The candlelight flickered softly against the walls of Luca's flat, casting a warm, golden glow on Amira's bare shoulders. Rain tapped lightly against the windows, like applause from the universe itself, soft and rhythmic. The melody of a jazz record crackled in the background, wrapping them both in its moody lullaby.
Amira stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in one of Luca's white shirts, her skin still tingling from the night before.
Her reflection looked… different.
More woman than girl.
More fire than fragile.
Behind her, Luca stirred beneath the sheets, groggy and shirtless, his dark curls mussed, a lazy grin stretching across his face. "Come back to bed," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep.
She smiled gently. "I need water. And maybe to process last night without combusting."
He chuckled. "Combustion sounds like a compliment."
She laughed too, walking into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass. She could still feel him on her—his hands, his mouth, the way he made her forget Noah ever existed. For once, she felt like the center of gravity rather than someone orbiting around someone else.
Just as she raised the glass to her lips, her phone buzzed against the counter. A single notification.
Noah: "Meet me. One last time."
Her stomach twisted. After weeks of silence, dodging, then begging, now he wanted a meeting?
She stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen.
Luca walked in, now wearing gray sweatpants and rubbing his eyes. "You okay?"
She quickly locked the phone. "Yeah. Just a reminder I have vocal warmups later today."
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then his lips wandered up her neck. "Stay. Let the world wait for you this time."
The intimacy, the affection—it felt real. Luca didn't just desire her. He saw her.
"I'll stay a little longer," she whispered.
---
Later that afternoon, Amira pulled up her hood and stepped out into the London drizzle. She had told Luca she needed a walk to clear her head. She didn't mention the address Noah sent her was only ten minutes away.
Why she was going, she didn't know. Closure? Curiosity? Or the sick ache that still lingered under her ribcage, where love used to live?
She found him outside a hotel lounge in Knightsbridge, dressed in black, smoking a cigarette he probably didn't even like. He looked up, startled that she actually came.
"No hugs," she said flatly.
"I wasn't expecting one." He stubbed out the cigarette, nervous. "Thanks for coming."
"You have five minutes."
Noah's eyes flicked over her, trying to read her the way he used to. "You look… beautiful."
"Is that what you called me for? To repeat what you never said when we were together?"
He winced. "I made mistakes."
"You made a fool out of me."
"I was scared. Of commitment. Of messing things up. But I never stopped loving you."
Her jaw clenched. "Then you should've fought harder. You should've opened the door that day instead of pretending I was a delivery."
Noah stepped closer. "I know. But I'm here now, Amira. I want to fix it."
She blinked against the rain. "You don't get to fix a shattered record. You just learn to stop dancing to its tune."
---
Back at Luca's flat, she returned quieter than she left.
Luca noticed instantly. "Was your walk… okay?"
She hesitated. "I ran into Noah."
His smile faltered. "Did you go to see him?"
"Yes." Her honesty was a blade. "I had to. To make sure I was done."
Luca took a step back. "And are you?"
Her heart thundered. "I want to be."
Luca looked down, jaw working. "That's not a 'yes.'"
"I'm trying. I promise."
He studied her face. Then, to her surprise, he didn't walk away. He stepped forward, cupped her cheeks, and kissed her—slow, searching, like he needed to remind her what was real.
And this time, it was Amira who pulled him in first, hungry, desperate for the fire to burn away the ghosts.
Clothes hit the floor. So did her doubts.
Their lips met with ferocity—nothing sweet, nothing shy. Just pure, raw hunger. Amira tugged at Luca's shirt, her fingers desperate, her breath catching when his hands found the soft skin beneath her blouse.
It wasn't just passion.
It was defiance.
A declaration that her body was hers again—and she could choose who had the right to worship it.
He lifted her onto the kitchen counter effortlessly, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her collarbone. Her thighs clamped around his waist as she moaned into his ear, "Don't stop."
His voice was thick, trembling against her skin. "I'm not sure I can even if I wanted to."
She felt drunk—on him, on the way he made her feel adored, desired, safe. Her nails raked down his back as he kissed her like he had nothing to lose and everything to prove.
"Say it," he groaned into her neck.
"What?"
"That you're mine. Just for tonight."
She looked into his eyes, fire clashing with storm clouds. "I'm yours," she whispered.
And that was all he needed. He lifted her off the counter and carried her to his bed like she weighed nothing. Rain still pattered against the window, but inside, it was thunder.
Sheets tangled.
Breathless gasps echoed.
And when they reached the edge, they didn't fall—they soared.
---
Later, Luca lay with her pressed against his chest, his fingers tracing idle circles on her back.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Amira nodded, curled into the crook of his arm. "Yeah."
"Not regretting anything?"
She bit her lip, then looked up. "No. Not even a little."
But in her heart… a war still raged.
Because part of her wanted to believe in this.
In him.
In a future that didn't involve heartbreak and apologies whispered through tears.
But then there was Noah's voice—still echoing like a broken track.
"I never stopped loving you."
And the worst part was…
She wasn't entirely sure she'd stopped either.
---
The next morning, Amira stood at the kitchen window, Luca's shirt hanging loosely on her frame again.
She sipped her coffee slowly. But her eyes weren't on the street—they were on the letter resting unopened on the table. A letter from Noah, hand-delivered to her apartment earlier that morning.
He had written it. And walked away.
She hadn't told Luca.
Couldn't.
Not yet.
Because what if it said everything she wanted to hear?
What if it asked her to come back?
And worse…
What if some part of her still wanted to?
Luca came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"You feel like home," he whispered.
She smiled faintly, heart torn.
"Let's just… stay in today," he added.
She turned to face him, trying to match his smile. "Yeah. Let's."
But even as she kissed him again, the unopened letter screamed silently behind her.