Amara avoided him.
Not dramatically. Not obviously. But enough.
Enough for Adrian to feel it like a punch to the chest.
The morning passed in a blur of noise — cousins talking, elders discussing business, the usual chaos of the estate — but Amara didn't look at him once.
Not once.
Every time he entered a room, she left. Every time he walked toward her, she turned away. Every time he tried to catch her eye, she focused on someone else.
At first, he thought she was just tired.
By noon, he knew something was wrong.
By afternoon, he was losing his mind.
Late Morning
Adrian walked into the lounge, expecting to see her sitting with Serene like she always did.
She was there.
But the moment she saw him, she stood.
"I'm going to help Cassian," she said quickly.
Cassian blinked. "Help me with wha—"
She grabbed a stack of cards from his hand. "This."
Cassian stared at the cards, confused. "I wasn't—"
Adrian watched her leave, his jaw tightening.
Aiden nudged him. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," Adrian muttered.
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "She's avoiding you."
Adrian didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
Afternoon
He found her in the kitchen, alone, pouring herself a glass of water.
"Amara."
She froze.
Her fingers tightened around the glass.
She didn't turn around. "Yes?"
"Can we talk?"
"I'm busy."
"You're holding water."
"I'm… hydrating."
He stepped closer. "Amara."
She quickly walked past him — straight to Serene.
"Serene, can you help me with something?"
Serene blinked. "Uh… sure?"
Adrian watched her go, confusion twisting in his chest.
She didn't even look at him.
Not once.
Later
He found her again — this time in the garden, sitting with Orion and laughing at something he said.
Adrian approached.
Amara saw him.
Her smile faded.
She stood immediately. "I have to go."
Orion frowned. "You just got here."
"I forgot something."
She walked away quickly, her steps too fast, too tense.
Adrian stared after her, his chest tightening.
Orion looked at him. "Dude… what did you do?"
"I don't know," Adrian said quietly.
And that was the truth.
He didn't know.
But it was killing him.
Evening
He finally caught her alone.
She was in the hallway, heading toward her room, her hair falling over her shoulder, her steps quick and uneven.
"Amara."
She froze.
Slowly, she turned.
Her eyes didn't meet his.
"Are you avoiding me?" he asked softly.
"No," she whispered.
He stepped closer. "You are."
"I'm not."
"You haven't looked at me all day."
She swallowed. "I've been busy."
"Doing what?"
"Things."
"What things?"
She took a step back. "Adrian, please—"
He stepped forward, closing the distance she kept trying to create.
"Talk to me," he said quietly. "Tell me what I did."
Her throat tightened.
He reached out slowly, gently — giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed her wrist.
"Amara," he whispered, "why won't you look at me?"
Her eyes finally lifted — just for a second — and he saw it.
Hurt.
Real hurt.
His chest tightened painfully.
"Tell me," he murmured. "Please."
But she shook her head, stepping back.
"I can't," she whispered.
And before he could stop her, she turned and walked away — leaving him standing in the hallway, confused, worried, and more afraid than he wanted to admit.
He didn't know what happened.
He didn't know what he did.
But he knew one thing:
He was losing her.
And he didn't understand why.