I collapsed back onto the couch, the ache in my chest spreading through my entire body.

An hour passed, and the doctor still hadn’t arrived. I managed to grab my phone, my hands trembling as I dialed Damon’s number. It rang and rang, but he didn’t answer.

A chime interrupted the silence, and I glanced at the screen. A message from Damon.

{Try to get better, Amara. I had picked the doctor to come check up on Miranda. I don’t want to risk anything with her.}

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. My hand fell limply to my lap, the phone slipping from my grasp. My heart felt like it had been ripped out, stomped on, and discarded.

Risk anything with her? What about me?

I stared at the door, hoping, praying he’d walk back in, that he’d realize what he was doing to me. But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t.

The room felt colder than ever as the reality of it all settled over me. I was alone.

I stared at my phone countless times, willing it to ring, to vibrate, to do something that would prove Damon cared enough to call back. With trembling hands, I took it and dialed his number again. The ringing seemed louder in the oppressive silence of the room. When it cut to voicemail, my heart sank even deeper

I needed air. Anything to escape the suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. Wrapping myself in a coat, I stepped outside, the cold biting my fevered skin.

I clung to the hope that Damon might appear, that he’d realize his mistake and come for me, like he always did in the past. But the streets were empty. Only the crunch of snow under my boots accompanied me as I shuffled weakly forward.

My vision blurred, and my steps faltered.The ground rushed toward me, but before I hit it, strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me.

“Damon?” I whispered weakly, clinging to the hope it was him.

But when I looked up, I met a pair of steel-gray eyes—not Damon’s striking cerulean ones.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was deep, commanding, laced with concern that resonated in my ears as my vision darkened.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. My body sagged against his hold.

“Hey, stay with me!” His sharp tone demanded my attention, but I couldn’t fight it anymore. My eyelids fluttered shut, and the world faded away, leaving only the echo of his voice ringing in my ears.

- - - - -

The antiseptic scent hit me the moment my eyes fluttered open. The sterile white walls and soft hum of machines confirmed I was in a hospital. Blinking against the fluorescent light, I turned my head and froze. A slightly familiar, strikingly handsome face was watching me.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said, his voice softer than I expected.

I swallowed, my throat dry and scratchy. “Who are you?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “I brought you here.”

My mind raced to piece together the fragments of my memory. “Oh... thanks for that.” I nodded, realizing my manners had slipped. “You are?”

“Tyler. Kennedy,” he said, tilting his head as if expecting recognition.

“Tyler Kennedy?” I repeated, squinting at him. His name tugged at a distant memory.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Goodness, you’ve forgotten me, Amara.”

The smile on his face sparked clarity, and my breath caught. “Tyler. You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Took you forever to remember me,” he teased. “Meanwhile, I never forgot you.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and nostalgia. He had attended high school with Aaron, my brother. I remembered him as the quiet but sharp-witted guy who was always over at our house during study sessions.

He studied me, his gaze laced with curiosity. “You should be in Dallas with your family. What are you doing here in California?”

I stiffened, the question slicing through me. What could I say? That I’d run away from home seven years ago because my father rejected my relationship with Damon? That my father despised Damon, comparing him to his own conniving father and accusing him of insincerity? No. I couldn’t tell Tyler all that.

“I just needed a change of scenery,” I said lightly, hoping the smile I forced would sell the lie.

He nodded, seemingly convinced. “Still, I wasn’t expecting to find you collapsing on the street. What happened?”

“I’ve been under the weather lately,” I mumbled. “Guess it caught up with me.”

The door creaked open, and the doctor walked in. After a brief examination, he explained that I had the flu and needed to rest, take my medication, and be more cautious about overexerting myself. “You’re free to leave after collecting your prescription from the pharmacy.”

Tyler held up a small paper bag, shaking it gently. “Already taken care of.”

Surprised, I glanced at him. “Thank you.”

As we left the hospital, I stopped outside the main entrance, turning to him. “About the medication... I’ll pay you back.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into an easy smile. “It’s not necessary, darling.”

“Thank you,” I said again, unsure of what else to say. “Where have you been all these years?”

“Paris,” he replied. “Just got back recently. Thought I’d settle down here for a while.”

