If Mondays were hard before, this one was absolutely strenuous.

The night before went by in a daze, spurred by the slap of Simon's call. Zara didn't know where he was, what he was doing, or why he had left. Not even the call gave away anything, except for one thing.

The fear in his voice.

It was completely out of character for her grandfather to just disappear the way he did. It wasn't bizarre that she didn't see him for a couple of days at a time, because his job often got him at strange hours, but she always bumped into him. Eventually. But now, there was no sign of him having returned to the apartment, his bed had remained untouched, just as everything else in his room.

He said he would return in a couple of days, but how long would that be? Three days? A week? The ambiguity of the statement left her scratching her head and a call to the police at the forefront of her thoughts. But as she dialled and deleted the number repeatedly, it occurred to her that if her grandfather really was in danger, then getting the law involved would make matters worse, for all parties involved.

Not only that, but if the police opened up an investigation for a missing person, they would have to start snooping around in her own life, unearthing all the crimes she had so desperately tried to bury in her past.

She had no one to talk about this—Aurora had left only an hour before to return home, and had left Zara to deal with the situation on her own. Could she talk to Max about this? Of course not. They had only just started getting closer, and he wouldn't understand. None of her friends could really understand, they would probably think that she was overreacting, like that fateful night of the burglary.

Zara would let this play out on its own. If by the end of the week Simon didn't show up, she would flush her inhibitions down the toilet and go investigate on her own. That voice in her head told her to wait, so she would.

That didn't stop her from mulling it over the next day.

Zara went through her classes on autopilot. The teachers would explain concepts on the board and she would write them down without even paying attention to what they were. She would be present in a conversation, but not really take part of it, preferring to just let their words go through one ear and out the other. Zara didn't even care that Robert threw her dirty looks whenever they crossed each other in the hallways, followed by lesser ones from his new recruitments.

Nobody seemed to notice her change in demeanour, or at least that's what she thought.

"I'll need you to see me after class," Mr. Lawrence said, watching Zara pack her belongings from behind his reading glasses. She pursed her lips and zipped up her backpack, plopping back down on her seat to rest her head on it. It wasn't even comfortable—she was trying to avoid the curious glances the other students gave her, including her friends. Saffron patted her shoulder before he left the room, followed by a giggling Aurora and a grinning Orion.

Busted, Orion had mouthed just before he disappeared into the crowd.

Asshole.

Her teacher stood up and closed the door, muting the cacophony of voices that arose from the previous stillness. Zara could still see various heads bob by through the glass in the door, and she longed to be amongst them so she could go home. It had been a very long day and she certainly was not in the mood for a lecture from an English teacher.

Mr. Lawrence returned to his desk, finished adjusting the stack of papers, then moved to sit on the table in front of Zara's. He pulled the chair out and rested his feet on it. "You can wake up now."

Zara groggily lifted her head, her teachers sudden proximity making her slightly uncomfortable. She made sure to keep the bag on the table, a barrier which kept her nerves intact.

"What's wrong? You seemed to be a little distracted today."

Oh shit, Zara thought, rubbing her temple. This was one of the many downfalls of being a good student—a tiny change, and the teachers swamped to see how you were doing.

"I'm fine, just had a long week-end," Zara forced a smile on her face and slowly nodded, focusing her attention on an engraving of a dinosaur in the table.

He pulled a pencil out of his dress shirt's front pocket and began to tap it against the palm of his hand.

"Long week-end, eh?" He tapped the pencil against his neck, "How's the assignment going? Where's Maximilian?"

The events of the week-end flashed across her mind.

"He's...He won't be able to come to school, at least not for the rest of the week..." She felt bile rise up to her throat—had the school already been informed of his absence, or did she make a big mistake?

"Oh?" Mr. Lawrence stopped tapping the pencil, but then started again almost instantly. The nervous tic was starting to get on her own nerves. She wanted to grab the pencil and fling it away. "Are you aware about his...current situation?"

Zara's eyes widened at the remark.

