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.

I collapsed back onto the couch, the ache in my chest spreading through my entire body.

An hour passed, and the doctor still hadn’t arrived. I managed to grab my phone, my hands trembling as I dialed Damon’s number. It rang and rang, but he didn’t answer.

A chime interrupted the silence, and I glanced at the screen. A message from Damon.

{Try to get better, Amara. I had picked the doctor to come check up on Miranda. I don’t want to risk anything with her.}

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. My hand fell limply to my lap, the phone slipping from my grasp. My heart felt like it had been ripped out, stomped on, and discarded.

Risk anything with her? What about me?

I stared at the door, hoping, praying he’d walk back in, that he’d realize what he was doing to me. But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t.

The room felt colder than ever as the reality of it all settled over me. I was alone.

I stared at my phone countless times, willing it to ring, to vibrate, to do something that would prove Damon cared enough to call back. With trembling hands, I took it and dialed his number again. The ringing seemed louder in the oppressive silence of the room. When it cut to voicemail, my heart sank even deeper

I needed air. Anything to escape the suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. Wrapping myself in a coat, I stepped outside, the cold biting my fevered skin.

I clung to the hope that Damon might appear, that he’d realize his mistake and come for me, like he always did in the past. But the streets were empty. Only the crunch of snow under my boots accompanied me as I shuffled weakly forward.

My vision blurred, and my steps faltered.The ground rushed toward me, but before I hit it, strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me.

“Damon?” I whispered weakly, clinging to the hope it was him.

But when I looked up, I met a pair of steel-gray eyes—not Damon’s striking cerulean ones.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was deep, commanding, laced with concern that resonated in my ears as my vision darkened.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. My body sagged against his hold.

“Hey, stay with me!” His sharp tone demanded my attention, but I couldn’t fight it anymore. My eyelids fluttered shut, and the world faded away, leaving only the echo of his voice ringing in my ears.

- - - - -

The antiseptic scent hit me the moment my eyes fluttered open. The sterile white walls and soft hum of machines confirmed I was in a hospital. Blinking against the fluorescent light, I turned my head and froze. A slightly familiar, strikingly handsome face was watching me.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said, his voice softer than I expected.

I swallowed, my throat dry and scratchy. “Who are you?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “I brought you here.”

My mind raced to piece together the fragments of my memory. “Oh... thanks for that.” I nodded, realizing my manners had slipped. “You are?”

“Tyler. Kennedy,” he said, tilting his head as if expecting recognition.

“Tyler Kennedy?” I repeated, squinting at him. His name tugged at a distant memory.

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Goodness, you’ve forgotten me, Amara.”

The smile on his face sparked clarity, and my breath caught. “Tyler. You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Took you forever to remember me,” he teased. “Meanwhile, I never forgot you.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and nostalgia. He had attended high school with Aaron, my brother. I remembered him as the quiet but sharp-witted guy who was always over at our house during study sessions.

He studied me, his gaze laced with curiosity. “You should be in Dallas with your family. What are you doing here in California?”

I stiffened, the question slicing through me. What could I say? That I’d run away from home seven years ago because my father rejected my relationship with Damon? That my father despised Damon, comparing him to his own conniving father and accusing him of insincerity? No. I couldn’t tell Tyler all that.

“I just needed a change of scenery,” I said lightly, hoping the smile I forced would sell the lie.

He nodded, seemingly convinced. “Still, I wasn’t expecting to find you collapsing on the street. What happened?”

“I’ve been under the weather lately,” I mumbled. “Guess it caught up with me.”

The door creaked open, and the doctor walked in. After a brief examination, he explained that I had the flu and needed to rest, take my medication, and be more cautious about overexerting myself. “You’re free to leave after collecting your prescription from the pharmacy.”

Tyler held up a small paper bag, shaking it gently. “Already taken care of.”

Surprised, I glanced at him. “Thank you.”

As we left the hospital, I stopped outside the main entrance, turning to him. “About the medication... I’ll pay you back.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into an easy smile. “It’s not necessary, darling.”