I hesitated, then said, “Um, about my family…”

“Aaron said they’ve been looking for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

I sighed, my chest tightening at the thought of my brother. We barely talk. And my father, I haven’t spoken to him in over five years, not since I asked him to let me live my life with the one I love.

Regaining my voice, I asked, “Please,can you keep our encounter a secret?"

Tyler’s gaze softened, but he didn’t push. “Sure, Amara,” he said after a pause, though the flicker of surprise in his eyes didn’t escape me.

He drove me home in silence, and as we pulled into the driveway, my stomach churned. Damon’s car was parked outside. My heart sank. So he was back.

Inside, I found him pacing in the living room. The moment he saw me, his expression shifted to one of annoyance and concern. “Where were you? I was worried.”

I dropped my bag by the door and crossed my arms. “Were you worried, or is this just for show?”

His jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I said, stepping closer, “you’re good at pretending. Like when you left me last night, barely breathing, to rush to Miranda.”

He bristled, his hands clenching at his sides. “That’s not fair. I saw you today, Amara. In another man’s arms.”

I froze. “So you’re keeping an eye on me now, Damon?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly, his eyes darkening. “What happened? Did he touch you? You probably enjoyed it, considering we couldn’t finish what we started last night.”

The audacity of his words stung, and I yanked my arm from his grasp. “You’ve got some nerve,” I hissed, turning to leave.

Before I could take a step, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, pressing me against his chest. “You always walk away when things get hard,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

“That’s not my habit,” I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. “It’s yours.”

His grip on me tightened. His touch burned, and despite myself, I flinched. His gaze softened momentarily, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I shook my head, my voice breaking. “You left me... while I was ebbing out of life. And for what? Miranda?”

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice heavy with excuses.

I stared at him, waiting for more, but his silence only deepened the rift between us.

I watched him as he stepped closer, his face softening, an expression of regret etched deeply into his features. “Amara,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I was... scared and confused, but I promise—” His hand grazed mine, his touch warm yet tentative. “I’ll never do that again. I swear.”

His sincerity made my heart ache, but skepticism tugged at the edges of my thoughts. I wanted to believe him, to let his words soothe the gnawing doubt, but I’d learned the hard way that promises could break just as easily as they were made.

“Let me make it up to you,” he continued, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll spend the day with you. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us.”

I hesitated but nodded. “Alright.”

He smiled, relief flashing across his face. “Good. Let’s start with lunch.” He was already moving toward the kitchen, his steps quick and determined.

I leaned against the counter as he worked, watching his movements. Damon had always been confident in the kitchen, and it was one of the things I used to admire about him. Pots clanged and the scent of spices filled the air. He glanced back at me, his boyish grin peeking through as he chopped, stirred, and tasted.

“You’re still the show-off chef, I see,” I teased lightly.

“And still the best,” he quipped, throwing me a wink.

When he finally called me to the table, the spread looked incredible. Plates of vibrant dishes sat steaming, evidence of his skill. But as he started dishing out the food, I froze. The distinct shape and scent of crabs hit me, and my stomach churned.

“Why crabs?” I asked, my voice sharp. “You know I’m allergic to them.”

He blinked, caught off guard, then recovered quickly. “Oh, right. Sorry about that.” He set the plate down, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Miranda loves crabs. She introduced me to them, and now I can’t get enough. Did you know she likes them cooked in this special garlic butter sauce? It’s her favorite. She always does this cute thing where she—”

“Stop,” I snapped, my voice trembling with barely contained frustration. His words felt like stabs, each one twisting deeper. I could barely keep my composure as he rambled on about her.

“Amara,” he started, his tone still too light, too oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

I slammed my hands on the table, cutting him off. “But I’m not Miranda.” My voice echoed, heavy with anger and hurt.

His expression faltered, the reality of my words finally sinking in.

Damon's face fell when he saw my reaction, and the remorse in his eyes softened the sharp edges of my anger. “Amara,” he said, his voice low and thick with regret. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

I crossed my arms, still fuming, but his apology slowed the fire burning in my chest. He took a step closer, his hands reaching out like he wanted to touch me but wasn’t sure if he should. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmured. “I’ll be more thoughtful next time. I promise.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the counter. Damon glanced at the screen, his lips pressing into a tight line. Without a word, he turned away, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

When he returned, he held the small paper bag of my medication. “Is this yours?” he asked, his tone neutral.

