The phone buzzed again.
Adrian froze, his arms still wrapped around Amara, his jaw tightening. He didn't move, didn't reach for it—but the sound felt deafening in the silence of the room.
Amara pulled back slightly, her eyes glistening with unease. "Answer it."
His brows furrowed. "Amara—"
Her voice cracked. "If you don't, I'll always wonder what she wants… and why you keep ignoring it."
Adrian exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. He didn't want this. Not now. Not when their hearts were finally finding each other. But the determination in Amara's eyes left him no choice.
With a heavy heart, he picked up the phone and swiped to accept the call.
"Isabella." His voice was clipped, guarded.
There was a pause. Then, a soft laugh spilled through the speaker—familiar, intimate, the kind of sound that once had meant everything to him. Amara's stomach twisted at the sound.
"Adrian," Isabella purred, her tone smooth, almost mocking. "So you do remember how to answer."
Adrian's grip on the phone tightened. "What do you want?"
"Just to talk," she said sweetly. "I heard you've… moved on. Quite quickly, I might add."
Amara's chest constricted. She hadn't meant to listen, but Adrian hadn't stepped away. Every word hit like a knife.
"That's none of your business," Adrian bit out.
"Oh, but it is," Isabella countered smoothly. "You and I—we never really ended, Adrian. Not properly. You can't just erase what we had."
Amara's throat burned. Never really ended. The words echoed like poison.
Adrian's voice dropped, hard and steady. "It ended the day you walked away, Isabella. I'm not yours anymore."
For a moment, silence crackled across the line. Then Isabella's tone sharpened, venom slipping through the sweetness. "We'll see about that."
Adrian ended the call abruptly, his hand trembling.
When he looked up, Amara was already stepping back, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes shimmered with hurt. "So she thinks it never ended?"
"Amara—"
"You told me she doesn't matter, but clearly she thinks she still does. What am I supposed to believe, Adrian? What if she's right?"
The pain in her voice gutted him. He closed the distance, his hands reaching for her. "You're supposed to believe me. I love you, Amara. You. Not her. Not anymore. I can't control what she says, but I can control what I feel—and it's you. It's only you."
Tears slid down her cheeks as she whispered, "Then prove it, Adrian. Because right now… I don't know if love is enough."
His chest cracked open at her words, but before he could speak again, her phone buzzed this time—pulling both their gazes down.
And when Amara saw the name on her screen, her heart stopped cold.