“Amara!”

I jerked awake to the sound of Damon’s voice, loud and intrusive. My heart raced as I blinked against the morning light streaming through the curtains. My body stiffened when I saw him standing before me. His hair was disheveled, his tie loosened, but he still looked infuriatingly composed.

He leaned down, his hands braced on either side of me as if to kiss me, but I flinched and leaned back. My voice came out cold. “What are you doing here?”

His brows furrowed. “You slept on the couch?”

I didn’t bother answering, pushing the blanket off as I stood. I kept my gaze steady on him, taking in the faint crease of annoyance on his forehead. For a fleeting moment, I thought about confronting him outright, demanding answers, but I decided against it. What was the point?

I turned to leave, but his hand shot out, gripping mine. “Hey, what’s going on?” His voice carried an edge of confusion, as if he were the victim in this mess.

I yanked my hand free, glaring at him. “Where were you last night?”

He sighed heavily, his fingers running through his hair. “At the company. I was working my ass off, as always.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I see. And Miranda? Has she suddenly become part of your work schedule now?”

His head snapped up, his expression shifting. “What are you talking about?”

“You went with her to Palm Springs Aerial Tramway,” I spat, my voice shaking. “Then you spent the night at her place. And now you have the guts to stand here and lie to me.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. “Were you spying on me?”

A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped me. “Spying? Are you serious?”

“You know I hate that,” he said, his tone low and accusatory.

“Oh, and I love being shamed and kept waiting outside Le Château Étoilé for three hours in the freezing cold!” I stepped closer, poking his chest with every word. “Three hours, Damon. I stood there, eating snow and feeling like a fool.”

His expression softened for a moment, as if realizing his mistake, but it quickly hardened again. He waved dismissively. “Three hours? Come on, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure you left after ten minutes.”

I stared at him, my disbelief giving way to fury. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, exhaling sharply. “About Miranda—she needed me yesterday. She’s my best friend. I couldn’t just ignore her after all she’s gone through.”

“And me?” My voice cracked, my eyes stinging as tears threatened to spill again. “You made her happy at my expense. It was our seventh anniversary, Damon. Seven years. But to you, it was just another day. You sidelined me and turned me into a laughingstock. All for Miranda.”

“Come on, Amara.” He reached out as if to console me, but I stepped back. “I thought you’d understand. She was recalling bad moments, and I just wanted to lighten her mood.”

“And I’m supposed to just accept that?” My voice rose, thick with anger and hurt. “The last three months, you’ve done more for her than you’ve done for me in years. You don’t even talk about our wedding anymore.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his expression indifferent. “Is that what you’re upset about? We can postpone it.”

My jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, as if it were a simple decision. “Miranda’s been going through a lot. You can’t imagine how hard her life’s been since her breakup. She feels shattered.”

“She’s pretending,” I hissed. “She came back because you’re successful now, and she wants to ruin what we have.”

“Stop it, Amara.” His voice was sharp now. “She’s not vile. She means well—for both of us.”

“No,” I snapped. “She only means well for herself.”

“You’re wrong,” he said firmly. “Yesterday, she helped me secure the Daven Technologies contract. That’s huge for my company.”

“She…” I faltered, my heart sinking. “No. That wasn’t her.”

“It was,” he insisted. “Tasha said she saw her dropping the contract documents on my desk. She didn’t even tell me about it until after closing hours. She’s so humble.” He paused, his expression almost reverent. “The last two months she’s worked for my company, we’ve flourished.”

My stomach churned as I stared at him. “You’ve got it wrong, Damon. That contract—I got it for you.”

His head tilted, his gaze doubtful. “Look, I know you’ve helped us bag some deals, but this is different.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He shrugged, his voice casual but cutting. “It can’t be you. You dropped out of college. You’re not as experienced as she is at convincing top companies.”

My vision blurred as the words sank in. “You…” My voice trembled.

He stepped closer, taking my hand. “Let’s forget about yesterday, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”

I stared at Damon, his words echoing in my mind like a hammer striking fragile glass. It can’t be you. My knees wobbled as a sharp ache spread through my chest. Those words weakened me, carving deep into my soul. How could he so easily dismiss me, the woman who had stood by him through every storm?

Before I could muster a response, Damon cupped my face, his touch warm yet distant. "Tonight’s a great night," he said, his voice laced with anticipation. "There’s an annual event hosted by one of my business partners. Some of my friends will be there."

I parted my lips to speak, to ask if this was his way of patching things up or avoiding the cracks entirely, but he silenced me with a kiss. It wasn’t tender; it was possessive, commanding. I stood frozen as his lips moved against mine, robbing me of the words I so desperately wanted to scream. When he pulled back, I turned and headed upstairs to our room, moving like a lifeless puppet.

That evening, we arrived at the event. The venue was lavish, sparkling with chandeliers and the murmur of expensive conversations. I tried to focus on the grandeur, the soft hum of music, but my attention wavered the moment Miranda came into view.

She wore a crimson dress, fitted perfectly to her body, with a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination. The fabric shimmered under the light, drawing all eyes to her. She moved with an air of confidence, her lips painted in the same shade as her dress. My chest tightened, and a wave of inadequacy washed over me. I felt invisible in my simple black gown, standing in her radiant shadow.

Miranda greeted Damon with a hug, her arms lingering around his neck, followed by a kiss on his cheek that seemed too familiar for comfort. He didn’t pull away; instead, his lips curved into a faint smile.

She turned to me, her eyes sparkling with feigned sincerity. "Hey, Amara. I found out yesterday it was your seventh anniversary…"

Her voice was sweet, too sweet. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "Mine and Damon’s anniversary," I corrected, the sarcasm dripping from my words. "And thanks to you, it went so well."

Damon shot me a sharp look, his jaw tightening, but I didn’t care.

