The cold London air bit at Amira's skin the moment she pushed open the back door of Velvet Tempo. The alley behind the club was quiet, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb above the exit sign. It smelled faintly of smoke and city rain.
And there he was.
Noah.
Leaning against the brick wall like he belonged in some kind of melancholic indie film — dressed in a black coat that probably cost more than the monthly rent of the flat she was crashing in. His dark brown curls were messy, like he'd run his hand through them a hundred times before knocking. His eyes — the ones she used to dream about — looked tortured.
Too bad she wasn't the girl who'd romanticize that anymore.
She crossed her arms. "You've got two minutes. Use them well."
He looked startled for a moment. Maybe he expected her to cry. Or whisper his name. Or fall into his arms like the last seven months never happened.
But she didn't move an inch.
"I… I know I don't deserve this. I just needed to see you."
"You don't," she said plainly. "And yet here you are."
He winced. "Please. Just listen."
Amira didn't say anything. She let the silence do the talking.
Noah swallowed hard, stepping forward cautiously, like she might run if he came too close. "I made a mistake. I was scared. Things with my family were… complicated, and when you showed up in London—"
"You humiliated me."
His voice caught.
"You let me fly across an ocean just to leave me stranded in a city where I knew no one. You ghosted me. Then you broke up with me in public."
Noah's hands shook slightly. "I panicked. My father—he threatened to cut me off completely. Said I'd never inherit the company if I kept dating you."
Amira let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Wow. The poor billionaire."
"Amira, I'm not proud of what I did—"
"Good. Because you shouldn't be."
The door creaked slightly behind her from the wind. A taxi drove by in the distance.
"You don't get to show up now because you regret it," she added. "Regret doesn't undo anything."
"I know." His voice cracked. "But I still love you."
She blinked.
The words hung in the air between them — cold, uninvited, and a little desperate.
"You don't know what love is," she said quietly. "You know what power is. What control is. But love?" Her lips curled slightly. "Love doesn't leave someone in the middle of a storm."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.
A necklace.
Her necklace. The one she left in his flat the night she made him dinner and thought they were forever.
"I kept it," he said, holding it like it meant something.
She didn't reach for it.
Instead, she tilted her head. "You think a chain fixes a choke?"
He flinched.
Amira stepped forward, closer now, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not the girl you left behind. She was naive. She thought love looked like sacrifice. Silence. Shrinking. But I've been singing every night, and I can hear myself now."
Noah's eyes glistened. "I just wanted to say sorry. I know I hurt you. I hate myself for it."
"Then leave."
"But—"
She held up a hand. "You said what you came to say. Now respect what I need."
And for once, Noah listened.
He nodded, slowly backing away, eyes never leaving hers — like he was trying to memorize her face one last time. He turned the corner, and just like that… he was gone again.
This time, on her terms.
---
Inside, Luca was still near the stage, pretending not to pace.
When she walked back in, he looked up. His eyes darted to her face.
"Well?" he asked carefully.
Amira exhaled. "He's gone."
"For now?"
"For good."
Luca walked toward her slowly. "You okay?"
She nodded — not the automatic, empty nod. A real one. "Yeah. Actually… I think I am."
He smiled, something easing in his shoulders.
"Good," he said. "Because you've got two offers from music labels sitting in Marla's office right now. One of them wants to book you for a mini London tour."
She stared at him, eyes wide. "What?!"
He laughed. "Told you. You're gold."
And for the first time in what felt like months, Amira didn't feel broken.
She felt electric.
The next morning, the sunlight that spilled into the guest room of her sister's flat didn't feel like judgment — it felt like possibility.
Amira blinked against the light, stretching her arms and letting the events of the previous night replay in her mind like a vinyl track she didn't hate anymore. She had finally faced Noah. And she hadn't broken.
Instead, she felt… rooted.
She rolled onto her side and checked her phone.