“Thank you,” I said again, unsure of what else to say. “Where have you been all these years?”

“Paris,” he replied. “Just got back recently. Thought I’d settle down here for a while.”

I hesitated, then said, “Um, about my family…”

“Aaron said they’ve been looking for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

I sighed, my chest tightening at the thought of my brother. We barely talk. And my father, I haven’t spoken to him in over five years, not since I asked him to let me live my life with the one I love.

Regaining my voice, I asked, “Please,can you keep our encounter a secret?"

Tyler’s gaze softened, but he didn’t push. “Sure, Amara,” he said after a pause, though the flicker of surprise in his eyes didn’t escape me.

He drove me home in silence, and as we pulled into the driveway, my stomach churned. Damon’s car was parked outside. My heart sank. So he was back.

Inside, I found him pacing in the living room. The moment he saw me, his expression shifted to one of annoyance and concern. “Where were you? I was worried.”

I dropped my bag by the door and crossed my arms. “Were you worried, or is this just for show?”

His jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” I said, stepping closer, “you’re good at pretending. Like when you left me last night, barely breathing, to rush to Miranda.”

He bristled, his hands clenching at his sides. “That’s not fair. I saw you today, Amara. In another man’s arms.”

I froze. “So you’re keeping an eye on me now, Damon?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly, his eyes darkening. “What happened? Did he touch you? You probably enjoyed it, considering we couldn’t finish what we started last night.”

The audacity of his words stung, and I yanked my arm from his grasp. “You’ve got some nerve,” I hissed, turning to leave.

Before I could take a step, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, pressing me against his chest. “You always walk away when things get hard,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

“That’s not my habit,” I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. “It’s yours.”

His grip on me tightened. His touch burned, and despite myself, I flinched. His gaze softened momentarily, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I shook my head, my voice breaking. “You left me... while I was ebbing out of life. And for what? Miranda?”

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice heavy with excuses.

I stared at him, waiting for more, but his silence only deepened the rift between us.

I watched him as he stepped closer, his face softening, an expression of regret etched deeply into his features. “Amara,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I messed up. I shouldn’t have left you like that. I was... scared and confused, but I promise—” His hand grazed mine, his touch warm yet tentative. “I’ll never do that again. I swear.”

His sincerity made my heart ache, but skepticism tugged at the edges of my thoughts. I wanted to believe him, to let his words soothe the gnawing doubt, but I’d learned the hard way that promises could break just as easily as they were made.

“Let me make it up to you,” he continued, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll spend the day with you. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us.”

I hesitated but nodded. “Alright.”

He smiled, relief flashing across his face. “Good. Let’s start with lunch.” He was already moving toward the kitchen, his steps quick and determined.

I leaned against the counter as he worked, watching his movements. Damon had always been confident in the kitchen, and it was one of the things I used to admire about him. Pots clanged and the scent of spices filled the air. He glanced back at me, his boyish grin peeking through as he chopped, stirred, and tasted.

“You’re still the show-off chef, I see,” I teased lightly.

“And still the best,” he quipped, throwing me a wink.

When he finally called me to the table, the spread looked incredible. Plates of vibrant dishes sat steaming, evidence of his skill. But as he started dishing out the food, I froze. The distinct shape and scent of crabs hit me, and my stomach churned.

“Why crabs?” I asked, my voice sharp. “You know I’m allergic to them.”

He blinked, caught off guard, then recovered quickly. “Oh, right. Sorry about that.” He set the plate down, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Miranda loves crabs. She introduced me to them, and now I can’t get enough. Did you know she likes them cooked in this special garlic butter sauce? It’s her favorite. She always does this cute thing where she—”

“Stop,” I snapped, my voice trembling with barely contained frustration. His words felt like stabs, each one twisting deeper. I could barely keep my composure as he rambled on about her.

“Amara,” he started, his tone still too light, too oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

I slammed my hands on the table, cutting him off. “But I’m not Miranda.” My voice echoed, heavy with anger and hurt.

His expression faltered, the reality of my words finally sinking in.