Amara didn't move.
She didn't breathe.
She just stared at him — at Adrian — as if the world had tilted under her feet and she was still trying to find something to hold on to.
"It's always been you," he repeated softly.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heart was beating too fast, too loud, too painfully.
She stepped back without meaning to.
Adrian's expression shifted immediately — not hurt, but worried.
"Amara," he said quietly, "don't pull away."
"I'm not—" Her voice cracked. "I'm not pulling away."
But she was.
Her hands trembled at her sides, her breath uneven. She didn't know what to do with the truth he had just dropped into her hands. It felt too heavy, too fragile, too impossible.
"You…" she whispered, "you can't mean that."
Adrian took a slow step toward her. "I do."
She shook her head. "Adrian, you don't understand. I'm not— I'm not someone people choose."
His brows pulled together. "Who told you that?"
"No one," she said quickly. "It's just… it's just how it is."
"Not with me."
Her breath hitched.
He stepped closer again, but gently this time, giving her space to move if she wanted to. She didn't move. She couldn't.
"Amara," he said softly, "I didn't reject Lyra because I was being kind. I rejected her because I don't feel anything for her. Not like that."
She swallowed hard.
"And when I said there was someone else…" His voice lowered. "I meant you."
Her eyes filled again, but this time it wasn't from hurt — it was from confusion, disbelief, fear, and something she didn't want to name.
"Why?" she whispered.
Adrian blinked. "Why what?"
"Why me?"
He stared at her like she had just asked the most impossible question.
"Because you're… you," he said quietly. "Because you make me want to be better. Because you look at the world like it's something worth protecting. Because you're strong even when you think you're not. Because you make everything feel—"
He stopped himself, jaw tightening as if he'd said too much.
Amara's breath trembled.
She looked down at her hands. "I don't know what to do with this."
"You don't have to do anything," he said gently. "I'm not asking you for an answer. I'm not asking you to feel the same. I just… I needed you to know the truth."
She looked up slowly.
His eyes were steady. Warm. Honest.
"And I needed you to stop hurting because of something that never happened," he added softly.
Her chest tightened.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For… assuming. For running. For crying. For—"
"Amara," he interrupted gently, "you don't have to apologize for feeling."
She looked away, her voice barely a breath. "I just… I didn't want to lose you."
Adrian froze.
Something in his expression cracked — something deep, something raw.
"You're not losing me," he said quietly. "You're not going to lose me."
Her eyes met his again.
And for the first time, she believed him.
The room fell quiet — not heavy, not tense, just… quiet. A soft, fragile quiet that neither of them dared to break.
Adrian took a small step back, giving her space. "If you need time… take it."
Amara nodded slowly.
He reached for the door, hesitated, then looked back at her.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.
And then he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Amara stood there, her heart still racing, her mind spinning, her hands trembling.
She sat back on the edge of her bed.
And for the first time since yesterday…
She could finally breathe.