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The quiet rhythm between them was still hanging in the air when the door swung open.
Amara didn't look up immediately, still threading her needle.
But she heard it—quick, confident footsteps, heels clicking neatly against the wooden floor.
When she finally glanced up, the woman who had entered seemed to bring with her a different kind of presence. One that demanded attention without asking for it.
She was beautiful.
Tall, graceful, the kind of beauty that was perfectly planned—not effortless like Amara's, but polished, deliberate. The woman smiled brightly, but the edges of it were a little too sharp.
"Xavier," she sang, walking toward him and slipping her arm easily through his. "You didn't tell me you'd be here."
Xavier blinked, his composure faltering for a heartbeat. "Lilian. I… didn't expect you."
Her laughter was soft, pleasant. "I wanted to see the shop for myself. You've been talking about it so often." She turned her attention to Amara. "You must be the tailor. It's so lovely to finally meet you."
Amara's eyes swept over her carefully—her flawless makeup, her pearl earrings, the soft floral scent that floated in with her.
She offered a nod, slow and unreadable. "Likewise."
Lilian approached the work table, her smile still firmly in place. "You're very talented, Xavier says so. He's told me how detailed your work is, how you pay attention to the smallest things."
She tilted her head slightly, as if inspecting Amara's face for something.
Amara gave a small, indifferent shrug. "I just do my job."
"Oh, but it's more than just a job, isn't it? It's art." Lilian's gaze briefly flicked to the fabric in Amara's hands. "I admire that. I could never sit in one place for hours like you do. I'd go mad."
"Some of us find peace in quiet things."
"That's true." Lilian's eyes lingered on Amara for a second too long before returning to Xavier. "So… what brings you here, darling? I thought you left all the wedding details to me."
Xavier's voice was calm but quick, as if he'd already prepared his answer. "Just checking on the progress since you haven't shown much interest."
There was a flicker in Lilian's eyes—quick, controlled. She recovered easily. "Oh, you know me, I trust you to handle these things."
Amara's fingers tightened slightly around her needle.
The friendliness was overdone. The compliments too easy. The way Lilian's arm clung to Xavier… just tight enough to mark her territory.
It was the kind of performance Amara had seen many times.
She wasn't impressed.
"You're quite free to drop by anytime you like," Lilian added, smiling at Xavier but loud enough for Amara to hear. "I don't mind you visiting her."
"That's generous of you," Amara said, her tone flat, unreadable.
"Of course." Lilian's voice was sweet, her grip on Xavier's arm just a little firmer. "I mean, you're a professional, right? There's nothing to be worried about."
Amara looked directly at her then, her gaze steady and cool. "Right."
The weight of Lilian's words lingered. Amara could tell it was meant to sound casual, but there was a small, pointed message beneath it—a subtle claim on Xavier, a reminder of who he belonged to.
Still, Amara didn't blink. Didn't rise to the bait.
She returned to her stitching, the soft pull of thread the only sound for a moment.
Lilian wandered the shop, trailing her fingers lightly over the shelves as if she cared, but her attention kept drifting back to Xavier.
"You should try on the suit soon," she said, turning back to him. "I want everything to be perfect."
"I will."
"And you…" Lilian's eyes found Amara again. "You'll make sure it's perfect too, won't you?"
"I always do my work well."
"Wonderful." Lilian beamed. "I like that about you."
The comment was sugar-coated, but Amara heard the quiet edge in it—the silent challenge wrapped in syrup.
She didn't care for it.
When Lilian finally announced she had another appointment, she leaned in to kiss Xavier's cheek, her eyes briefly flicking to Amara as she did.
"I'll see you later, darling."
Xavier nodded, watching her leave, the bell chiming softly behind her.
Silence returned.
Amara continued stitching as if nothing had happened, but her mind replayed the woman's visit.
"She's nice," Xavier said after a moment, his voice unsure.
"Sure."
"You don't think so?"
Amara's lips curved slightly, not quite a smile. Why does my opinion matter, it's your choice isn't it.
"Yeah my choice."
Amara's needle paused. "Why did it feel like she was quiet interested in me."
Xavier chuckled softly, almost nervously. "She's just like that. She's… social."
"Maybe." Amara resumed her stitching. "But I don't trust social."
There was no heat in her words. Just calm observation.
Xavier studied her, but he didn't argue.
The thread slipped easily through the fabric as Amara worked, her cold distance still firmly intact.
She wouldn't ask him to stay.
She wouldn't ask him to go.
But somewhere, quietly, she was beginning to see the shape of something beneath the surface.
Something neither of them was ready to name.