"He's had a lot of unexplained absences. If he misses another week...I'm afraid I'm going to have to fail him." He shook his head, then smiled, "But don't worry about him, you're still doing very well, one of the best in the class actually! That is why I'm urging you to work alone for this assignment. You only have...what, two weeks left? Including this one? I really thought that he was a dedicated student, but instead I have once again been disappointed. I don't want you to be brought down as well."

It's not his fault he was beaten half to death.

"Is there any way around this? Can't he bring in a medical certificate or something? What happened to him wasn't exactly something in his control..." It was a weird feeling, defending someone other than her usual friends, but at the same time it felt...right.

Maybe because she considered him her friend now?

Mr. Lawrence narrowed his eyes at her, but then a knowing smile snuck onto his face. "Well, if he gets a medical certificate, signed by a legal guardian, and turns in all the homework I have assigned and will assign over the next week, then everything should be peachy." He slid off the table and went to his desk to pull out a notepad. He scribbled down a list and ripped the page out, handing it to Zara.

"The solidarity amongst students is what makes me love this job so much." He sniffed and brought a fist to his nose, "I suggest that you go around to the other teachers as well. You're doing a good thing here.

Maximilian should have someone like you around."

"Thank- you, Mr. Lawrence." She grinned and swung her backpack over a shoulder.

"Have a nice day," He cooed, as she opened the door and left the room.

Every cloud has a silver lining after all.

-:-

She found herself escorted to the front gate of the Rubair mansion, a few hours later, by a group of armed men. They were similar to the ones of who worked for Roman, and despite the fact that they weren't the same men, they had left a more favourable impression on Zara. She was frisked, for security purposes, but it was almost like being in an airport; she had to walk through a metal detector, and then had her backpack searched. Zara had offered no opposition, and hadn't felt violated in any way—unlike that other night, where she was treated like a dangerous animal.

As they walked up the pathway which lead to a grandiose front door, Zara admired the scenery, her hands clutching her backpack straps. The mansion was even larger than Aurora's, and even more breathtaking. The Spanish Colonial Revival architecture looked like something out of an ancient history textbook. The archways, the white stucco exterior; it was like taking a step back in time, back into the Rubair family's homeland.

It was truly fascinating.

At the front door, one of the men leaned in and pressed the doorbell. Footsteps ensued moments later, and the door inched upon, revealing an elderly butler. As he observed her from behind his sharp hooked nose, Zara kept her gaze on the crease in his forehead, and her shoulders rolled back. After he broke eye contact to nod at the men behind her, he stepped back, opening the door a little wider for her to step in. She expected the others to follow suit, but they all turned and made their way back down the path. The butler closed the door and his arm fell limply to his side.

He sized her up with a disdainful look on his face, then pointed to her muddy boots. His body then unmoving, he said, "Remove your shoes."

Zara raised an eyebrow, then looked down at her boots, which were muddy and had left a little dirty puddle underneath her. She untied them and slipped them off, setting them carefully against the wall and stepping away from them.

After what sounded like a snort, the butler began to march away, snapping his fingers to a nearby maid and pointing towards the mess Zara had left on the floor. The girl, who looked no older than twenty, dipped her head and hurried away, probably to look for a mop.

Zara padded behind the butler, taking in her surroundings while at the same time, she thought about what was to come. The image of Max, laying in bed pale and helpless, came to mind, and her heart squeezed in her chest. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and rubbed an eye. She tried to remain optimistic—he had been well enough to text her, which meant that he was now well enough to see her.

They climbed a a spiral staircase, a different hand-painted design on each step, then walked down a long hallway lined by different coloured doors. A few of them were closed, others were wide open, giving her only small glimpses into the different rooms.

At the end of the hallway, the butler stopped in his tracks and turned mechanically towards a sky-blue door.

