The morning light slid slowly into the suite with thin, pale streaks of gold seeping through the blinds, soft enough to bruise the quiet.
The first thing Amara noticed was the scent of coffee.
The second was the sound around her suite. The sound was low, distant, and metallic. Someone was moving around the kitchen.
For a second, her body tensed, and her mind went blank. Then the memory of last night came back like a wound reopening.
He was alive.
He was here.
And he'd looked her in the eye and told her he didn't know her.
What should she have expected from a liar?
Amara sat on the edge of the bed, her robe slipping from one shoulder. Her pulse was a fragile drum beneath her skin, her chest was tight with disbelief and leftover ache.
When she finally pushed open the bedroom door, light spilled across the living area.
He stood there, by the counter, with his sleeves rolled up. His tie was gone, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The morning light hit the sharp plane of his face, the scar along his jaw, with the stillness that was so him it almost hurt to look at.
Elias.
No, Michelle. The man before her was a ghost wearing his skin.
He moved with deliberate calm, pouring coffee into a mug.
A knock on the door broke the fragile silence.
Elias didn't even wait a second. "Come in," he said simply.
The door opened, and Travis stepped inside.
He looked every bit the man of the morning — pressed suit, easy smile, the faint trace of exhaustion under his eyes. His brows lifted slightly when he saw her. "Amara. You're up early."
He had expected to wait a while before she met him.
She opened her mouth to reply, but then his gaze shifted toward the kitchen, and then he froze temporarily.
Amara blinked, still disoriented, still caught between two lives she didn't know how to reconcile. "Travis, I—"
Elias turned slightly at the sound of his voice, his profile unreadable.
He didn't speak. He didn't even look at Travis properly. He just acknowledged his presence with a glance that was more of a dismissal than greeting.
Travis blinked, taken aback. "Oh. I didn't realize you had someone here."
Elias didn't look up. "An administrative mix-up," he said flatly.
Travis's brows furrowed, but his tone remained polite. "Right… I see."
The air went still. The air was awkward in all the wrong ways.
Travis's gaze flicked between them again, from Amara's faintly flushed face to the stranger's calm detachment. He caught the tension immediately, though he couldn't name it.
"I, uh, just came by to check in before the morning panel," he said finally, turning slightly toward Amara. "I didn't want to intrude."
"You're not," she said too quickly, her voice thin.
Elias turned off the stove. The faint hiss of the gas dying filled the silence.
He didn't glance at Travis again, not even out of courtesy. He just dried his hands with a folded towel, adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, and finally looked toward the hallway door.
For the briefest second, though, when his eyes flicked between Amara and Travis, something dark and unreadable crossed his face.
He turned, walking past them both, his movements so calm it almost looked effortless. But the tension in his jaw gave him away. The air shifted with him.
He didn't say a word.
But before he reached the door, his gaze flicked once again, briefly between her and Travis.
Then he rolled his eyes softly, turned the knob, and walked out.
The door shut behind him with the quietest click.
Amara exhaled shakily, realizing only then that she'd been holding her breath since he entered the kitchen.
Travis exhaled, running a hand over the back of his neck. "So… that was…?"
She didn't look at him. "No one."
He hesitated. "He didn't seem like no one."
Amara's lips curved faintly, humorless, and sharp. "He's no one."
Travis blinked, clearly unsure what to make of that. He shifted his stance, professional composure kicking back in. "If it's a hotel issue, I can have the event staff sort it out. You don't need to handle it yourself."
"It's fine," she said.
He nodded slowly, sensing the invisible wall she'd built. "Alright. Just… make sure you eat something before the session starts. You skipped dinner last night."
She managed a small nod. "I will."
Travis smiled, before turning toward the door. "I'll see you downstairs, then."
When he left, the silence that followed was unbearable.
The air still smelled faintly of his cologne, and under it, the ghost of another. Elias's.
Amara's chest ached. She turned toward the counter, staring at the two mugs. One half-drunk, and one untouched.
He'd left without a word, but his presence lingered like gravity.
Even when gone, he filled every space.
She pressed her palms against the counter, her reflection faint in the dark glass.
Her pulse hadn't caught up yet.
She'd thought she'd be numb after seeing him again. But numbness didn't ache this way.
She let out a shuddering exhale and reached for her mug, though the coffee was already cold.
Then the door opened again.
Her body went rigid.
For one wild second, she thought it was him. But then a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Sorry—"
It was Travis. He stood at the doorway, a faint frown pulling at his brow, with a phone charger in hand. "I think I left my phone on the table—"
He stopped when he saw her.
She didn't turn.
Travis hesitated. "Amara?"
Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to. "It's fine. You can get it."
He nodded and crossed the room, his shoes soundless against the carpet. He picked up his phone from beside the couch, glancing once toward her as though unsure if he should leave or say something.
"Hey…" His tone softened. "Are you okay?"
Amara's lips parted. "Define okay."
He smiled faintly. "You don't have to pretend with me."
"That's the problem," she said quietly. "I don't even know what pretending looks like anymore."
He hesitated, his gaze steady. "You can talk to me, you know. Whatever that was earlier, he didn't seem like someone who should be anywhere near you."
Amara laughed under her breath, the sound fragile. "He isn't."
Travis didn't flinch. "I'm not blind, Amara."
She looked away, her jaw tightening. "You don't know what you saw."
"I know what I felt when I walked in," he said. "The air in that room could cut."
Amara pressed a hand to her forehead, exhaling. "You shouldn't have to get caught up in—"
"I don't mind getting caught up," he interrupted softly. "If it means you stop shaking."
She hadn't even realized she was.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered her hand, her eyes meeting his.
He took a small step closer. "You don't have to say anything. Just let me be here."
Her breath hitched. "Travis—"
However, he was already closer.
He lifted his hand slowly, hesitating as though giving her time to stop him. When she didn't, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
It was the gentlest touch she'd felt in years.
And maybe that was what broke her.
Maybe that was why, when his hand cupped her jaw, she didn't move away. When his lips found hers, she let him.
Not because she wanted him.
Because for one breathless, desperate second, she wanted to feel something that didn't hurt.
The kiss deepened slightly, enough to make her forget where she was, and enough to make her remember what it felt like to be wanted without ghosts clawing at her chest.
Then, the door clicked open.
The sound was so soft it almost didn't register.
But she felt it. She felt the shift in the air, and the weight.
Elias stood there.
He didn't speak. He simply watched them.
The stillness that followed was almost unbearable.
Travis froze first, pulling back slightly, confusion flashing across his face as his gaze darted toward the door.
Amara didn't turn. She couldn't.
He looked at them both, expression carved from stone. His gaze lingered on her, steady and unreadable, before it dropped briefly to where her hand still rested against the counter.
There were no words, not even a look of accusation. Just a silence so sharp it felt like punishment.
He didn't move closer.
His eyes said everything.
Then, finally, with terrifying composure, he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, and then he turned and walked away, as if giving them privacy for the second time.
The door closed behind him with a sound that might as well have been a gunshot.
Amara's heart stopped.
Travis spoke first, his voice low. "Who's he exactly?"
She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "No one."