The next morning dawned pale and heavy, the sky a dull wash of gray over P City. Amara Castellanos woke to the quiet hum of her alarm and a tight knot sitting in her chest.
Today was the day she would move into the house Mr. Navarro had prepared—the house she was supposed to share with Kael.
She sat at the edge of her bed, staring at her packed suitcases. The thought of "sharing" anything with Kael made her throat tighten. Two weeks had passed since he'd stormed into her apartment, every word he'd thrown at her sharp and cruel. Each sentence still replayed in her mind when the world fell quiet.
He didn't want her. Not beside him, not in his home, not in his life.
So she'd convinced herself that it would be easier if she stayed there alone. She could fulfil the six-month agreement, as promised to Mr. Navarro, and keep her heart safely locked away. She would live in the house, in the silence, away from Kael's shadow.
She had almost made peace with that thought—until she heard the soft knock on her door.
"Amara?"
Damian's voice. Warm. Steady. The kind of voice that always found her when she was about to break.
She looked up as he stepped inside, casual and calm as always, his sleeves rolled up, his dark hair slightly tousled. He carried two of her heavier suitcases as if they weighed nothing.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his gaze softening when it met hers.
Amara nodded, adjusting her glasses with trembling fingers. "Yes. Thank you, Damian. I don't know what I'd do without you."
He smiled faintly. "You don't have to thank me, Amara. You don't owe me anything."
But his tone—low, sure—said something else entirely.
I'm here because I want to be.
As they loaded her bags into his car, the morning light broke through the clouds, bathing the streets in a washed-out glow. Neither of them spoke much during the drive. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding.
Still, Damian's knuckles tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
He'd watched Kael wound her again and again—sometimes with words, sometimes with silence. Damian had stood by for years, hoping Kael would realize what he had before it was too late. But now? He wasn't waiting anymore.
Kael didn't deserve her kindness.
And if Kael couldn't see Amara's worth, Damian would.
He would show her, little by little, what it meant to be loved without conditions, without pride, without pain.
When they arrived at the Navarro estate, Amara's breath caught.
The house stood tall and immaculate, a vision of understated luxury. White walls gleamed beneath the morning light, and ivy climbed gracefully along the edges like a painter's brushstroke. The gardens bloomed in quiet harmony—roses, jasmine, and the faint scent of rain still clinging to the air.
"It's beautiful," Amara whispered.
Damian carried her bags inside, his movements quiet but deliberate. "It suits you," he said, glancing around. "Peaceful. Warm. You could be happy here."
She smiled faintly, though her heart ached. "Yes. I just wish…"
Her words faded as the sound of an approaching engine filled the air.
A sleek black car pulled into the driveway, its tinted windows reflecting the sky. The vehicle came to a halt, and the moment the door opened, her breath stilled.
Kael.
He stepped out with his usual composure—crisp suit, perfect posture, the faintest furrow between his brows. His presence seemed to shift the air around him.
For one fragile heartbeat, Amara's heart lifted.
He came.
Maybe, despite everything, he'd changed his mind. Maybe he hadn't meant those words from two weeks ago. Maybe he'd come because he—
"Kael," she whispered, her voice almost trembling. "What are you doing here?"
Kael's eyes flicked to Damian first—sharp, cold, possessive—before resting on her.
"My grandfather's orders," he said smoothly. "He insisted I live here. If I don't, he'll freeze all my cards."
The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly.
Amara's heart faltered. "Oh… I see."
The words felt like ice down her spine. The hope she'd allowed herself to feel crumbled instantly.
Damian's jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. He knew Kael too well. He knew Kael's accounts were separate, that Mr. Navarro couldn't touch them.
Kael wasn't here because of obligation.
He was here because of her.
Because the thought of Damian and Amara under one roof had ignited something ugly in him—something he refused to name.
Kael's gaze shifted back to Damian, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. "You can go now," he said flatly. "She won't need your help anymore."
Damian didn't move. "Actually," he said evenly, "I'd like to make sure she's settled first."
Amara stepped between them, her voice soft but trembling. "It's fine, Damian. Really."
Damian's eyes lingered on her for a long moment before he nodded. "If you need anything," he said, "call me."
When he left, the silence between her and Kael deepened, heavy and brittle.
"Just stay out of my way," Kael said coldly, walking past her. "I'm only here because I have no choice."
Amara flinched as the words cut through her like glass. "I… understand."
He didn't look back.
She watched him disappear down the hall, every step of his echoing through her ribs. Her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
She'd told herself she wouldn't cry again—not over him. But her heart had other plans.
That night, the house was quiet. Too quiet.
The moonlight spilled through the wide bedroom windows, painting soft ribbons across the floor. Amara sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The emptiness of the house pressed in on her like a weight.
She thought of the day when they were still young—the warmth of his laugh, the kindness he used to show when no one else was looking. Somewhere along the way, that boy had vanished, replaced by the man who stood before her now.
A man ruled by pride, by guilt, by walls too high for anyone to climb.
"I'm only here because I have no choice."
The words replayed in her mind, cold and merciless.
She whispered them aloud, her voice breaking. "No choice…"
The ache spread through her chest until she had to close her eyes. For a moment, she wished she could stop loving him altogether.
But even as she sat there in the silence, another memory broke through—the way Damian had looked at her earlier. The steady warmth in his eyes. The way he'd said, "You don't have to face this alone."
He hadn't said much. But he hadn't needed to.
He saw her. Really saw her.
And that thought—small, fragile, but real—kept her from falling apart.
Amara lay back slowly, the faint scent of jasmine drifting in from the open window. Her chest still hurt, but the pain wasn't sharp anymore. It was dull, aching, and familiar.
Outside, she could hear Kael moving in the next room—the faint rustle of papers, the closing of a door. The distance between them was only a wall thick, but it felt like worlds apart.
As sleep finally tugged her under, a quiet truth settled in her heart.
Kael had come—not because he had to, but because he couldn't bear the thought of her being someone else's.
He just wasn't brave enough to admit it.