By the time Amara and Bella finished their so-called "dinner," the sky had turned heavy and grey.
(Not that salad really counted as dinner.
But somehow the two of them managed to stretch it out like they were goats attending a fancy five-course banquet.)
Not because of manners.
Oh no.
Lucien had said nothing about manners.
The suffering came from two completely different disasters:
Disaster 1: Amara, who kept zoning out every two minutes, staring at the ceiling, the lights, the table, the air—anything except the people around her. She ate her salad leaf by leaf like she was contemplating the meaning of lettuce.
Disaster 2: Bella, who spent the entire time throwing goo-goo eyes at Edward, softly smiling, brushing her hair behind her ear, and forgetting she even had a fork.
Combined, this turned their meal into the slowest dinner in human history.
Lucien had nearly lost his mind from secondhand awkwardness.
Edward sat there pretending he wasn't silently panicking under Bella's gaze.
Amara occasionally stabbed leaves like they insulted her ancestors.
It was painful.
For everyone except Bella.
Bella was having a great time.
Now the evening had settled deep, clouds hanging low like someone had draped a charcoal blanket over the town.
It wasn't raining yet—but the wind had that restless, chilly bite that whispered soon.
The warm lights from the restaurant glowed behind them as the three of them stepped out: Bella, Amara, and Edward—the emo garnish to the group.
Lucien had escaped the scene minutes earlier with the excuse of
"I'll bring the car around."
Which actually meant:
He could no longer survive Amara's brain-cell-erasing logic for another salad leaf.
So he fled.
Respectfully.
Now Bella and Edward stood awkwardly beside each other, talking in that quiet, shy, I-like-you-but-I-don't-know-how-to-breathe way.
Amara?
She minded her own business.
Which meant she stood there with her arms crossed, puffing her cheeks from the cold breeze, looking like a very offended small cat.
Edward, unfortunately, had a death wish.
Because he opened his mouth.
"Bella…Amara... you two shouldn't hang out with us."
The air froze.
Bella turned toward him slowly.
Amara turned even slower—like she was performing the ancient ritual of What Did He Just Say?
Edward continued, emo expression fully activated.
"It's safer if you two stay away. From us."
Bella's brows knitted, ready to argue—
—but Amara stepped forward like a tiny general going to war.
"Who," she asked, voice flat and dangerous,
"are you… to decide who we hang out with?"
Edward blinked.
Amara wasn't done.
Not even close.
"And who are you to decide for other people too? Just because you don't like something—" she jabbed a finger lightly at his chest,
"—doesn't mean everyone else also doesn't like it."
Edward opened his mouth, confused but committed to his emo monologue.
Amara bulldozed straight over him.
"Maybe Rose"—she meant Rosalie, but she called her Rose when she felt dramatic—
"won't want to hang out with Bella. Fine. She's scary but beautiful. I get it."
Edward's soul tried to leave his body.
"But others like her."
Amara pointed at Bella proudly, like she was presenting a trophy.
"And Rose likes me, too."
Bella choked on a laugh.
Edward short-circuited.
This was supposed to be his danger vibes warning.
His dramatic supernatural "stay away" speech.
This child—this chaotic gremlin girl—had turned it into a popularity discussion.
Edward stared at her like he couldn't believe someone had the nerve to misinterpret him this magnificently.
Amara wasn't done humiliating him.
"Also," she added casually, "if someone doesn't like you—"
she tapped his forehead gently,
"—doesn't mean they won't like me."
Bella covered her face, shoulders shaking.
Edward stood there, emo, wet-cat energy, brain buffering.
That's when headlights swept over them.
A luxury car—dark, sleek, expensive enough to cry—rolled toward them silently.
Lucien's car.
He stopped right in front of them, window sliding down smoothly.
His expression was… a painting.
One eyebrow raised.
Eyes sliding from Edward, to Bella, then landing directly on Amara.
Completely ignoring the other two.
His voice was calm, low, and so annoyingly warm it could melt steel.
"What happened?"
He wasn't asking them.
He was asking her.
Amara looked at Edward with the most unimpressed expression known to mankind, then turned to Lucien.
"Nothing," she said.
"Edward's being moody."
Bella snorted behind her.
Edward looked personally victimized.
