AFTER THERE'S YOU // ZESSA

Chapter 39: When a Stranger Calls

It has been one month since Hanya's death. A month since my life was forever changed. I would like to say things have gone back to normal even a little bit, but they have not – and I do not think they ever will.

I am still finishing my internship at Johnson Publishing, but the work environment has not seemed to recover from the loss of Hanya's deafening absence. What was once a fun, easy going work atmosphere has turned colder, and barren. Todd has yet to smile like he used to, and does not get as excited about projects, though the company is still doing well.

School has completely dragged on, and I find it hard to concentrate in class, my mind often wandering back to that terrible fire that killed my friend. Thankfully, my professors have been extremely lenient with assignments and tests, so I have not fallen behind despite having days where I physically cannot get out of bed.

I got a new car – well, new to me. It is significantly worse than my other used car, but with the car insurance company denying me coverage, I was left with barely enough money for my current piece of junk on wheels. Since no one has been convicted of setting my car on fire – or for the murder of Hanya Hartley– the insurance company refused to cover it. As if life was not already stressful enough.

However, Zed continues to be amazing. He even offered to pay for a portion of my car, which I of course refused. Surprisingly enough, my mother chipped in to help pay for it. Ever since I almost bled out at that party, our relationship has only grown stronger. She even checks in on me every few days, calling just to talk and make sure I am hanging in there. I finally feel that motherly care and love I have been missing all these years.

Speaking of love... I have yet to say it back to Zed. To be honest, it is hard to feel that emotion in my current state. I am so grief stricken, it consumes my every minute of my every day. That is by no means to say that I do not love Zed, though. In fact, my feelings have only grown for him.

Zed shows me every day that he cares. When I am at my lowest, and do not talk or move or anything for an entire day, he sits next to me, rubbing my hair or back and bringing me food. He does not pressure me to eat or feel better but instead lets me grieve at my own pace. I appreciate that about him – he does not mind feeling uncomfortable or awkward, if it means I might feel better. Zed still somehow puts me first, despite having his own schoolwork, job, friends, and family to attend to daily.

But I think I do love him. And I hope I can tell him soon. I hope this crushing pain lifts from me one day, and that the visions of Hanya's pale skin and dead eyes begin to fade from my memory. I want to remember her how it was: laughing over submarine sandwiches, giggling over vodka cranberries, and teasing Todd for getting grape jelly on his tie – again.

But mostly, I hope we catch her killer. I pray we find the man that did this. As it turns out, the cops checked on Hardin, and he was indeed in Britain at the time of the fire. Landon also confirmed this, having face-timed him with Ken and Karen just a few hours before. I am sure both parties think I am a bit crazy for that accusation, but I had no idea who else would have done this.

And when I am at my darkest, I wish that it had been me. That I had died instead of Hanya. I should have. It was my car. I was the one who ran out there. My life is the one constantly in chaos. Everyone would have been better off had it been me. Hanya should have been moving in with Nik right now, and finally getting her fairytale ending to their almost decade long love affair. We should have been getting excited for Spring Fest – which is a mere 3 days away.

Zed has briefly mentioned Spring Fest, but I am too upset to think about attending any of the events. I was supposed to be going there with Hanya – it was her idea after all. Steph even reached out, asking if I was doing anything for the big Spring Fest celebration on campus. She has actually reached out several times, offering her condolences and wanting to see me. I find a reason to blow her off, secretly and ashamedly mad at her as well for getting away with a mere broken ankle after the explosion, while Hanya lost her life.

Lying on Zed's bed, listening to the popcorn kernels pop in the microwave as he sets up a movie for us to watch, me mostly to zone out to, I am once again overcome with the anger I feel for Hanya's death. My face flushes and my hands clench into fists the more I think about it. I do not want to be in a bad mood when Zed comes in, but it is incredibly hard to shake this feeling.

I take a few deep breaths, remembering that Hanya would want me to have happy experiences, and try to let go of the anger, breathing out slowly. I cannot continue to be this sad or angry anymore – it is destroying me.

"Hey, hun," Zed says, peaking into the room as I relax my fists, his hair still wet from the shower he took a little while ago. "Popcorns almost done, just gotta clean up real quick and I'll be in here in a minute," he says, smiling at me while his eyes scan my face, surely trying to decipher what mood I am in today. Today was one of those days I did not leave the bed, but I am actually feeling a tiny bit better now.

I will never be able to thank Zed enough for being here for me. He even gave me a key to his apartment, letting me stay as long as I like, knowing that when I am alone my thoughts and nightmares are too intense for me to handle.

He gives me a wink, pleased with my current non-catatonic state, and heads back to the kitchen as the microwave beeps.

While I hear him rustling for a popcorn bowl, I see the screen of my phone light up. I have been getting a few random calls a week, where an unknown number will call me, breathe into the phone, then hang up. I block the random numbers every time, but a new one seems to find me. I have not picked up for about a week now, but something in me decides to answer today.

"Hello?" I answer in a huff, knowing I will not get a response.

"Hello," a distinctly low, British voice replies, before the line clicks dead.