Amara avoided Adrian for three days. Or at least, she tried to. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart betrayed her with hope. But his messages were short, polite, unreadable. Nothing like the man who had once looked at her like she was the only light in his storm.
She told herself she was done waiting. But her chest ached every time she remembered the way he had almost reached for her, the way his voice had trembled when he whispered her name.
It wasn't enough to let go.
Adrian was unraveling.
He had always prided himself on control—keeping his past buried, his emotions locked away. But Amara had shattered that without even trying. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her walking away, her voice breaking with the words he had forced her to say: Then maybe I should stop waiting.
He couldn't let that be the end.
So one night, when the weight of silence became unbearable, he went to her.
Amara was sitting on the steps of her apartment building, sketchbook balanced on her knees, when his shadow fell across the page.
She looked up—and froze.
"Adrian."
Her voice was soft, wary, but the way her eyes flickered told him she hadn't stopped thinking about him either.
"I shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low, almost hoarse. "But I couldn't stay away."
Her heart stumbled. "Then tell me why. Because right now, all I see is a man who can't decide if he wants me close or far."
The truth pressed against his ribs, begging to be freed. He sat beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her shoulder. For a long moment, neither spoke. The night hummed with crickets and the faint hum of traffic.
Finally, Adrian exhaled.
"There are parts of me you don't know, Amara. Parts I've buried because they're ugly, dangerous. The woman you saw the other night… Cassandra… she's tied to mistakes I made years ago. Mistakes I swore I'd never let touch anyone I care about."
Her breath caught at the word care.
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes raw with vulnerability. "You make me want things I shouldn't. Things I'm afraid will destroy you if you get too close. That's why I pull back. Not because I don't feel something for you."
Her chest tightened. "Then what do you feel?"
The silence that followed was charged, trembling with words he almost said. His hand brushed hers on the step—hesitant, then lingering, as if he couldn't stop himself.
"What I feel…" His gaze burned into hers, dark and unflinching. "…is something I don't know how to walk away from."
The air between them crackled, hot and heavy, the kind that begged to be broken with a kiss. Amara's lips parted, her heart racing so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
But just as the space between them began to collapse, Adrian closed his eyes and pulled his hand back, trembling with restraint.
"I can't," he whispered. "Not yet."
Her throat tightened, disappointment and longing tangled in equal measure. "Then don't expect me to wait forever."
And with those words, she rose, leaving him sitting in the dark—torn between love that consumed him and fear that chained him.