Chapter 154: Chapter 154
Music Recommendation: us. by Gracie Abrams ft Taylor Swift.
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"No, you can’t." Amara warned with all seriousness. Those words felt like a joke, and also like a door.
She didn’t want him to have such excess access to her. If history was clear, someone always ends up in ruins with this.
Her parents’ love is beautiful. However, theirs seems like fate. This thing going on with Elias still feels like something is wrong. She still has doubts.
The flames always end up in aches.
Amara didn’t move away. Her warning was sharp, but her body betrayed her. Her arms still rested against him, with her head still tilted forward, as though her bones had finally grown tired of holding her upright.
"No, you can’t," she repeated, stern this time, and her eyes narrowed like she meant it. But her voice cracked halfway, undercutting her resolve.
Elias didn’t flinch. He didn’t withdraw. His thumb traced lazy circles at the back of her hand, a rhythm that was both grounding and infuriating. His voice, when it came, was softer than the steam curling out of the pan behind him.
"Five days feels longer than it should have been."
The words slipped between them like smoke, wrapping around her before she could build another wall.
Amara shut her eyes. Her throat tightened. Why did he have to say it like that? Like it wasn’t an accusation, like it wasn’t meant to guilt her, but simply a fact of his existence?
She tried to pull her hand back, but he didn’t let go. His grip wasn’t tight. Rather, it was the opposite, really. It was loose enough that she could’ve slipped away if she truly wanted to. But the quiet steadiness of it made her hesitate. It felt less like possession and more like a tether.
"You don’t get to say things like that," Amara murmured, her voice thin, and brittle.
"I only told the truth." His gaze lingered on her face, watching every flicker of expression. "Do you want me to lie?"
Her lips parted, but no answer came. She hated how comforting this felt, and how easy it made everything feel.
She immediately pulled herself away from his arms, and continued eating like nothing just happened.
"Damn it," she murmured. "This is so good." She finally confessed.
Elias chuckled, and cracked his knuckles, watching her. He watched her take her plate over to the dinning table, so he joined her.
Amara finished the last bite with silence weighing over the room, wiped her lips with the edge of a napkin, and took a full glass of water. The coolness slid down her throat, calming the tremor in her chest.
She set the glass down, pushed her chair back, and stood.
"I’ll pick up my laptop, a few notes, and leave," she said flatly, her tone slicing through the soft warmth that had lingered in the air like fragile smoke.
Elias blinked. His hand was halfway to his own glass. He sat up straighter immediately, his brows furrowing, and the warmth in his eyes flickering with confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"
The question hung, searching for an answer.
Amara ignored it. She stacked her plate, and carried it toward the sink, moving with clinical precision, as though she hadn’t heard him at all.
His jaw worked. The soft rhythm he had carried only moments ago was gone, replaced with something taut, and desperate.
"You can’t stay for even an hour?" he asked again when her silence pressed harder against him than any reply. His voice lowered, a mixture of plea and frustration.
Her back didn’t turn. She rinsed the plate, set it aside, and let the water run a beat too long. Then she switched it off and finally turned. Her gaze was sharp, with her lips pressed into a line.
"No," she said, curtly, and decisively.
Elias exhaled, as though the answer had punched the air out of him.
"I came here to my house to relax," Amara continued. Each word was deliberate, as her voice gained an icy edge. "But you invaded it. I don’t know what you want, Elias. With every time we spend together, I have doubts about you. I thought you were here for the sex. You already had that—so why are you still here?"
The words cracked like a whip, louder in the silence that followed.
Elias’s entire body stilled. His chest rose, then froze halfway, as though the air refused to leave him. He turned his face sharply away, his jaw clenched tight, and he blinked hard.
His throat worked once. Twice. His lips pressed together so firmly that they trembled with the effort of holding back.
Amara saw it. She saw the way his shoulders shook subtly. She also saw the glimmer at the edge of his lashes before he blinked it back, fighting the tears she knew were burning through him.
Her own throat tightened. For a heartbeat, she almost stepped forward. She almost reached out. Almost....
But no.
She swallowed, blinking away her own sting. Her words had cut her too, and maybe deeper than they had cut him, but she couldn’t take them back. She couldn’t show softness now, not when she had only just regained control.
"You can leave now," she said instead, her voice calm, collected, cruelly composed. "There’s nothing left for you here tonight."
Her arms crossed over her chest, shielding the war inside her.
Elias stayed frozen, his head tilted away, and his breaths unsteady. He didn’t look at her. Not yet. He needed to perfect his breathing exercise before he turn to her.
The quiet stretched thin, threatening to snap.
Amara didn’t move. She held her ground, her face cold, but her heart.... her heart protested.
Elias finally turned his head, his expression unreadable. His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was more like the kind of hollow gesture someone makes when they’re holding themselves together by a thread.
"Here’s one thing, Amara," his voice was quiet, and steady, despite the crack that almost slipped through. "I really like you. But yes, you’re right. We should spend some days away."
"Months, even," Amara countered, her tone slicing clean, and cold enough to burn him further.
Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, resignation, maybe even relief—but he didn’t argue. He only nodded once, a sharp, final motion.
Without another word, Elias reached for his jacket draped on the couch. He pulled it on slowly. His movements was heavy, and deliberate, as though every muscle was reminding him of what he was walking away from. Then he headed toward the door.
The click of the lock echoed in the silence as he left. He didn’t spare her one more glance.
Amara stood there for a moment, her chest rising and falling too quickly. Then she shrugged lightly, as though brushing the weight off her shoulders. Her expression blanked, as her composure restored itself to her.
She turned on her heel and walked upstairs. Each step was steady, and calm, like nothing had happened at all.