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I wake up in the morning when dad is leaving for work, feeling disappointed that Xavier didn't fulfill his promise. He said he would call me when he got free, and might even come over. He might not have actually meant that, but calling wasn't so hard, was it?

My mood lifts and mind changes when I see his messages.

11:47 -- Xavier: 'I'm free but don't want to disturb your sleep. If you reply to this, I'll call. Otherwise sweet dreams, Haley.'

12:03 -- Xavier: 'Sleep tight. X.'

I'm smiling again, unable to wipe the goofy grin off my face even when I get dressed and leave my room. Not before I reply to Xavier, however.

8:12 -- Haley: 'Aren't you just the nicest? Can't wait to see you tonight, though. Will wait up. X.'

8:13 -- Haley: 'P.S. The window will be open anyways.'

Humming to myself, I bounce down the stairs two at a time. Now that I have appeared in my final exams for high school, I have nothing to do except wait for the final results. Being free feels amazing!

I have life all thought out. I'm going to Stanford to study Advanced Geometrical Calculus, getting my own place, a car, and just being there, independent and strong, not my dad's little girl anymore. Although I have thought about it several times, the fact that I won't be living with dad anymore, he has been nothing but okay with it.

It was always the planned out future, something dad has been supportive of. He always supports my decision, whether they be wrong or right, and that gives me the strength and confidence of taking chances. Being risky. Being myself.

And that worries me too, because I am nothing without my dad. Even though I really want to go out and be my own person, find my own strength and just be somebody without training wheels, it also scares me. What if I can't do it? What if I can't live up to my own expectations? What if I change and become someone my dad didn't raise me to be? What if I let him -- and myself -- down?

"Breakfast is ready," dad announces when he hears me enter the kitchen.

"You never let me spoil you," I pout, and my dad beams towards me.

"This is my time to spoil you," he says, wiggling his eyebrows. "Then you'll move into your own place, all grown up. I promise you you'll miss my pancakes."

I snort loudly, rolling my eyes and waving a hand as I turn away from his gaze. He and I both know how dependent I am on him, and just the thought of being apart tears me apart and makes me weak in the knees. Especially when I think about the fact that he has spent his entire life taking care of me. How can I just get up and leave him now?

Dad leaves for work, and I sit on the couch all day in front of the TV, dressed in my pajamas and my hair the messiest it has ever been. I feel like my mom, waiting for something big to happen. Only, she didn't like staying at home and I love it. What's not to love about being alone at home and comfy?

Then again ... my home is comfy. I can't help but wonder about people who don't have this kind of a home.

That gets me thinking about Xavier, who still hasn't replied. I check my phone every few minutes, sending short and -- totally unlike the insecure girlfriend I'm feeling like -- neutral texts to remind him of my presence.

He doesn't respond, and when my phone rings, I nearly dive off the couch and launch myself towards the charger where my phone is connected for recharging. Without glancing at the name, I answer the call and put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I gasp breathlessly, grabbing the edge of a table to keep myself from falling.

"Haley? Are you okay?" Contrary to my expectation, the voice is not of Xavier. It belongs to a girl instead, and I recognize it as Nancy's.

"Um ... yeah ..." I clear my throat nervously, mentally cursing myself. If I had only bothered to check before I answered the call, I probably wouldn't have answered at all. That's just the kind of person I am, avoiding phone calls at all costs. I would rather wait for the call to end so I can text the other person, apologize for accidentally missing the call, and ask them what they considered so important to talk to me about.

"How are you, Haley?" Nancy asks, and I can sense the caution in her tone.

"Good. What about you?" I ask formally, walking slowly back to the couch and slumping onto it.

"I'm okay." Nancy clears her throat. "How's your dad?"

"Great," I say, waiting for the inevitable.

"And Xav --"

"Why are you asking?" I interrupt, having been more than prepared for this question. I know my friends, and I know how curious they are. Just as much as I am, to be frank.

"Haley, you can let our friendship get affected by --"

"I'm not letting anything affect our friendship," I counter. "It's you that's making a huge deal out of this."

"You're the one who kept it secret from me, your relationship with Xavier Hunt," she snaps.

"I kept my relationship with Xavier a secret because I knew how you'd react to this piece of information," I tell her truthfully. "How would you feel if I treated your boyfriend like you treated Xavier on prom night?"

"Xavier's your boyfriend?" Nancy asks, sounding shocked.

