Kael didn't remember driving away from the parking lot.
One moment, he was staring at the empty space where Damian's car had vanished.
The next, he was gripping the steering wheel, city lights streaking past the windows like smeared colours on a canvas.
The engine hummed beneath him.
The world outside rushed by in motion and noise.
But inside the car?
Silence.
A crushing kind of silence.
The kind that made his ears ring.
He had been punched before but no impact had ever rattled him the way Damian's fist had.
Because the pain wasn't in his jaw.
It was in the echo of his own words.
"Don't forget your place."
He didn't realize he'd whispered the sentence aloud until his own voice reflected back at him, tight and disgusted.
"Idiot…" he muttered to himself, gripping the wheel harder.
How could he have said that?
How could those words — those cruel, arrogant words — come out of his mouth?
Her face flashed in his mind.
The way her lips had trembled.
The way her eyes had dimmed.
The way she looked like she wanted to disappear.
Kael slammed his palm against the steering wheel.
"Damn it."
His breath shook, uneven. He leaned back in the seat, forcing air into his lungs, but it felt like he couldn't breathe properly.
He had hurt her again.
He dragged a hand down his face.
What had he become?
The car drifted into an empty riverside lot before he even realized he'd been turning. He parked by instinct — or maybe exhaustion — and killed the engine.
Silence swallowed him whole.
The river reflected city lights in soft ripples, each shimmer like a heartbeat skipping, trembling, and breaking.
Kael stared at it without seeing it.
His mind spun in circles — a tangled mess of guilt, jealousy, regret, and a deeper ache he refused to name.
He had always thought he was in control.
Of his emotions.
Of his decisions.
Of the people around him.
He had built an identity around being unshaken, unaffected.
But Amara…
Amara had become his exception long before he noticed.
He remembered the first time she smiled at him — shy, awkward, genuine.
He remembered how she used to light up when he came home late at his grandfather's villa and she was still waiting, sleepy-eyed, with a warm plate on the table.
She had always waited.
Even when he didn't deserve it.
But tonight, when she walked away with Damian—
She didn't wait.
She didn't look back.
For the first time since meeting her, Kael had felt real fear.
The fear of losing something he had taken for granted.
The fear that maybe… this time, she wasn't coming back.
He closed his eyes.
He had never apologized to her. Not truly.
Every time she forgave him, it was because she loved him — because she believed there was good in him.
And he had repaid her by breaking her heart piece by piece.
Until there was nothing left for her to give.
"Amara…" he whispered into the empty car.
Her name lingered in the air, soft and aching.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
It felt heavy.
Hollow.
Like something had been carved out of him.
Across the city, in Damian's car…
The silence between Amara and Damian was different.
Not heavy — but fragile.
Quiet.
Tender in its stillness.
Amara stared out the window, her reflection faint against the glass. Her eyes were slightly red, though she'd held back tears.
Damian glanced at her gently.
"You don't have to pretend you're fine," he said quietly.
She didn't answer immediately.
"I'm not pretending," she finally whispered. "I'm… just tired."
Damian tightened his grip on the steering wheel, slower, calmer, as if trying not to show how much her words hurt him.
"Once again, you don't deserve what he said to you," he murmured.
Amara's throat tightened. "I know."
But the pain in her eyes said otherwise.
Damian slowed the car at a red light. He turned slightly, watching her with quiet intensity.
"Do you still love him?" he asked.
Amara stiffened.
Her lips parted — but no sound came out.
Damian didn't push. "You don't have to answer."
She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. Her voice trembled.
"I don't know."
But she did.
And Damian knew that too.
He sighed softly. "You're not obligated to stay in a place where you're hurting."
Amara swallowed, trying to steady her breathing.
"It's not that easy," she whispered.
Damian's voice gentled. "I know."
And he did know — he wasn't stupid. He saw the depth of her loyalty, her kindness, her heart.
Those things made her a good person.
But those same things kept her tied to Kael longer than she should've been.
"When you're ready to walk away," he added quietly, "you won't have to do it alone."
That sentence — soft, simple, sincere — wrapped around her chest.
She blinked, surprised by the warmth blooming inside her.
But she couldn't trust that warmth yet.
Not after everything.
She leaned back against the seat, letting silence fill the space again.
Damian continued to drive, his gaze forward, and his voice calm.
But his quiet protectiveness filled the whole car.
Once again, she felt safe.
Back at the river, Kael's phone vibrated.
He glanced at it — an unknown number.
He ignored it.
Then again.
He gritted his teeth and answered.
"Yes?"
"Kael?" Clariss's voice emerged, thick with worry — or annoyance. "Are you still out?"
"Clariss."
His voice came out cold. Frigid.
She fell silent.
Kael rarely used that tone with her — the one that signalled the end of his patience.
He exhaled, steadying his voice.
"I'm fine," he said. "Go home."
"But Kael—"
"Go home."
This time, she heard the finality.
"…Fine," she said, defeated.
He hung up before she could finish.
Clariss was the last person he wanted to hear.
Her dramatics.
Her gossip.
Her need to twist things into attention.
He closed his eyes again.
Damian's voice echoed in his head.
"You don't deserve her."
Kael's jaw clenched.
He hated how much that sentence hurt — because underneath the anger, the humiliation…
There was truth.
He thumped his head back against the seat.
Why had he let jealousy talk for him?
Why had he let pride control him?
He had wanted to ask Amara if she was okay.
He had wanted to apologize.
He had wanted her to look at him again — truly look — even if just for a second.
But instead…
He had broken the last fragile thread between them.
The river shimmered again, its quiet ripples mocking him.
"What do I do now…?" he murmured.
His voice cracked — the smallest break, but enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.
He didn't cry.
He couldn't.
But his eyes burned.
He leaned forward, elbows on the steering wheel, head bowed.
He stayed like that for minutes.
Hours.
He wasn't sure.
All he knew was that regret was no longer whispering.
It was suffocating him.
Filling his lungs.
Flooding his mind.
He finally whispered the truth — to the empty car, to the river, to the night.
"I miss you."
It was the first time he said it out loud.
It hurt more than the punch.
Kael finally lifted his head.
He inhaled deeply, breathing in the cold night air.
He reached for the ignition.
There was only one thing he could cling to now — one hope he still had.
Tomorrow.
He would talk to her tomorrow.
He would apologize.
He would fix this.
Because Amara loved him.
She always had.
She always would.
He believed that.
He needed to believe that.
And with that fragile thread of hope, he drove off into the sleeping city — carrying a regret that no longer whispered…
But screamed.