Amara's POV
The sun was already up by the time I opened my eyes, but it wasn't the light that woke me.
It was the quiet.
That heavy kind of quiet that sits on your chest like it knows something you don't.
I lay still for a second, just listening. The fan above me spun lazily, creaking like it was complaining about another day of work. I rubbed at my eyes and sat up slowly, the mattress sighing beneath me. My limbs felt stiff, like I hadn't really slept.
Maybe I hadn't.
But there was no time to think about that.
I looked over. Leo was still fast asleep across the room, curled up with his blanket tucked under his chin like a little burrito. His breathing was soft and steady.
Thank God.
Somehow, just seeing that made it easier to breathe.
I stood up, stretched a little, then walked to the window. The sun had crept in, painting golden streaks across the wall. If this were one of those dramatic Bollywood movies, music would be playing in the background right now. Wind would blow through the curtains, and I'd do a slow-motion spin into a choreographed dance about strength and destiny.
Instead, my ankle cracked, and I stepped on a cold slipper.
So much for cinematic.
Still... I smiled.
"Alright, Amara Dean," I mumbled to my reflection in the mirror as I tied my curls into a bun. "Let's go pretend we've got our life together."
After a shower and my usual internal pep talk, I threw on my navy scrubs, grabbed my little notebook from the nightstand, and stuffed it into my bag. The cover was worn, corners bent, but it was still my favorite thing in the world.
Quotes. Doodles…Words I wasn't brave enough to say out loud.
Before leaving, I knelt beside Leo's bed and kissed his forehead.
"I'll be back soon, okay? Try not to charm the nurses too much."
He didn't stir. Just kept breathing, soft and steady.
---
The walk to the hospital wasn't long like ten minutes, give or take. Long enough to go over everything I didn't want to think about. The scandal. The stares. The way people whispered when they thought I wasn't listening.
It didn't matter.
I had my routine. My smile. My armor.
The glass doors of St. Malrick's slid open with that familiar whoosh, and the second I stepped inside, I straightened up, shoulders back, chin high.
Game face on
"Morning, Nurse Janie!" I called with a cheer.
She looked up from her clipboard and gave me the usual suspicious side-eye. "You're too happy. What are you hiding?"
"Just my tragic backstory," I said with a wink, walking past her. "And maybe a candy bar in my scrub pocket."
Her laughter followed me halfway down the hallway.
It didn't matter how awful my week had been the hospital was still more like home. A complicated, broken, messy kind of home but still.
"Morning, Amara!"
"Hey, sunshine girl!"
"You still working here?" someone teased from radiology.
"Unfortunately for you, yes!" I shouted back, laughing.
I slowed as I reached the west wing.
Room 607.
I didn't knock. Just walked in like I always did.
The room was quiet, clean, and still smelled faintly of sandalwood. A vase of fresh white roses sat on the window sill. Light poured through the blinds in soft golden lines.
And in the bed hooked to a monitor, IV in one arm, eyes already open was him.
Elijah Black.
The man everyone else whispered about in fear.
To me, he was just… father.
"Ohhh," I said with a mock gasp. "You're awake already? I was planning to steal your breakfast while you snored."
His pale eyes turned to me, sharp at first, then softened.
"Good morning, Amara."
I smiled and walked over to his side. "Good morning, Father."
There was something about seeing him like this,so calm, so human that always made me feel a little steadier.
"I might be a tough, strong man," he said, his voice low and tired, "but whenever I see you... my heart is at peace."
My heart tugged a little.
"Of course it is," I said, pulling the chair closer. "I'm your Amara. Who else brings peace and sarcasm in equal measure?"
He chuckled softly. It sounded like gravel and rust, but it was real.
"You look tired," he said after a pause.
"I'm always tired."
"You don't have to come every morning."
"I do," I replied simply. "Because if I don't, who's going to sneak in extra sugar for your tea?"
He smiled at that, eyes drifting toward the window. "You're too good to people who don't deserve it."
I didn't answer right away. I just reached for his wrist to check his pulse and said softly, "Maybe. Or maybe I just know what it feels like to not have anyone."
The room went quiet again.
But not empty
—----
Damien's POV
The wheels hit the runway hard, but I didn't flinch. Just sat there, watching the clouds disappear through the oval window like they were taking my peace with them.
Not that I had much of it to begin with.
"Sir," Milo called from the cabin doorway. "Car's waiting. We're heading straight to the hospital, yeah?"
I didn't bother answering. Just grabbed my coat and walked past him.
The heat outside hit like a slap, but I welcomed it. At least it reminded me I was still alive. That I still had things to finish.
The SUV was parked on the runway. Engine running, blacked-out windows just how I liked it. I slid in, and the driver didn't dare say a word.
I hate hospitals.
Too many memories in places like that. Blood in the walls. Lies in the light.
But today wasn't about me.
It was about him.
—--
St. Malrick's hadn't changed. Same cold halls. Same smell of bleach and pride. Same people looking away when I walked past, pretending not to be afraid.
They always pretended.
I walked straight to the west wing, my shoes echoing against the polished floors. The nurses didn't greet me. Smart.
Room 607.
I paused in front of the half-open door, hand on the knob, something sharp twisting in my chest.
There was a voice inside.
Soft. Familiar.
I stepped in without thinking.
And there she was.
By the bed. Smiling.
The girl from my dreams.
I thought it before I could stop myself the girl from my f**king dreams the one I've been seeing for years and couldn't forget if I tried.
And just like that... she turned.
Our eyes locked.
She froze. Just like I did.
I didn't say a word.
Couldn't.
She looked exactly the same no, not the same. Realer. Like time had layered strength onto her softness. Her eyes were tired but alive. And her presence... it hit like a storm inside a glass room.
And suddenly I felt like I didn't belong in here.
How the hell was she here?
Why was she the one sitting next to the man I'd come to see?
My chest tightened.
"Damien," my grandfather said, his voice breaking through the silence. "You're late."
I didn't respond.
Because I wasn't looking at him.
I was still looking at her.
And she was still staring at me like she didn't know whether to run or breathe
"Damien," my grandfather said again, louder this time. " I said you're late"
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
I was still looking at her.
The girl I never expected to see again… and now couldn't look away from.
She didn't move. Just stood there frozen, lips parted slightly, eyes wide like she wasn't sure this was real either.
My grandfather, either too oblivious or too entertained, leaned back against his pillow with a small smirk.
"Since you've forgotten how to use your words," he said, looking between us, "let me introduce you."
His voice softened just slightly, like he was proud of what he was about to say.
"Damien, this is Amara Dean. The young woman who's been taking care of me for the past few months. She's… special."
I felt that word in my ribs.
Special.
Her name echoed in my head even though I'd already thought it a hundred times.
She finally looked away, just long enough to offer him a small, respectful nod.
Then… her eyes came back to me.
Polite. Careful. Distant.
Like nothing had ever happened between us.
Like I was just some stranger walking into the room.
I hated it.
No …. I hated how much it bothered me.
My jaw clenched, but I forced my voice to come out steady.
"I know who she is."
Her brows twitched slightly. Just enough for me to catch it.
So she remembered too.
Good.
"Hmm," my grandfather hummed, glancing between us with interest. "Small world, then."
Too small, I thought.
Too damn small for me to pretend she didn't still haunt my nights.
Too small to ignore the fire in her eyes that hadn't dimmed one bit.
And now she was here.
In my world.
For real