1 New Message — Luca
> "Hope you slept well, Rock Star. Be at the club by 6. You've got some label reps to impress tonight. Also… breakfast?"
Amira smiled to herself, thumbs flying.
> "Only if the eggs aren't runny."
A second later:
> "Your voice deserves solid eggs. I'll pick you up at 10."
---
By 10:15, Luca was leaning against the hood of his sleek black Peugeot with two takeaway cups of steaming coffee and a croissant bag between his teeth.
"You're late," she teased, sliding into the passenger seat.
He handed her a cup. "Fashionably. And hungry."
They drove toward a quiet part of Camden, a small café tucked between an art bookstore and a tattoo studio. The place was quiet, cozy — the kind of shop with real plants, mismatched chairs, and indie music playing low in the background.
They sat by the window, and for the first time since landing in England, Amira felt like she wasn't just surviving — she was living.
"So," Luca began, brushing croissant crumbs from his lap. "You're kind of a big deal now."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "I've performed three songs a night for two weeks, not headlined Coachella."
He leaned forward, his voice serious now. "Amira, I've seen the way people watch you. You light that place up. You sing like you're bleeding velvet."
Her cheeks flushed, and not from the hot drink.
"Thanks," she whispered.
He watched her carefully. "And Noah?"
She stirred her coffee. "He said sorry. But sorry doesn't fix things. I meant what I said — I'm not her anymore."
Luca nodded slowly. "Good. She deserves better anyway."
Her heart thudded a little too hard. "Luca…"
"I know," he said gently. "Too soon. I get it."
They didn't talk about it again — not that morning.
But the silence between them was soft. Comfortable. Like the breath between verses.
---
That night, the club glowed brighter than usual. Marla had spent the whole day redecorating the stage, hiring a photographer, even placing flickering LED candles along the railings of the upstairs booths.
Amira stood in the dressing room, her dress a deep plum that shimmered under the mirror lights, hair curled in glossy waves down her back. Her heels were tall. Her lips were red.
And her nerves?
Everywhere.
Marla popped her head in. "Ready, starlight?"
Amira inhaled. Then smiled. "More than ever."
---
The first song was slow — the kind of bluesy ballad that made the entire room hold its breath. Her voice poured into every corner of the club, thick and honeyed, until even the bartenders stopped moving.
The second song was hers. A new one.
Written just days ago.
"You left a record spinning in the room where you said goodbye…"
As she sang, she scanned the crowd — until she saw them.
Two men in black suits. Sharp jawlines. Eyes that never blinked.
Label execs.
And beside them…
Her breath caught.
A woman.
Glamorous. Early thirties. Hair like obsidian. Legs like a supermodel. And beside her?
Luca.
He was smiling politely. Nodding as the woman spoke to the executives. Then, suddenly, she leaned in and touched his shoulder. Laughing at something.
It wasn't flirtation. Not exactly.
But it wasn't nothing, either.
Amira's voice faltered — just barely.
She pushed through, finished the song. The applause roared. Marla was screaming something from the wings.
But Amira's eyes stayed on the mysterious woman.
After the set, Luca came backstage, grinning. "You killed it."
"Who was she?" Amira asked before he could finish hugging her.
He blinked. "Who?"
"The one with the label reps. Gorgeous. Looks like she lives in Milan."
He hesitated.
"That's... Layla."
She frowned. "Layla?"
"My ex."
Oh.
Of course.
"Small world," she muttered.
"She's not here for me," Luca said quickly. "She's scouting for the label. We didn't even know each other would be here tonight."
Amira nodded, but something inside her tightened.
"She said you were the most captivating thing she's seen in years," he added. "She told them to fast-track a contract."
Amira forced a smile. "That's good."
But her chest ached.
Noah had crushed her heart. She wouldn't let Luca confuse it again.
She needed clarity.
She needed boundaries.
And more than anything, she needed to protect herself before history repeated.
Because you could read a book twice, sure.
But the ending?
It never really changed.