Amara closed the door to her mother’s room softly behind her. The noise of the house faded. The voices. The movent. The life outside. All of it stayed on the other side.
Inside, there was only stillness. She sat slowly on the edge of the bed, her fingers unfolding the letter her mother had left behind. The paper felt worn, like it had carried its own weight for years... waiting for this exact mont.
Her eyes moved across the words again. Carefully. Slowly. As if reading them once wasn’t enough to fully understand. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind with every line, strong, gentle, certain. Like she had known.
as she had always known a day would co where Amara would have to stand alone... and choose herself. And now. She wasn’t just choosing for herself anymore. Her hand moved to her stomach again.
Light. Protective. "I have you now..." she whispered. The words settled differently this ti. Not fragile. Not uncertain. But real. Her fingers tightened slightly against the paper before she finally folded the letter and placed it beside her.
Carefully. Respectfully. Like it was sothing sacred. Her gaze drifted toward the window, her thoughts shifting... not to the past this ti. But to Julian. A slow breath left her lips.
"I need to talk to him..." The words were quiet. But necessary. Because no matter how much had changed. That part of her heart hadn’t simply disappeared. She knew he loved her.
She had seen it. Felt it. Even in his confusion... even in his silence. But she also knew sothing else. Sothing heavier.
If this child wasn’t his. It wouldn’t be easy. Not for him. Not for them. And she couldn’t pretend otherwise. Her fingers curled slightly into her dress. "How do I ask him to stay... without knowing?" she murmured softly. The question didn’t need an answer.
Because deep down. She already knew. She couldn’t. She could not ask him to carry a burden he hadn’t chosen. Could not ask him to love sothing he might struggle to accept.
Not like this. Not when everything was already so fragile. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away imdiately. "I never wanted this..." she whispered, her voice breaking just slightly.
Her eyes closed. "This was supposed to be different." This...This was supposed to be her mont. The mont she had dread of. To carry her child. To build a family.
To finally have sothing that was hers without pain attached to it. But instead...It ca wrapped in doubt. In questions. In choices, she didn’t know how to make. Her hand pressed gently against her stomach again, grounding herself.
A slow breath in. Then out. "Whatever happens..." she said softly, her voice steadier now, "I’ll protect you." Because that part...That part wasn’t negotiable.
Not anymore. She opened her eyes, her gaze clearer now, though still heavy with everything she carried. "I’ll figure it out." Not because it was easy. But because she had no other choice.
And this ti...She wasn’t waiting for anyone else to do it for her. Amara took a deep breath. Not the kind that ca easily. The kind you force into your lungs when your mind won’t stop racing. Then she sat down.
Behind her mother’s desk. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before she began searching, typing, writing, pulling ideas from a dream she had tucked away for years.
A clothing line. It had always been there. Quiet. Waiting. Sothing she told herself she would do "one day." And now. That day had arrived. Not in the way she imagined. But maybe... in the way she needed.
"If not now... then when?" she murmured softly. Her notebook filled quickly. Nas. Concepts. Sketches of designs. Fabric ideas. Suppliers. Logistics, she had never fully considered before.
Because wanting sothing... and building it. Were two very different things. Her brows furrowed as she read through costs, production tilines, and distribution challenges.
"This is harder than I thought..." she whispered under her breath. But she didn’t stop. Hours passed. Quietly. Unnoticed. The sun shifted. Faded. Night crept in slowly, wrapping the room in dim shadows before she even realized it. She was still there. Still working. Still planning.
Still building sothing from nothing. A soft knock pulled her out of it. "Ms. Amara?" She blinked, her eyes lifting from the screen.
"Yes?" The door remained closed, but the maid’s voice ca gently from the other side. "Are you okay? You didn’t co down for lunch... should I get you sothing?" Amara frowned slightly and glanced at the ti. Her eyes widened.
"Oh..." The day was gone. Just like that. "I didn’t realize..." Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach. A small, guilty smile tugged at her lips. "I need to eat," she murmured to herself. "If not for ... for you."
She stood slowly, stretching slightly before reaching for her phone. And that’s when she noticed. No missed calls. No ssages. Nothing. From Julian. Her fingers stilled for a second. A quiet ache settled in her chest.
Maybe he really went back to the Vale mansion... The thought ca uninvited. And it hurt more than she expected. Because even though she had told him to leave...Even though she had ant it. A small part of her had still hoped...
He wouldn’t. Her lips pressed together as she locked her phone. "It’s for the best," she whispered to herself. Not entirely convinced. But needing to be. She pushed the thought away gently, not letting it grow roots.
"Okay," she said a little louder, steadying her voice as she moved toward the door. "I’m coming down now." She shut her laptop. Closed her notebook filled with dreams that suddenly felt real.
Possible. Then she stepped out of the room. Not just to eat. But to keep going. Because now...She had sothing to build. And soone to build it for.
The mont Amara stepped out....Julian walked in. Quietly. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there... but couldn’t stay away either. The room still carried her presence.
Her scent.
User Comments
0 comments from readers