was grinning down at Mel, his brown eyes sparkling with interest. Broody’s gaze, however, was fixed on me, sharp and unreadable.

Mel’s smile turned flirtatious. “Depends. Are you any good at taking notes?”

Dimples laughed, sliding into the seat next to her without waiting for an invitation. “Amari,” he said, offering his hand. “And this ray of sunshine is Rio.”

“Mel,” she replied, shaking his hand. “And this is my sister, Aria.”

Rio’s gaze didn’t waver as he nodded at me. “Aria.”

There was something about the way he said my name, slow and deliberate, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue. My pulse skipped, and I nodded back. “Rio.”

On the walk back to the parking lot, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. My social battery was drained, but Mel was still riding the high of her first day. Amari walked ahead, animatedly recounting something to her, while Rio matched my slower pace.

“Nice car,” Rio said suddenly, his voice low and smooth. I turned, startled, my eyes following his nod toward my black-and-pink Integra. The cherry blossom accents glinted in the fading light, softening the car’s sharp edges.

“Thanks,” I said, my tone cautious.

He walked around it, inspecting the engraved taillights with a care that seemed almost out of place. His movements were deliberate, his fingers skimming the detailing without touching. “Who did this?”

“I did,” I said, keeping my voice even despite the flicker of pride in my chest.

He glanced back at me, a spark of something—curiosity? surprise?—flickering in his gray eyes. “Impressive,” he murmured, the faintest trace of approval lacing his tone.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s just a project.”

His lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smile. “A damn good one,” he said, stepping back to take in the car as a whole. “Not many people would’ve gone for something this clean. It’s got personality.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsure if that was a compliment or an observation. “Thanks. I guess.”

He pointed to a sleek black-and-red Supra across the lot, its lines aggressive and perfectly polished. “That’s me.”

“Figures,” I said, crossing my arms as I took it in. “Flashy, but not too much. Looks fast.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost too quiet to catch. “It gets the job done.”

His phone buzzed, cutting through the moment. I didn’t mean to glance at the screen, but the way his face hardened when he read the message made my stomach twist. The easy calm he’d worn just seconds ago evaporated, leaving behind something colder, sharper.

“Everything okay?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he said curtly, though the tension in his voice told a different story. “Just… work.”

I tilted my head. “What kind of work?”

For a split second, his eyes flicked to mine, something dark and guarded flashing across his face. “The kind that doesn’t wait,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

Without another word, he turned and walked off, his long strides cutting across the lot with purpose. I watched him go, the sharp lines of his shoulders rigid as if he were bracing against an invisible weight. Whatever was on his phone, whatever it meant, had pulled him somewhere I couldn’t follow.

“Well, that was something,” I muttered under my breath, turning back to my car.

Mel’s laugh echoed from the other side of the lot, where Amari was gesturing wildly about something I couldn’t hear. They were a perfect contrast: effortless charm versus quiet intensity. If Rio was all sharp edges and shadows, Amari was sunlight cutting through them.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of my Integra, I exhaled slowly, the day’s tension settling into my shoulders. My eyes drifted toward the Supra one last time, its sleek frame bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. It fit him—a car that spoke volumes without needing to shout.

Whatever Rio’s deal was, one thing was clear: he wasn’t just a passing face in the quad. He was a storm waiting to break.

By the time we got home, Dad was waiting for us.

“How was your first day?” he asked, crushing us in a bear hug.

“It was great!” Mel exclaimed.

“Good. You can tell me all about it during training,” he said, grinning as we groaned.

Training had been a constant in our lives. Dad, a former special forces operative, had taught us everything from self-defense to shooting. Melany was a natural on the mats, always pinning me more times than I’d like to admit. But I excelled on the range.

Still, training didn’t erase the nightmares.

“I’m okay. I’m home. I’m safe,” I repeated under my breath, grounding myself in the warmth of the present. But no mantra, no training, could erase the ghost of those chains or the shadows they left behind.

Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grin fading slightly. “You’re safe here, Aria,” he said, his voice steady. But his eyes flicked toward the window, his jaw set tight. “Just don’t forget—safe can change in a second.”

Authors Note:

Thank you so much for diving into Shattered Light! Writing Aria and Rio’s story has been such an incredible journey, and I’m beyond excited to finally share it with you. 💖 If you’re enjoying the ride so far, let me know! Comments, feedback, or even just your favorite moments—it all means the world to me. Don’t forget to hit that favorite button and add Shattered Light to your reading list so you don’t miss a thing. There’s so much more to come—secrets, sparks, and maybe a little chaos. Stay tuned. 😉