Adrian couldn't sleep.
Not even for a minute.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the day — every time Amara walked away from him, every time she avoided his eyes, every time she pretended, she didn't hear him.
It wasn't like her.
It wasn't her at all.
And it was driving him insane.
By the time the house fell silent — doors closed, lights off, footsteps gone — he couldn't take it anymore.
He got up.
He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just moved.
Straight to her room.
The window was cracked open, letting in the cool night air. He slipped inside quietly, landing on the soft carpet without a sound.
Her room smelled like jasmine.
Her lamp was on.
Her bed was neatly made.
And she wasn't there.
He heard the faint sound of running water.
The bathroom.
Adrian exhaled shakily and sat on the edge of her bed.
Then he lay back, staring at the ceiling, waiting.
Waiting for her.
Waiting for answers.
Waiting for anything that would make sense.
The bathroom door opened.
Amara stepped out, gently towel-drying her hair, her long nightdress swaying with each step, making her look softer than she realized.
She looked peaceful.
Until she glanced at the mirror.
And saw him lying on her bed.
She gasped, dropping the towel. "Adrian—!"
He sat up slowly, eyes locked on hers.
She froze.
He stood.
She took a step back.
He took a step forward.
"Why are you here?" she whispered.
"You know why."
She shook her head, backing up until her hips hit the dressing table. "Adrian, please—"
He placed his hands on either side of her, caging her in gently but firmly.
"Talk to me," he said quietly. "Tell me what I did."
"You didn't do anything."
"Then why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not."
"You are."
She looked away. "I just… needed space."
"From me?"
Her breath trembled. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I do."
She slipped under his arm, escaping his cage, and hurried toward the door.
He followed.
She walked fast — too fast — straight to the laundry room at the end of the hall.
She stepped inside.
He stepped in right behind her.
Before she could move again, his arms wrapped around her from behind — a desperate, tight backhug that made her breath catch.
"Amara," he whispered against her hair, "please stop running from me."
She closed her eyes.
His voice cracked — just a little. "Do you know what it feels like to be ignored by you?"
She swallowed hard.
"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "I couldn't think. I kept replaying everything, trying to figure out what I did wrong."
"You didn't—"
"Then why won't you look at me?"
She didn't answer.
He held her tighter, his forehead resting against the back of her shoulder.
"Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me what I did. Tell me why you're hurting. Tell me why you're pushing me away."
Her hands trembled.
His voice dropped, raw and honest. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me."
She finally whispered, "I heard something."
Adrian froze.
"What did you hear?" he asked softly.
But she shook her head, slipping out of his arms before he could stop her.
"I can't," she whispered.
And she walked away — again — leaving him standing in the laundry room, breath unsteady, heart pounding, and more desperate than ever.