Miranda, unbothered, laughed lightly. "Congratulations to you both." She stretched out a wrapped box. "Please, accept my gift."

I stared at the box, then at her, rolling my eyes before turning on my heel. Without a word, I headed for the restroom, the air around me heavy with tension.

Damon caught up with me just as I reached the hallway, his hand gripping my arm. "Amara, what was that? That’s not like you."

I yanked my arm free, glaring at him. "You wouldn’t know what I’m like anymore." With that, I stormed off, leaving him standing there.

The evening dragged on painfully. I stood on the sidelines, watching Damon and Miranda move through the crowd like a power couple. Every time I tried to approach him, she’d swoop in with her practiced charm, guiding him toward someone else under the guise of polite introductions. It was as if I wasn’t even there.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched her lay a hand on his arm, leaning in to whisper something that made him chuckle. My chest burned, jealousy and despair battling for dominance.

Finally, I’d had enough. I marched toward Damon, determined to tell him I was leaving. But before I could reach him, his voice stopped me.

"Miranda, you shouldn’t drink. Forgotten?"

I froze, my steps faltering.

A woman in their circle exchanged a glance with her partner. "Why, Mr. McCain? Is she sick?"

Miranda subtly glanced my way, a small, calculated smile playing on her lips. "I’m pregnant."

Gasps rippled through the group. My heart pounded, the word echoing in my ears. Pregnant?

The woman’s partner raised an eyebrow. "Really? Is it your unborn child, Damon?"

Damon smiled faintly, glancing at Miranda, who returned his gaze with a soft smile.

"So, she’s carrying your baby," the woman said, looking impressed. "I’ve heard rumors about you two. They said she’s captured your heart."

The man beside her chimed in, his tone curious. "If she’s your woman, then who’s that?" He gestured toward me. "I clearly remember meeting you with her once, Damon."

I waited, my breath caught in my throat, as Damon turned to me. His expression was distant, his voice low as he muttered, "Uh… she’s my… like a close friend."

The world tilted beneath me. A close friend? That’s all I was to him?

Before Damon could approach me, I turned and walked away, tears blurring my vision.

I couldn’t believe he’d said it. Just a close friend. The words played on repeat in my mind, sharp as broken glass. Seven years. Seven years of my life, my sacrifices, my love—and all it took was Miranda to erase it. I wasn’t even angry about her pregnancy, not entirely. It was his disregard for me that ripped me apart. His inability to defend me, to even acknowledge what we were. Was she the reason for his growing distance, his excuses, his lies? How long had I been blind?

The second I stepped into the house, I flung my purse onto the couch, its contents scattering. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care. A sob broke from my throat as I sank onto the cold, unforgiving leather. My chest heaved, and each breath felt like a struggle. I had loved Damon with everything I had, but tonight, he’d made me feel like nothing.

Time passed in a blur before I heard the door click open. Damon’s familiar scent filled the room as he stepped inside, his voice laced with irritation.

“What’s wrong with you, Amara? You shouldn’t have left like that.”

I lifted my head and met his gaze, bitterness coating my words. “Really? I was supposed to stay and take in all the humiliation? That’s what you wanted?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I stood, my legs trembling beneath me. “So I’m just a close friend, huh? That’s what I mean.”

He sighed, stepping closer, his hands raised like a man trying to tame a storm. “No, Amara. You’re the woman I love.”

I pushed him back, anger bubbling to the surface. “Then why couldn’t you say that at the event? Why did you embarrass me like that in front of everyone?”

“Amara…” His voice was soft, pleading.

I didn’t let him finish. “Miranda is carrying your child, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me!”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “No. It’s not mine.”

“What?” My heart faltered.

“It’s her ex’s unborn child.”

“You’re kidding me.” My voice rose with disbelief. “You let them believe it was yours. You smiled. You didn’t deny it.”

“I didn’t say anything!” His tone was defensive now. “I just… I wanted to protect her dignity, like a good friend would.”

“And what about me?” My voice cracked. “You didn’t want her humiliated, but you didn’t care about humiliating me. It was so easy for you.”

“Why can’t you seem to understand?” he said, frustration lining his face.

“Why can’t you see how you’re crushing me, Damon?!” My voice broke on his name, the weight of my emotions finally breaking free.

His hands ran through his hair as he stepped closer again, his eyes scanning my face. “You don’t look good,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to my hand. He reached for it, his expression softening. “How did you get hurt?”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I pulled my hand away. “You just noticed it now? After everything?”

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes again. “Why are you doing this to me, Damon? If I mean something to you, if you value what we share, why have you been disregarding me like this?”

He sighed heavily, taking my hands again despite my resistance. His touch was warm, but it didn’t soothe the cold ache in my chest. “I don’t mean to. It’s just… the circumstances. You shouldn’t take it to heart.”

Before I could protest, he cupped my face and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was hot, demanding, and I wanted to push him away, but my body betrayed me. My head spun, my heart pounding as I lost myself in the moment. His touch, his scent, his presence—it was all-consuming, pulling me under.

Before I realized it, we were on the couch, our lips locked, his hands tracing my body. But then, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the moment.

He pulled away, fishing the device from his pocket. “Yes, Miranda?”

My chest tightened at her name.

“Hello, Damon. I just got home. I’ve got a splitting headache,” I overheard her say, her voice weak.

His brows knitted together in concern. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s not serious, but…” She coughed lightly, and Damon sighed.

“I’ll be there ASAP.” He ended the call and stood, his movements hurried.

“Damon.” My voice was quiet, shaky. I sat up, stopping him before he could leave. “I don’t feel well.”

He glanced at me, his expression distracted. “Come on, I’ll call my family doctor to come check up on you. Miranda needs me now.”

And with that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him without so much as a backward glance.