Amara didn't know how far she walked.
She only knew that she needed distance—distance from Kael, from his voice, from the sharp disappointment lodged in her chest like a dull blade that refused to disappear completely.
Her steps were hurried, uneven. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides as if holding herself together by sheer will alone.
Then—
Her knees gave way.
Amara gasped softly as her legs suddenly lost their strength, her body swaying dangerously forward. She barely managed to grab the edge of a nearby wall, her palm slapping against the cool surface as she leaned into it for support.
Good thing.
Good thing she was already out of Kael's sight.
If he had seen her like this—weak, shaking, barely standing—she didn't know what would hurt more. The fall itself… or the knowledge that he would see her vulnerability again.
She bowed her head, hair falling forward to hide her face as she took a long, trembling breath.
Then another.
And another.
Calm down, Amara.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly at first, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Slowly—painfully slowly—she forced herself to breathe deeper, steadier.
In.
Out.
When the dizziness faded, she slid down the wall and sat on the floor, knees drawn close to her chest.
Silence surrounded her.
And in that silence, she checked her heart.
It still hurt.
That truth surprised her less than she thought it would.
But the pain was different now.
Not sharp.
Not crushing.
Not the kind that made it hard to breathe.
It was dull—aching—but distant. Like an old wound that no longer bled but still reminded her it once existed.
Maybe… she thought quietly, it's because I already accepted it.
Accepted that Kael was not for her.
Accepted that no matter how much she had loved him—quietly, patiently, faithfully—he would never choose her the way she once hoped he would.
Clariss suited him better.
That thought didn't sting the way it once did. It felt… factual. Heavy, but real.
What hurt more wasn't the jealousy.
It was the disappointment.
The realization that even now—even after everything—Kael still cared too much about appearances. About what people might say. About pride.
Even earlier… when she had finally spoken up—
Amara froze.
Her brows slowly furrowed as the memory replayed itself in her mind.
I talked back.
The realization stunned her.
She blinked, her lips parting slightly.
For the first time… she hadn't simply nodded. She hadn't swallowed her words. She hadn't stood there quietly, accepting whatever Kael decided to throw at her.
She answered him.
Firmly.
Clearly.
Without her voice shaking too much.
A shaky laugh escaped her lips—half disbelief, half wonder.
"When did I become… like that?" she whispered to herself.
Not weak.
Not silent.
Not obedient.
Stronger.
Maybe not fully healed—but stronger.
After a few minutes, Amara placed her hands on the floor and pushed herself up. Her legs trembled, but they held.
She straightened her blouse, brushed off invisible dust from her skirt, and lifted her chin.
I can do this.
She walked back toward her department.
And the moment she turned the corner—
She forgot about Kael entirely.
Because Damian was standing right there.
Waiting.
Holding a familiar paper bag.
Amara stopped short.
Her eyes locked onto the logo printed on the bag.
Her heart skipped.
Once.
Twice.
"That's…" she murmured under her breath.
Her favourite café.
The one across town.
The one she only mentioned once—casually—weeks ago.
Her calm heart, which had only just settled, immediately went into chaos.
No. No, no, no.
She instinctively took a step back.
Then another.
She wanted to run.
But Damian spotted her instantly.
And before she could escape, he was already walking toward her—fast, purposeful, smiling like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
Too late.
Her cheeks burned.
Her eyes dropped to the floor.
When he stopped in front of her, she could feel his presence—warm, steady, far too close for her frazzled nerves.
She cleared her throat and spoke in a small, shy voice.
"I thought…" she said, not daring to look at him, "…you said you'd give me time to calm my heart down until lunch."
Her fingers twisted together nervously.
"It's still almost nine."
Her face was so red it felt like it was on fire.
Damian froze.
Then—
His heart soared.
That wasn't avoidance.
That wasn't rejection.
That was fluster.
That was awareness.
That was—interest.
His grip on the paper bag tightened slightly as a slow, genuine smile spread across his face.
A full smile.
Not the polite one.
Not the professional one.
The real one.
And when people in the department noticed—
Everything stopped.
Conversations faltered.
Pens paused mid-air.
Because Damian Sinclair—cold, reserved, untouchable Damian Sinclair—was smiling like a man who had just won something precious.
Whispers started instantly.
"Did you see that?"
"Is that… Damian?"
"He's smiling?"
Amara felt the attention prickling at her skin.
Uncomfortable.
Overwhelming.
Without thinking, she reached out, grabbed Damian's hand, and tugged him away.
"Come with me," she whispered urgently.
Damian didn't resist.
He followed her willingly.
Happily.
They stopped near a quieter hallway, away from curious eyes.
Amara finally released his hand—but the warmth lingered.
She faced him, cheeks still burning, and repeated softly, "I really thought you were going to wait."
Damian tilted his head, eyes warm with amusement.
"I did," he said teasingly. "I waited… as long as I could."
She blinked. "That's not waiting."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I missed you."
Her breath hitched.
Her face turned even redder.
"Please," she whispered, embarrassed. "Don't tease me."
Damian chuckled softly.
He wanted to tease her more—God, he really did—but he caught himself.
He didn't want to push her.
Didn't want to risk making her retreat.
So he cleared his throat and straightened.
"I'm just here to deliver this," he said lightly, lifting the paper bag. "Sandwich and a drink."
Her eyes flickered to the bag.
"I passed by your favourite café after talking to a client."
Amara almost believed him.
Almost.
But then she remembered.
"You said you didn't have any client meetings today," she said quietly.
Damian paused.
Caught.
Her heart started racing again.
Did he really…?
Did he go out just for her?
Before he could say anything else, he handed her the bag.
"I'll see you later," he said simply. "Don't skip lunch."
And then he turned and walked away—leaving her stunned, holding warmth in paper and plastic.
Amara stared after him.
Then down at the bag.
A slow, radiant smile bloomed on her face.
Back at her desk, Kael saw everything.
Every smile.
Every look.
Every moment.
His jaw clenched.
His fist tightened until his nails dug into his palm.
Blood nearly surfaced.
He turned sharply and slammed his office door.
The sound echoed.
And somewhere nearby—
Clariss watched.
Her eyes dark.
Her lips curled.
And in her mind, something dangerous began to form.