Damian pushed the hospital room door open quietly.
He had expected a calm, quiet scene—perhaps Amara sitting by the window, or reading a book while waiting for Kael to wake up.
Instead, what he saw made his chest tighten.
Amara stood beside the hospital bed, her cheeks flushed a soft pink. Her eyes were lowered, but there was a faint, gentle smile on her lips. Across from her, Kael looked at her with unmistakable intensity.
The air between them felt… intimate.
Too intimate.
Damian froze by the doorway, the plastic bag of food suddenly feeling heavier in his hand.
She's blushing…
His fingers tightened around the handle.
So she still likes him.
The thought struck harder than he expected. It wasn't jealousy that pierced his heart first—it was acceptance.
A quiet, painful acceptance.
Because deep down, he had always known.
Amara's heart had belonged to Kael for years. One hospital visit, one night of worry, one emotional moment—it was more than enough to remind her of those feelings.
Especially after what had happened the night before.
His gaze softened.
Of course she still cares about him.
And that thought pulled him back into memory.
Flashback — the Night Before
The movie theatre was dim, the glow of the screen flickering across their faces.
Damian sat stiffly in his seat, trying very hard to focus on the horror movie playing in front of him.
But he couldn't.
Because Amara was sitting beside him.
Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her arm brushing against his. Close enough that every small movement from her made his heart pound.
He wasn't afraid of the movie.
He was afraid of himself.
Of how much he wanted to hold her hand.
Of how natural it felt when their fingers accidentally brushed against each other while reaching for popcorn.
At one particularly frightening scene, Amara grabbed his arm and leaned closer.
Damian nearly forgot how to breathe.
Her head was just inches from his shoulder. Her scent—soft and faintly sweet—filled his senses.
His heart thundered.
Hug her back, a voice in his mind whispered.
But he didn't.
He kept his hands to himself, gripping the armrest instead.
He was afraid.
Afraid she would think he was taking advantage of her fear.
Afraid he would ruin whatever fragile trust they had built.
So he stayed still, letting her hold onto him while pretending to be completely focused on the screen.
By the time the movie ended, his heart was still racing.
And it didn't slow down when they walked out of the theatre—because Amara was still holding his hand.
Her fingers were wrapped around his, warm and soft.
Damian felt like he was floating.
Is this… real?
For a brief, beautiful moment, he allowed himself to believe it.
Maybe she was starting to like him back.
Maybe all his patience… all his quiet devotion… was finally being noticed.
But then her phone rang.
Amara stopped walking.
Her expression shifted.
Cold.
Then surprised.
Then worried.
"Kael?" she murmured.
That one name was enough to shatter the fragile happiness in Damian's chest.
Her hand slipped from his.
The warmth disappeared instantly.
Damian's face remained calm—but inside, something sank.
He didn't need to ask.
He already knew.
As he had promised himself from the beginning, he would never force his feelings on her.
If Amara needed him, he would be there.
If she wanted to return to Kael… he would let her go.
Even if it destroyed him.
Because her happiness mattered more than his.
He had already decided that long ago.
"I'll go ahead," he had said quietly when he heard the situation.
But before he could step away, Amara grabbed both of his hands.
Her grip was gentle—but firm.
"Can you come with me?" she asked softly.
He hesitated.
Part of him wanted to refuse.
He didn't want to watch her run back to the man she truly loved.
But the look in her eyes… the quiet plea…
He couldn't say no.
He never could.
So he nodded.
The ride to the bar was silent.
Amara sat beside him, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Her expression was full of worry.
Damian stared out the window, feeling a slow ache build in his chest.
You're going to help her reach the man she loves, he told himself.
That's what you chose.
When they arrived, Amara rushed inside without even waiting for him.
Damian followed behind—and the moment he entered, he saw it.
Kael wrapping his arms around her.
Calling her name like she was his lifeline.
The sight felt like a knife sliding into his heart.
And yet, when Kael collapsed, Damian still caught him.
Still carried him.
Still stayed at the hospital the entire night.
He watched as Amara cared for Kael—adjusting his blanket, checking his temperature, speaking softly to the nurse.
It hurt.
But he stayed.
Because he didn't want Amara to go through it alone.
As dawn approached, he offered to buy food.
She wanted to come with him, but he refused gently.
"You should rest," he said.
But the truth was simpler.
He wanted to give her time with the man she loved.
Even if it meant stepping aside.
Back to the Present
Damian blinked, returning to the present.
The memory still weighed heavily on his chest.
But then something unexpected happened.
Amara turned toward him, her cheeks still slightly pink—and walked straight to him.
Without hesitation, she took his hand.
"Come sit here," she said softly, guiding him toward the couch.
Damian's eyes widened.
"Amara," he whispered, leaning slightly closer. "Let go. Kael is watching."
But she didn't.
She kept holding his hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Kael's gaze burned into them from the hospital bed.
The tension in the room grew thick.
Amara only released Damian's hand when she took the food and walked over to Kael.
"Here," she said simply. "Eat."
She handed him the container.
Damian braced himself.
She's going to feed him, he thought bitterly.
But she didn't.
Instead, she returned to the couch—right back to Damian's side.
Relief, warm and unexpected, spread through his chest.
She opened another container and held out a spoon.
"Try this," she said, offering it to him.
Damian blinked.
"You… want me to taste it?"
She nodded. "It smells good, but I want to know if it's really okay."
He hesitated.
Then leaned forward slightly and took a bite.
"It's good," he said quietly.
Her face lit up.
"Really? Then I'll eat too."
Kael watched everything in silence.
The small gestures.
The quiet smiles.
The way Amara stayed beside Damian instead of him.
Jealousy churned in his chest—but he said nothing.
Damian, meanwhile, felt something unfamiliar stir in his heart.
Confusion.
Hope.
And fear.
Because while Amara had looked worried about Kael the night before… right now, she was smiling beside him.
Holding his hand.
Feeding him food.
Do I… still have a chance?
But the memory of her worried face in the bar, the way she had rushed to Kael without hesitation—it held him back.
He didn't want to hope.
Hope was dangerous.
Hope made the fall hurt more.
So he simply sat beside her, quietly eating the food she offered, his heart caught somewhere between longing and restraint.
And for the first time, Damian Sinclair realized—
The space between hope and hurt was thinner than he ever imagined.