Lucien nodded slowly, like he already expected it.
Like "Edward is moody" was a diagnosis he fully recognized.
"Get in," he said, only to Amara.
She walked around the car and slipped into the passenger seat without hesitation—like she belonged there.
Bella and Edward exchanged looks—hers amused, his horrified—and then climbed into the back.
The doors shut.
The engine purred.
Lucien glanced at Amara once more, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in that soft smile he only gave her.
Outside, the wind picked up and the night deepened, but the inside of the car felt warm—
warm with headlights,
warm with quiet breathing,
warm with the strange, unspoken comfort that followed Amara wherever she went.
Edward sulked in the back.
Bella tried not to laugh.
Lucien drove away.
And Amara rested her cheek on the cold window glass, watching the dark, cloudy sky like it was whispering secrets only she understood.
The night felt slow.
Gentle.
Soft in a way that only begins when something is changing.
Something small.
Something warm.
Something named Lucien.
A quiet breath left her lips, fogging the glass for a moment before fading away—like her thoughts always did.
And then—
Rain.
It started with a soft patter.
A few drops tapping lightly on the roof.
Then suddenly the sky opened up, and a curtain of rain began to fall, streaking across the windows until everything outside blurred into watery shapes and silver lights. The glass fogged at the edges. The sound was steady, soothing, like the night was humming a lullaby.
Inside the car, a warm glow wrapped around them—soft dashboard lights, quiet breathing, the low hum of the engine.
Amara could feel Lucien's eyes flick toward her.
Not intrusive.
Not demanding.
Just… there.
Present in a way that made her chest feel strange and fluttery.
So she turned her head, slowly, quietly, hoping he wouldn't notice how her heart jumped just a little.
He looked… annoyingly beautiful.
Focused on the road, jaw relaxed, the faint glow from the dashboard tracing his sharp cheekbones. Rain glistened against the windshield, reflecting in his eyes like scattered stars.
Amara immediately looked away.
No way she was telling him he looked handsome.
Absolutely not.
Never.
Not even under torture.
"…Thank you," she said suddenly, softly, words almost swallowed by the rain.
Lucien's fingers tightened just slightly around the steering wheel, like he'd been waiting—just waiting—for her to speak.
"For today," she added, eyes dropping to her hands. "I know that sometimes I'm… hard to handle. And I—"
Her throat tightened.
She didn't know how to say it.
How to explain the strange ache inside her chest.
How to explain the heaviness of being dropped into a world that wasn't hers.
How to explain the confusion—nothing feeling real, yet everything feeling too real at the same time.
How to explain being near vampires, knowing too much, hiding too much, and still wanting to smile.
But before she could fumble through her emotions—
Lucien spoke.
Soft.
Even.
Steady.
"Amara," he said, turning his head just enough to meet her eyes, rainlight flickering over his face, "I will always be there for you."
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't forced.
It was honest.
So honest her chest tightened again—but in a better way this time, like something settling into place.
Their eyes held for a moment longer than it should have—warm, quiet, charged with something that made the rain feel louder around them.
In the back seat—
Edward sulked dramatically, staring out the window like a punished Victorian child.
Bella, meanwhile, was smiling like she was witnessing her favourite romance drama live.
Lucien didn't seem to care.
Amara definitely didn't care.
For a moment, the world was just the two of them.
Amara's lips lifted into the softest smile—warm, shy, real.
Lucien saw it.
And his own expression shifted—gentle, protective, almost relieved—as he returned it.
She turned back to the windshield, watching the road blur under the rain. And then, like a quiet whisper in her mind, a small tug pulled at her thoughts.
Like she had forgotten something.
Something important.
The car slowed.
Red and blue lights flashed faintly through the rain, reflecting across the wet road.
Bella leaned forward, squinting.
"…That's my dad's car."
Edward nodded grimly.
"And that's my father's."
Amara felt a cold drop of worry slide down her spine as Lucien eased the car closer, rain thundering around them.
The night, once soft and gentle, suddenly felt different.
Heavier.
Hey guys 👋
✨ If you enjoy my story and want to support me, you can leave a tip here 👉 https:// Streamelements.Com / z1ref/tip
Your support means a lot and keeps me motivated 💖
Guys, if you like it please support it — it will mean a lot 💕