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Chapter 51 – Not His Anymore
Amara's POV
Three dates.
That's how many it took before I admitted to myself that I actually liked Malik.
He was gentle. Attentive. Always on time. He remembered the smallest things I said — like how I preferred jasmine tea over coffee or how I hated the sound of chalk on a board. On our second date, he brought me a sketchbook, "just in case you feel like drawing again."
He made me feel seen.
And yet, in the deepest corners of my heart, where shadows still lived, Ethan Lantel's name was etched like a scar.
No matter how much I smiled with Malik, no matter how safe I felt in his presence — Ethan still had that spot. That cursed, aching spot in my chest that refused to forget what we never even started.
It was stupid, I know. Ethan never loved me. He never even looked back. But my heart hadn't caught up with the truth.
Still, I kept seeing Malik. Not because I wanted to erase Ethan — but because maybe I deserved something… someone healthy. Someone who chose me.
When Malik invited me to lunch that day, I said yes before I could overthink it.
We went to a quiet little Italian restaurant not far from my office. The weather was warm, the patio tables were shaded, and for once, I felt light. Present. Malik made a stupid joke about pineapple on pizza, and I laughed — like genuinely laughed, the kind that made me snort.
I was mid-laugh when I felt it — that presence. That ripple in the air that only one person ever made me feel.
I looked up.
And there he was.
Ethan.
In a dark navy suit that hugged his body perfectly, sunglasses pushed into his hair, and his hand — his hand — was wrapped around the waist of a blonde woman in heels too high for daylight. She was clinging to him like a prize, her red lips curled into a victorious smile.
He saw me.
I know he did.
Our eyes locked for a split second. One second. One heartbeat.
And then he looked away.
Just like that.
He didn't flinch. Didn't pause. Didn't show the slightest reaction. He just turned his head back to the blonde beside him and walked past like I was invisible.
Like I never mattered.
I felt my breath hitch.
Malik was still talking, his voice smooth and steady, but I couldn't hear him. My ears rang. My vision blurred. All I could see was Ethan's back getting smaller as he disappeared into the restaurant, hand still resting possessively on the blonde's lower back.
He forgot me.
No, worse — he ignored me.
Like I was nothing.
All the pain I'd buried over the past five months came rushing to the surface — every unanswered feeling, every late-night ache, every second I spent trying to convince myself I didn't care.
I did care.
And it hurt.
"Amara?" Malik's voice cut through my spiral, concern written all over his face. "You okay?"
I blinked, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat.
And then I did something I didn't plan.
I leaned across the table.
And I kissed him.
Not a shy, testing kiss.
A real one.
His lips were soft, surprised at first, then he kissed me back, gently cupping my face with one hand. When I finally pulled away, my heart was racing.
"Wow," he said breathlessly. "That was…"
But I wasn't hearing him.
I was staring at the restaurant glass doors.
Because through the reflection, I saw Ethan.
He had stopped.
He was standing near the entrance now, his face half turned in our direction. The blonde was talking beside him, but he wasn't listening. His jaw was clenched, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
So now you care? I thought bitterly.
I looked back at Malik and smiled, even though my heart was still bleeding beneath my ribs.
"Sorry," I whispered. "I just… felt like doing that."
He smiled back, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "I'm not complaining."
But I was.
Inside, I was screaming.
I didn't kiss Malik to hurt him. I didn't kiss him to be cruel.
I kissed him because for once, I wanted Ethan to feel something. Anything.
I wanted to know I wasn't the only one haunted.
But instead of satisfaction, all I felt was a deeper ache.
Because no matter how sweet Malik was…
He wasn't Ethan.
And I hated that Ethan still had this hold on me — even when I tried to give my heart to someone else.
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