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Chapter 63 – Amara's POV
"The Space Between Us"
Some days, it felt like nothing had changed.
Malik and I still grabbed lunch at our favorite café two blocks from the office. He still sent me stupid memes during meetings. And he still checked in on me with that half-serious, half-playful concern in his voice that always made me feel… safe.
He hadn't brought up that night again — the one where I stormed off after Ethan embarrassed me at the restaurant. He didn't ask questions. He didn't dig.
That's why we were still friends.
Because Malik never asked for what I couldn't give.
We sat across from each other at an outdoor table now, sipping iced drinks and watching people pass. The sun painted golden patches over the table between us, and a quiet breeze made the moment feel oddly peaceful.
"I heard the gallery event was a success," he said, stirring his drink with his straw.
I smiled. "It was. Arya killed it, as always."
He looked at me for a moment, his gaze calm but thoughtful. "You looked nice in the pictures. Confident."
I raised a brow. "You stalking me now?"
He laughed. "Nah. Just checking to make sure the dragon queen hasn't turned into a hermit."
I rolled my eyes, but my smile lingered. "I'm doing okay."
He nodded, then leaned back in his chair. "You know… you don't have to pretend around me."
My smile faltered just a little. "I'm not pretending."
But even as I said it, I felt the weight I'd been carrying shift slightly — like my body didn't quite believe the words either.
Because truthfully?
I was pretending.
Pretending I didn't still feel Ethan's eyes on me every time we crossed paths at work.
Pretending my heart didn't skip a beat whenever I got a "Good morning, Amara" in his low, guilty voice.
Pretending that the way he'd been quietly, carefully trying to fix things didn't matter.
But it did.
It mattered.
Because even after all the pain, even after how deeply he hurt me, part of me still wanted to believe in him.
And that terrified me.
---
Later that afternoon, back at the office, I felt it again — that now-familiar twinge of awareness. Like my body sensed Ethan before my eyes ever caught him.
I was walking down the hallway with a stack of print layouts when his voice called softly behind me.
"Amara."
I stopped. My heart didn't. It fluttered like a traitor.
I turned slowly.
He was dressed in a crisp gray suit, sleeves rolled just slightly, the top button of his shirt undone — like he was trying not to look too put together. But his face? His eyes? They were completely focused on me.
"I was wondering if we could talk," he said. "Just… talk."
I narrowed my gaze. "You've said that before."
"I know," he said immediately. "And every time, you said no. But I'm still here. I'm still asking."
I crossed my arms. "Why?"
He stepped closer, but not too close. Respectful of the space I had so clearly drawn between us.
"Because you matter," he said quietly. "And I don't care how long it takes. I'll keep showing you that. Every day if I have to."
That softness in his voice — the sincerity I wasn't sure I could trust — it made something in me ache.
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
So he continued. "I've been thinking a lot about who I was that night. About how easily I turned into someone I hated. And I'm not here to give you excuses or beg for your forgiveness like I deserve it."
His eyes searched mine.
"I don't. But I'm still sorry."
He meant it. I could see it in the way his voice cracked just slightly. In the way his hand trembled before he clenched it at his side.
And maybe that's what made it worse.
Because I had already forgiven him.
But I hadn't let myself show it.
Not yet.
Because the pain? That needed space. Time. Healing.
"I appreciate the apology," I said finally, my voice soft but clear.
His eyes lit up, but I held up a hand. "That doesn't mean I'm ready. Or that I want to start over."
He nodded. "I know. I just needed you to know… I'm not giving up."
And then he did something that both shocked me and melted something in my chest —
He smiled.
A real one. Small, sad, hopeful.
Then he turned and walked away.
No pressure.
No pushing.
Just… patience.
---
That night, I stared at my ceiling, replaying it all in my head.
The look in Ethan's eyes.
The warmth in Malik's voice.
The choice in front of me.
One man had always respected my boundaries. The other had broken them, but was trying to rebuild.
And me? I wasn't ready to open the door.
But maybe I was starting to unlock it.
Because no matter how hard I tried, Ethan Lantel still lived in the corners of my heart I didn't want to admit existed.
And even if I couldn't love him out loud yet…
I wasn't sure I knew how to stop.