For a mont, Amara thought she was hearing things, her imagination playing cruel tricks on her.
"Sweetie, sweetie... sweetie," Sebastian’s voice ca through the phone again, snapping her out of her daze.
"Our wedding anniversary is just three days away," he said warmly. "I have a surprise planned for you."
"Another surprise?" Amara let out a soft, bitter chuckle.
"You’ve already given so many back then," Sebastian continued. "You stood by when my family was nothing, and everyone else turned their backs on us. Sweetie, I love you more than my own life. No surprise can ever match that."
For a brief mont, Amara felt her breath hitch. So he still rembers... she thought. He rembers I was with him when he had nothing.
But the ache in her chest reminded her of what he had beco. What they had beco.
"My phone’s about to die," she said quietly. "Let’s talk later."
Before he could respond, she ended the call and sank to the floor, clutching her chest as tears stread down her face. mories ca rushing in, sweet, cruel reminders of a love that once felt eternal.
Seven years ago...
"Oh, Amara," Sebastian had laughed, shaking his head. "Why didn’t you tell you went drinking? You can’t keep up with them."
She had smiled, teasingly proud. "I’m fine. And with this new project, your company will get through the crisis."
He looked at her then, eyes soft. "You’re such a silly girl."
"I guess I am," she’d said, leaning into him. "So don’t ever lie to , Seb. If you do... I’ll leave. I’ll disappear completely from your life."
He had cupped her face, whispering, "I will never lie to you. You were made only for ."
Now, rembering those words hurts more than the betrayal itself.
Her mind jumped again, six years ago, her birthday. They had been dancing, laughing under fairy lights, his hands steady around her waist.
"Make a wish," he’d said.
She smiled. "I wish Seb stays safe and well. And that we grow old together."
Back then, she had believed it. Every word.
Then ca the first cracks, the subtle posts on social dia. Elara Langford, smiling beside a candlelit dinner captioned My husband.
The first ti, Amara brushed it off. The second ti, she made excuses. The third ti... she looked away, pretending not to see.
All the clues were there, she thought bitterly, staring at the empty room. And I ignored every single one of them.
She walked to her drawer, pulling out an old photo album, pictures of anniversaries, vacations, laughter that now felt staged. Her fingers trembled as she flipped through them, tears falling onto the glossy pages.
"I thought you and I would be together forever, Seb," she whispered. "Turns out everything changes. Even the heart that swore it never would."
One by one, she tore the photos out, every smile, every kiss, every promise, and dropped them into a silver tray. She struck a match, watching the fla catch, devour, and curl the edges.
The smoke rose slowly, filling the room with the scent of ashes and closure.
As the last photograph turned to embers, Amara whispered, her voice breaking but resolute:
"Sebastian Creed... we’re over."
And this ti, she ant it.
---
Sebastian sat on the couch, pretending to watch as Elara and Seren played together on the rug, Seren’s laughter ringing through the room like music. Elara looked radiant, content, every bit the picture of a perfect little family.
But Sebastian couldn’t focus.
His gaze drifted to the window, where the afternoon light stretched long and thin across the floor. Sothing inside him twisted, a sharp, uneasy pang he couldn’t shake off.
Why did it feel so wrong? So heavy?
He rubbed the back of his neck, his chest tightening as Amara’s face flashed through his mind, her soft smile, the quiet way she said sweetie, the warmth in her eyes when she looked at him with absolute trust.
Why do I feel... uneasy? he thought, pushing himself to his feet. Did Amara find out sothing?
The thought hit like a bolt of panic.
Sebastian grabbed his coat, barely muttering a word to Elara.
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