Amara practically ran back to her department, slipping into her chair like someone being chased by invisible spirits. The moment she sat, she dropped her elbows onto her desk and buried her burning face into her hands.
Her heartbeat hadn't slowed down since the moment she scrambled off Damian. Every blink replayed that embarrassing scene—the closeness, the fall, the way Damian's breath mingled with hers, and worst of all… Kael and Clariss standing there, witnessing everything.
Please, someone, let the floor open up and swallow me whole, she thought miserably.
Her ears were burning. Her cheeks felt like fire. She couldn't remember the last time she had ever been this flustered.
"Amara?"
She flinched at a co-worker's voice. When she lifted her head slightly, several pairs of curious eyes were on her. Her co-workers at nearby desks were whispering to one another.
"Are you sick? Your ears are so red," one asked.
"You look feverish," another said.
"Did you run back here?"
Amara forced a stiff smile, waving her hand lightly. "I'm fine. Really. I'm okay."
She answered every concerned question as politely as she could, even though her voice sounded a little too tight. After everyone finally returned to their work, Amara pressed a hand over her chest and inhaled deeply through her nose.
Calm down… calm down… it's just Damian.
But her heart refused to obey. It kept pounding as if someone was knocking from the inside.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady herself.
Too late.
The exact reason her heart was going wild… arrived.
"Amara."
Her eyes flew open.
No. No no no—
She instinctively stood up, intending to slip away between the desks before he reached her, but Damian was faster. His hand gently but firmly caught her wrist.
"Don't."
The single word froze her.
A stunned hush fell over the nearby desks. Everyone recognized his voice—it was Damian's—and yet… he sounded nothing like the aloof, intimidating man they were used to.
When Amara reluctantly turned, she was not prepared for what she saw.
Damian wasn't cold.
Damian wasn't unreadable.
Damian… looked like a giant puppy that'd just been left outside in the rain.
His eyes were wide, softened, pleading. There was an expression on his face none of their co-workers had ever seen. The office collectively gasped—quietly, of course, but the surprise was unmistakable.
"Why…" Damian's voice came out softer than Amara had ever heard. "Why are you avoiding me?"
"I-I'm not avoiding—"
"You were," he said instantly, almost childishly. "You were going to escape."
Amara's shoulders slumped. Everyone's looking.
Damian stepped closer—not too close, but enough that she felt trapped by his gaze more than his hand. He lowered his voice, but many people could still hear him.
"Don't avoid me because of earlier," he said, brows drawing together. "Please. I can't handle it if you avoid me."
The word please nearly made Amara's knees give out. This man—this usually emotionless statue of a human—was begging her? In front of the office?
"D-Damian… don't look at me like that," she whispered weakly.
"Then don't run away."
He sounded heartbreakingly sincere.
Her face heated again, and she had to avert her gaze.
"I'm not avoiding you," she finally said truthfully. "But I… I just need a little time. My heart is still—"
She paused, realizing what she was about to admit.
Damian waited patiently, eyes soft, grip gentle.
"My heart is still… going crazy," she muttered under her breath.
His lips curved upward—slowly first, then into a warm, unmistakably happy smile. It brightened his usually stern features so much that several co-workers elbowed each other in shock.
"I'll give you time."
His voice was playful, almost teasing now. "Until lunch."
"What—lunch?" Amara blinked, stunned.
"I'm still planning to eat with you," he said matter-of-factly, as if it was already decided and she had no say in it.
"Damian—"
"Lunch," he repeated, with the confidence of someone who refused to negotiate. "I'll come get you."
And before she could protest or even process his declaration, he released her wrist, turned, and walked away with a bounce in his step.
A bounce.
Damian—the coldest man in the building as what she heard from the people in the office—was walking away as if flowers were blooming around him.
Amara plopped back into her chair, covered her face again, and groaned softly.
"Oh no…"
"Oh no, no, no…"
She shook her head vigorously. "How am I supposed to calm down by lunch?"
Her co-workers didn't tease her, but all of them were staring at her like she was the main character of some drama airing live in front of their eyes.
She didn't realize someone else had also witnessed everything.
Someone whose rage was simmering just behind the slanted blinds of the department head's office.
Kael stood there, gripping the blind's handle so tightly it creaked. His eyes were glued to the scene outside—Damian holding Amara's wrist… Damian smiling at her… and Amara getting flustered in a way she never did for him anymore.
His jaw tightened.
His breathing grew uneven.
His pride—already wounded from earlier—trembled at the sight.
She's letting him hold her wrist now? She's letting him smile at her like that? And she's smiling back?
His heart hammered with a mix of jealousy and something uglier—fear.
He watched Damian walk away.
Watched Amara slump in her seat, cheeks still pink from embarrassment.
Watched the co-workers whisper excitedly.
Damian… you think you can just—
Kael's nails dug into his palm.
No. She still loves me. She always loved me. She'll come back. She always came back.
But the words sounded weaker than before.
And the image of Amara and Damian falling… their faces close… Damian calling her name so sweetly…
It replayed over and over in his mind like a nightmare.
Kael's pride was burning.
His stomach twisted painfully.
Every part of him hurt at the thought of losing her.
And for the first time… he felt like he truly might.