The city fell away behind her until all that remained was the sound of waves and the whisper of the wind.
Amara Castellanos stood at the edge of the seashore, her shoes sinking slightly into the wet sand. The night stretched endlessly before her, cloaked in indigo and salt. The breeze lifted her hair, cool and damp against her skin, carrying the faint tang of the ocean.
She exhaled shakily. The air hurt going in — sharp, cold, too real.
The sea had always been her refuge, long before everything had become complicated. Before the Navarro estate. Before Kael's rejection. Before she learned that even love could turn cruel.
Now, the tide before her glittered faintly beneath the moonlight, endless and unknowable — much like the space between who she once was and who she had become.
Amara wrapped her arms around herself and began walking along the shore. The sand clung to her shoes, and her skirt fluttered around her legs. Each wave that broke near her feet seemed to whisper something she didn't want to hear.
It was quieter here, but not peaceful. The silence was loud in a different way — it left her alone with her thoughts, and those were louder than anything.
Her mind wouldn't let her go.
Kael's voice echoed in her head, cruel and distant:
"She's just the daughter of our household staff."
It shouldn't have shocked her. She'd always known the line between them was drawn long ago — invisible but indelible. But hearing it, in front of everyone, in his voice… it had split her open in ways she hadn't thought possible.
Her chest tightened until she could barely breathe. She dug her fingers into her arms, trying to hold herself together.
But her heart betrayed her, dragging her back to the beginning — to the memory of when he wasn't the man who had said those words.
Kael Navarro.
She had known him almost her whole life.
Kael's parents had been consumed by their business, rarely home to spend time with their son. As a result, Kael had spent most of his childhood living with his grandfather in the Navarro estate.
Amara's parents had both worked for Mr. Navarro—her father as a driver, her mother as a housekeeper. Mr. Navarro had been a stern but generous man. When he saw how bright Amara was in school, he offered to sponsor her education as a scholar.
She owed him more than she could ever repay.
Back then, she had been a quiet, timid little girl. Her short black hair framed her face awkwardly, and her straight bangs fell into her eyes, giving her a perpetually gloomy appearance. She had always kept her head down, speaking only when spoken to.
Kael hadn't liked her much at first.
To him, she was just the daughter of the staff, a timid creature who barely spoke above a whisper. Their interactions were limited to polite greetings and awkward silences.
But everything changed the night Kael's parents died in a car crash.
Amara remembered it vividly—the phone call, the frantic rush, the storm raging outside. Kael's parents had been in a terrible car crash.
She had found Kael alone in the darkened study—silent and trembling, his world collapsing around him. Without thinking, she went to him, wrapping her small arms around his shaking form.
"Kael," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're not alone."
She murmured words of comfort into his ear, holding him even as he wept himself to sleep.
From that moment, something between them shifted.
Kael began to seek her out more often. Slowly, carefully, their bond grew. They studied together, played games in the estate's gardens, and shared dreams beneath the sprawling night sky.
They grew up side by side. He was the heir to a great family; she was the daughter of the staff—but between them, none of it had ever mattered.
For years, they were each other's constant.
By the time they reached senior high, they were inseparable. Amara was always there when Kael needed her—his anchor, his solace, his safe place.
The tide surged closer, soaking the hem of her skirt. Amara didn't move. She let it. The cold water bit at her skin, but it grounded her — something real, something that hurt the way her heart did.
College had changed him.
She remembered the first time she'd seen Kael with his new friends — a cluster of polished smiles, designer clothes, and carefully measured laughter.
He'd seen her from across the campus courtyard. For a brief, fleeting second, their eyes had met — and something in him had softened. He'd taken a step toward her.
But then someone had called his name — Clariss Moonveil — and he'd stopped.
Kael's circle of friends started to fill with people from his own social standing—wealthy heirs and heiresses who didn't always hide their disdain for her simpler background.
At first, the teasing had seemed light-hearted.
"Kael, didn't know you had a thing for the help."
"Is she your little shadow now? How sweet."
"Careful, Kael—people might start thinking you actually like her."
The words were wrapped in laughter, but the undertone was sharp.
Amara had heard it all. And Kael, caught between discomfort and pride, had never quite known how to respond.
So he would just laugh it off, brushing it aside.
But as time passed, he began to keep his distance.
It wasn't abrupt, but it was noticeable. He stopped walking beside her on campus, stopped inviting her to certain events.
Amara understood.
She always understood.
She told herself it was natural, that she didn't belong in his world. She told herself she was fine standing in the background, waiting quietly until he called for her.
And when he didn't call, she stayed silent.
Her feelings for him deepened in secret, blooming painfully in her chest. She never confessed, never dared.
What she didn't know was that Kael and his friends had always been aware. They saw the way she looked at him, the softness in her voice when she spoke his name.
Kael, too proud and too confused to confront it, buried the truth deep inside himself.
But today…
Today, he had shattered her completely.
The image of him standing coldly in front of everyone, denying her, burned in her mind like a brand.
The finality in his tone, the cruel distance in his eyes—it was more than she could bear.
Her knees gave way, and she sank into the wet sand, sobs tearing from her throat.
The sky seemed to mourn with her, the first raindrops falling heavily, mingling with her tears.
The storm grew quickly, lightning splitting the sky as the rain poured down in relentless sheets.
But Amara didn't move.
"I loved you," she choked out. "I loved you even when I shouldn't have. Even when you stopped looking at me."
The rain didn't stop. It poured harder, as if the heavens themselves mourned with her.
She stayed like that for a long time — a fragile silhouette beneath the storm, breaking in silence while the world kept turning.
By the time the rain began to ease, the horizon had lightened slightly — a faint, grey shimmer hinting at dawn.
Amara's body was numb. Her clothes clung to her like a second skin, heavy and cold. She rose slowly, her legs trembling beneath her, and began to walk.
Each step felt like it took everything she had left.
The city streets were nearly empty. Water pooled in the cracks of the pavement, reflecting the flickering streetlights. The world was quiet, as if holding its breath.
Her feet carried her instinctively — not toward the grand house she had once shared under the Navarro family's care, but toward somewhere older. Somewhere smaller.
When she finally stopped, she found herself standing in front of a narrow apartment building. The paint was chipped, the lights dim. But she knew this place — it was where she had lived before her life became entangled with theirs.
Before Kael. Before everything.
Her trembling hands fumbled for the keys she hadn't used in years. It took several tries before she managed to open the door.
The scent of dust and quiet memories greeted her. The room was just as she remembered — small, plain, but hers.
She stepped inside and shut the door behind her. The sound of it closing echoed softly, final.
The silence was overwhelming.
Her wet shoes left faint prints on the old wooden floor as she crossed the room. The bed was still there, neatly made, the faded blue sheets smelling faintly of lavender.
Amara sank to the floor beside it, pulling her knees to her chest.
Her body trembled uncontrollably, exhaustion and heartbreak settling deep into her bones.
Tears welled again, though she thought she had none left to give. She pressed her forehead against her knees and whispered into the dark, her voice hoarse and broken.
"Why does it have to hurt so much?"
The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, a quiet, constant reminder that the world still moved on — even when she couldn't.
She stayed there for what felt like hours, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion. Her sobs softened into shallow breaths until, at last, her eyes fluttered closed.
For the first time in what felt like forever, sleep came — fragile and dreamless.
Outside, the rain began again — softer this time, almost tender — as if the world itself was weeping for her.
And in the shadows across the street, unseen by her, two men watched from a parked car. Damian's orders were clear: Protect her. Don't let her be alone.
The one in the driver's seat lowered his phone after sending a brief message.
"She made it home safely, but she's soaked."