After two knocks, a voice responded, so he pushed the door open and stepped in. Zara tried to follow him, but he stopped her with a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Wait here." He shut the door in her face. A niggling sense of inadequacy overcame her. These people were regal, accustomed to a social etiquette that was unknown to Zara. She disliked the way they treated her, like an insect that should be exterminated, but she tried to maintain the calm facade that had stopped her from slapping the snootiness out of that butler. It wasn't their fault—she was the one out of place.

Were they talking about her? She had to find out. She placed her ear against the door, but the people in the room spoke a language unknown to her. The butler's annoying nasal voice was a stark contrast to what sounded like Max's deeper voice. He responded with one-word answers, probably fed up with the man. Zara heard footsteps approaching her and she immediately jumped away; the last thing she wanted was to be caught eavesdropping. The door opened and the butler came out with an miffed expression on his face. "He is ready for you," he said, then closed the door and stormed away.

Zara couldn't help but giggle at him, but when she realised that Max was waiting for her behind that door, she sobered and combed a hand through her hair. It got entangled with her wild curls, so she decided to leave it alone. She smoothened the tiny creases in her woollen sweater and took a deep breath.

I got this.

She slowly pushed open the door and walked in, the light in the room flooding her senses. In the far end of the room, on a single-bed sat Max, propped up against five different pillows. The lower portion of his body was covered by a crisp white blanket, while thick bandages were wrapped around his chest, and his cut and bruised arm rested in a sling. His hair was wild around his face, and a purple bruise surrounded an eye, He even seemed to be a little pale, but overall he looked pretty healthy.

Max observed her with his one green eye and a somber expression. Feeling a little embarrassed, Zara looked around for a place to sit, and noticed a chair beside the door. The room was pretty empty, with only a bed, a small table, and the chair for furniture. The rest seemed to have been taken out of the room, as the others seemed to have been well-furnished and more habitable.

It was almost like she was standing in a hospital room.

"Hi," Zara muttered as she placed her bag on the floor and sat down.

"Hey..." Max's voice trailed off as he looked down at her polkadot socks, "He made you take off your shoes, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he seems to be a little uptight. But aren't all butlers though?" She smiled, the butterflies in her stomach turning into pterodactyls and screeching.

"I don't know. Maybe?" He shrugged with one shoulder and looked away. His nose flared when he took a breath—it must've hurt him to even inhale. Zara bit her lip, trying to think of something that would break the ensuing awkward silence.

"I talked to Mr. Lawrence today," She said casually, gaining Max's attention again.

"Oh yeah? What did he say?"

"That you have a lot of absences, you risk failing his class, etcetera," She waved her hand around for emphasis.

Max frowned and grabbed a fistful of sheets in a hand. "What else did he say?"

"Not too much. I tried to find a way around it, and I have." She unzipped her bag and rummaged through it, pulling out a handful of papers. "He said that you need to provide the school with a medical certificate for your extended absence, since I told him that you'd be unable to attend for the rest of the week. You also need to do all the homework he's assigned, as well as the one from other teachers. It's all here." She waved the papers around.

"Thank God! Zara you're a lifesaver," He grinned. Zara stood up and went to place the stack on the table.

"Saving damsels in distress, serving as a messenger to the less fortunate. It's all in a day's work." Zara smiled back and Max chuckled. It was music to her ears—she was glad that he was still his old self, despite the injuries.

"My hero!" Max cried out in falsetto, placing the back of his hand against his forehead. "Why are you sitting all the way over there?" He suddenly asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Come here."

Zara didn't hesitate, to get up and saunter towards him, dragging the chair behind her.

"No not there. Sit on the bed with me. There's enough room for two."

Oh God, he's being cheeky again.

Max slowly leaned forwards and inched away, and Zara helped to readjust his wall of pillows. After he gave her a thumbs up, she slowly lowered herself on the bed, a little too close to him. The mattress was hard, not like her soft one back at home.

"I didn't think you'd come visit me," Max said under his breath. He averted his gaze from her face to her mane, and reached out to tug at a curl. "I didn't expect anyone to come for that matter. Everybody hates me now." He lowered his hand and rested it besides her thigh.

