"Why am I with her, huh?"
Max's voice was steady, but there was a distant look in his eyes.
"I won't deny it—I didn't even like her when I was a teenager. What started as friendship slowly turned into… duty. She stood by me when my mother passed, and again when my father remarried. That's why I couldn't walk away."
He took another sip. Though he was drinking, he wasn't drunk. His words were raw, unfiltered, and painfully honest.
"I don't understand," Amara whispered. Her voice barely broke the stillness, yet Max caught the tremor in her tone. He turned to her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"You don't understand?" he echoed, intrigued.
With a slight tremor in her heart, Amara met his gaze—a mix of fear and determination swirling within her. She took a step forward, crossing the invisible line that had always separated them.
"Yes," she said, her voice firming. "I don't understand why you're sad."
Max's eyes widened slightly, startled by her boldness. He said nothing—an invitation for her to go on.
"You don't trust her," she pressed, her heart racing. "If you did, why didn't you tell her you're the heir?"
Amara knew she wasn't his confidante. Yet tonight, as he teetered between sobriety and sorrow, she felt an urge she couldn't suppress—to speak her truth before tomorrow's departure.
For years, she had longed to share laughter with him, but instead, she had remained a quiet shadow in his life, watching him from afar.
"How do you know that?" Max asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Well… you're the princess's son. It's supposed to be you," Amara said steadily, though she was lying. In truth, she had overheard a conversation between Max and her father.
"Amara, she knows that too… but—" Max trailed off, his words hanging heavy in the silence. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them thickened.
"What are you going to do now?" Amara finally asked.
"No, I won't," he said firmly.
"Then what will you do?"
"Well, I'm twenty-one… I'm tired," he said with a weary smile. "A war hero, a loyal dog of Michal, the Crown Prince. They expect me to marry someone soon—to secure my position. Maybe I'll let my father choose… or maybe I'll choose myself."
He leaned back, eyes open and sharp, before adding with a teasing grin, "I already have someone in mind."
He looked straight into Amara's eyes. She quickly turned away.
"What about you, Amara?" Max shifted the topic.
"Excuse me?" she asked, startled.
"I heard you're leaving tomorrow. Why?"
"I… I have to visit my parents," she said, fumbling slightly. "I miss them. It's been three years since the war started. I came here when I was sixteen, and they said they miss me too, so… I miss them."
Max laughed softly. He knew her too well. Whenever Amara lied, she over-explained.
"You miss them?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, standing and dropping lazily onto the couch. His smirk lingered, daring her to continue pretending.