"Oh, no, we just had a one night stand and now we don't even remember each others' names," I say sarcastically, hoping to avoid the precise word 'boyfriend'. I would love for Xavier to be my boyfriend, but I don't want to assume things just yet. Besides, asking him if that's what he is to me or if he wants me to be his girlfriend, would be too freaking soon at this time.

"You're kidding, I know," Nancy says.

"Of course, Nance!" I groan loudly.

"Do you really like him?" Nancy asks more seriously.

"Yes," I answer without thinking about it. This is not something I even have to think about anymore. I know I like Xavier. Maybe more than I should.

"And does he like you?"

"Yes," I answer with the same conviction.

There was a time when I was unsure of this, unable to penetrate through the veil of Xavier's silence and break through the walls he has built around himself. I had been just like all those other people who thought he was 'bad news' and stayed as far away as possible from even his shadow.

Then I saw it ... the pain, the insecurity, the innocence. I saw the hero hiding behind a villain's mask. I saw the demons swirling in his grey eyes. I heard the echoing screams in his silence. And I fell so deep into the whirlwind that is his love, that I forgot how to get out.

"Well ... I'm happy for you guys then," Nancy finally says.

I frown, my inner paranoia peaking dangerously at this point. Why would she suddenly be okay with me and Xavier being together? Is this a trick perhaps?

Thinking rationally, though, I realize Nancy isn't like those backbiting, backstabbing friends. She might not always approve of what I do -- like I might not be okay with everything she does -- but she has been with me through thick and thin. She's like an open book, being on the surface whatever she is on the inside. In simple words, she only has one face.

"Thanks," I say.

"So, about Stanford ..." she begins.

I laugh when she begins to ramble on about how many colleges have rejected her application. After all, Nancy was the one who told me she could get into any college she wants by getting someone on Fiverr to write her personal essay. I knew it was a bad idea. She didn't believe me.

She tells me some of the students of our class had applied at Stanford too, and they have received a response. Not many have been positive.

That makes my heart beat fast, since it means that I might be getting a response to my application soon. It also means my application might be rejected like Nancy's, which would be a huge disappointment, considering that is the college I have been dreaming of attending for as long as I can remember.

Then again, I'm not sure if I want an acceptance either. I've been thinking about it a lot recently, leaving Dad behind and moving on for a better future. I know that's what Dad would want for me, and that's what he always says. But I'm not so sure anymore.

Dad comes back at his usual time, and I have already set the table with food. Since I was home today, I went out of my way to prepare some of my dad's favorite dishes. He rarely gives me the chance to take care of him, and I wanted to show him how much he means to me. It's simple gestures like these that show people how important they are and how much we care about them.

At least that's what Dad always says.

I believe every word he says.

He changes and freshens up, and I serve dinner. A part of my mind is preoccupied with the fact that Xavier hasn't replied all day. I don't want to think too much about it -- he has his own life, of course -- but something inside me can't help but panic.

What if something happened to him?

What if he got stuck in a problem somewhere?

What if he realized he deserves better than me?

The bell rings, and both dad and I look towards the door.

"I'll get it," I say, hurriedly jumping off my seat and dropping my fork in my plate with a loud clang.

A part of me hopes it's Xavier. I doubt it would be him since he would either call or text me, rather than drop by unexpectedly. But then again, I never know what to expect from him. Also, it would be quite awesome if he actually does show up at my doorstep.

What I'm not expecting in the least is the whiteness in his skin or the redness in his eyes. His hands are clenched into fists, and his breathing is shallow and rapid.

I stare at him, my hand curled around the doorknob and my body frozen in place. His state is scaring me, worrying me, causing adrenaline to pump through my veins and my heart to beat loudly in my chest.

"Xavier?" dad asks, appearing behind me and looking out from over my shoulder. "Is everything okay, son?"

Something about Xavier's appearance already tells me the answer to dad's question is anything but affirmative. The tremble in his lips is evident when he opens his mouth to speak, his breathing racked.

I want nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and hug all his pain away, the pain I can see reflected in his beautiful grey eyes.

"Mom ..." he breathes, his voice barely audible. "She's ... gone."

"Gone?" dad voices my question.

Xavier swallows hard, closing his eyes and swaying on the spot.

My arms reach out instinctively to grab him if he needs my support.

"She's ..." His voice is a mere whisper on the wind, barely reaching my eardrums. "Dead."

I gasp, his words knocking the breath right out of me.

Oh, God, no!

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