"Not everyone," Zara swallowed, looking down at her lap, "I don't hate you." She tentatively took his hand in both of hers. His was warm, and much larger than her own, with faded scars along the fingers and a rough palm. Zara gently traced a finger over his wounded knuckles, loving the feel of his hand in hers. It was like her hand belonged there, with his.

"Really?" He looked down at their intertwined hands, then back at her. "I know I deserved the beating I got. I screwed with the girl of the wrong guy. But what I did to you? I basically brought hell to your life, messed with other girls while you were watching...I'm a complete douchebag. Anyone else would've left me there to die."

"But I didn't? Didn't I? I hauled your ass out of there, you know why? Because we all make mistakes. We all mess up, and I know that you're a different Max to the one I met that night."

He squeezed her hand. "Shame. I thought I was still that sexy, rugged, muchacho..."

Zara rolled her eyes, and playfully punched his arm. He groaned, which made her burst into laughter, "That sexy rugged muchacho that can't take a punch."

Max's feigned horror—his mouth fell open and his eye fluttered. "How dare you! I'll have you know that I got about four of those guys before they finally got to me. I'm like the mighty Hercules..."

The door swung open as Roman burst in, his face hidden behind two paper bags filled to the brim with junk food. Max and Zara let go of each others hands like they had been given an electric shock. "Hola primito! I know how crappy the food they're giving you is so I decided to go out and get you—Oh, hello! Fancy seeing you here." The bags parted like the Red Sea, revealing his face and his pearly-whites. He trudged over to the small table and dropped the bags onto it, disregarding what was on it already.

"Uhm, hi," Zara smiled sheepishly, waving limply, "you're...Roman right?"

"Right on the money." Roman seemed so jolly that it had the other two throwing a look at one another.

"Didn't expect to see you here. Max hasn't had any visitors, except me. Even then, he refuses to talk."

"You should know why," Max said through gritted teeth. He still hadn't forgiven his cousin for the betrayal of the other night. On top of that, Roman's barging in had ruined the playful mood between Max and Zara, and it was now irretrievable. He could sense her slight discomfort in his cousin's presence.

"Im trying to make things right," Roman whinged, and scratched the back of his neck. He turned to dig through the bags in silence.

"What happened?" Zara whispered to Max, feeling a twinge of guilt.

"Don't worry about it," Max said, his gaze softening as he looked back at her. He placed his hand on the small of her back and she smiled.

Roman suddenly cleared his throat and lifted two bags in the air, one with M&Ms and one with gummy bears. "I got a lot more, but you will have to choose between these two for now." His radiance had returned, just a little dimmer than before.

"I'll have the M&Ms..."

"And I'll have nothing, thank you very much," Max spat venomously, his glare following Roman as he handed the now opened bag over to Zara, who muttered a 'thank-you'.

"It's clear that I am not wanted here," Roman said, striding over to the door, "You have a good afternoon, Zara," He nodded at her unsmiling, then left the room, slamming the door after him.

"Did you have to be that way?" Zara glared at Max, the bag still in her hand.

"Yes, I did." He moved his hand away from her, and placed it on his lap, keeping his gaze on the far wall.

The emptiness Zara felt in that moment from the gesture was overwhelming.

"Now, I don't know what happened, but I think that you're in the wrong. He's obviously trying to fix—"

"You're right, you don't know what happened! So why don't you just shut up and mind your own business?!" Max hadn't realised what he just said, until it was too late. Zara's face wouldn't have given away her reaction had it not been that her lower lip slightly quivered.

"Fuck you." She slid off the bed and stomped over to her backpack, to scoop it up.

"Zara...no, I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me, I wasn't thinking!" Max threw the blanket off him and tried to go after her, but he was too damaged to get out of bed. He hissed as his arm on his injured side involuntarily jerked forwards, sending a shooting pain through his bruised ribs.

"You have all the time you need to think now," Zara placed her hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. "Also, I'm taking the M&Ms. Talk to me when you're not an asshole."

She left the room in a hurry, shoving chocolate into her mouth.

-:-