The office felt different after the rooftop kiss.
To everyone else, it was just another Monday. Phones rang, keyboards clicked, and meetings blurred into one another. But for Amara ,every second was sharp, alive, and unbearably awkward.
Because Daniel wasn't looking at her.
Not once.
He came in on time, greeted their colleagues, and even joked with the receptionist the way he always did. But when it came to her, he was… polite. Professional. Detached.
Exactly what she thought she wanted.
So why did it sting?
By the third day of this new coldness, Amara was unraveling. She caught herself glancing at him across the table, waiting for the usual smirk, the teasing remark, the spark in his eyes. But all she got was a clipped nod or a brisk comment about the project.
She should've been relieved. Instead, an unfamiliar ache bloomed in her chest.
Wednesday evening, she stayed late at the office, drowning in spreadsheets she barely needed to review. The truth was, she didn't want to go home to the silence, not when her head was filled with memories of the way his lips had felt on hers.
She jumped when the door opened.
Daniel.
Her heart leapt before she could stop it, but his expression was unreadable as he stepped inside. "Forgot my notebook," he said simply, crossing the room.
"Oh." Her voice came out thinner than she intended.
He picked up the leather-bound book from the table, flipping it shut. For a moment, it seemed like he might leave without another word. But then, his gaze caught hers—briefly, tightly—and something flickered in his eyes.
"You don't have to stay this late, you know," he said. His tone was cool, but not unkind.
"I like finishing my work," she replied defensively.
"Or maybe you're hiding behind it."
The words hit harder than she expected. "Excuse me?"
He shrugged, adjusting the strap of his bag. "It's none of my business. Just… don't use work as an excuse to run from what you want."
Before she could respond, he was gone.
Amara sat frozen, her pulse racing.
What I want.
The problem was, she didn't even know anymore.
⸻
The next day was torture. Daniel's professional mask held firm, but she caught the tiny cracks in it—like when his hand brushed hers as they passed a file, and he pulled away a little too quickly. Or when she laughed at something another colleague said, and she could feel his gaze on her, sharp and unguarded, before he forced it away.
By Friday afternoon, she couldn't take it anymore.
She cornered him in the break room, her heart pounding. "Why are you acting like this?"
Daniel turned slowly, his expression calm but his eyes blazing. "Like what?"
"Like I don't exist."
He let out a humorless laugh. "Funny. That's exactly how you wanted it, isn't it? For me to forget what happened."
Her throat tightened. "I never said—"
"You didn't have to." He stepped closer, not enough to touch but enough to make her feel the heat of his presence. "You kissed me back, Amara.Don't pretend you didn't. And then you pushed me away like it meant nothing."
The truth in his voice shook her.
"I was scared," she admitted in a whisper before she could stop herself.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Daniel studied her, his jaw tense. For a heartbeat, she thought he might soften, might pull her into the warmth she secretly craved. But instead, he exhaled and shook his head.
"Figure out what you want," he said quietly. "Because I'm not going to keep chasing someone who keeps running."
Then he walked out, leaving her breathless all over again.
⸻
That night, Amara lay awake, her mind replaying every moment. The kiss. His distance. His words.
Figure out what you want.
The truth pressed in on her, heavy and undeniable.
She wanted him.
But wanting him meant risking everything—the fragile control she'd built, the safety of keeping her heart locked away.
And Amara had no idea if she was brave enough to take that risk.
⸻