I nodded. “Yes, it’s mine.”

He shrugged casually and placed it on the table. He didn’t ask why I had them or even look at me longer than a few seconds. The weight of his indifference felt heavier than I expected.

“I need to leave,” he said, pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders. “Duty calls. Sorry, love.”

Before I could ask what was so important, he leaned in and pressed a quick peck to my temple. The gesture was warm, yet fleeting, like an afterthought. “I’ll order some nice food for you,” he added as he straightened, already halfway to the door. “You can have it when it gets here.”

I stood frozen, staring at his retreating figure. The sound of the door clicking shut echoed in the quiet room, leaving me alone with a whirlwind of thoughts. My eyes darted to the bag of drugs sitting idly on the table. It felt like a symbol of something more—a wedge, a reminder of how far apart we’d grown.

The warmth of his apology had barely settled before his swift departure left a hollow ache in its place. He didn’t even ask why I had the medication. No probing questions, no curiosity, no concern. I couldn’t tell if he genuinely trusted me or if he simply didn’t care enough to dig deeper.

I let out a heavy sigh and sank into the nearest chair. The crabs, the dismissive shrug, the fleeting kiss—all of it painted a picture I didn’t want to see but couldn’t ignore. Was this what love had become for us? A series of half-hearted gestures and unspoken disappointments?

The silence in the room wrapped around me, and I realized I wasn’t sure if I wanted the food he’d ordered or if I wanted to scream. Maybe both.

The next day, Damon came home from work earlier than usual. He walked in, loosened his tie, and looked at me with a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness. “Get ready,” he said as he sank into the couch.

“For what?” I asked, my voice laced with wariness.

“Miranda’s housewarming party is tonight,” he replied, leaning forward. “I want you to come with me. I want everyone to know you’re my woman.”

The words should have made me feel special, but they didn’t. Instead, I felt a gnawing reluctance. “I don’t know,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes. “Maybe I should just stay home.”

He stood, closing the space between us. “Come on, Amara,” he said softly, his hands lightly brushing my arms. “It’ll mean a lot to me.”

It took some convincing, but I finally agreed. Later, as I dressed, Damon walked into the room and came up behind me, his hands sliding around my waist. I froze, feeling the warmth of his breath against my neck.

“You look nice,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

I managed a small smile, my heart betraying me with a flutter I didn’t want to feel. Then he pulled something from his pocket and held it up—a pair of silver earrings with tiny teardrop crystals. They sparkled delicately under the light, though they weren’t quite my style.

“They’ll suit you perfectly,” he said, carefully helping me put them on. His fingers were gentle, his touch lingering just a moment too long. I didn’t have the heart to tell him they weren’t my preference, so I smiled faintly and accepted them. After all, he gave them with love.

We arrived at Miranda’s place, a sleek, modern house with perfectly manicured lawns and an air of opulence. Inside, the space was just as extravagant, filled with polished floors and a crowd of equally polished people. Damon led me through the room until we came across his friends, Sam and Jody.

“Amara,” Sam said with a tight-lipped smile that barely masked his disdain. “Nice to see you.”

Jody gave me a quick once-over before offering an insincere, “You look...nice.”

Their fake niceties grated on me, especially when they exchanged smirks the moment Damon turned his attention elsewhere.

Then Miranda strutted over, her newly dyed hair bouncing with every step. She threw her arms around me in an exaggerated hug. “Amara! You look lovely tonight,” she cooed.

I forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Sam, ever the charmer, practically drooled over her. “Miranda, that hair color is stunning on you. You’re glowing.”

Damon chuckled, nodding in agreement. “It suits her, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Jody added, her voice tinged with a subtle jab. “Only someone with Miranda’s confidence could pull that off.”

Miranda tilted her head modestly. “Oh, stop it,” she giggled. “Damon, thank you again for coming over yesterday to help with the preparations. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

My stomach dropped. Yesterday? While I thought he had left for work?

“Duty calls,” Damon said smoothly, his face unreadable. Those were the same words he has said yesterday and I was foolish to have thought he was going to the company. She was the duty he could never give up on fulfilling.