4

"It’s been long since Amara visited us," Mother’s droning voice reached my ears, and I tuned her out as I scanned the room with my eyes before they landed on the dark piercing gaze of my father. He and mother were yet to know what happened to Amara and I was not sure how I’d tell them all this. "How is she doing?”

The spoon in my hand almost dropped. I quickly hid my anxiousness with an unbelievably othered face.

Amara.

I didn't know what I was doing here, I deserved the pain Amara went through, all the times I ignored her, and every fucking rude word I threw her way. The very anguish I made her go through, I deserved to suffer the way she did. No. Not suffer. But die.

I remembered the last time I held her in my arms. She was shaking and sobbing so hard, that she felt breakable and small. Last time. The thought squeezed my chest making me slip into darkness for a split second. I tried to ignore the memories suppressed, to continue how I was before her. Carefree. Pronoid. Not in love.

Even now, I could hear her screams. The tears streaming down her face. The wet cheeks and hateful eyes as I left her in the mansion that day. I lost her.

But now, it was too late to realise the wrongs I did to her.

Amara was promised to me when she was but five. At that time, I always viewed our betrothal as punishment. When we came of age, I realised there was no avoiding this. So I agreed despite being opposed to the idea.

When I turned eighteen, Amara was sixteen. By the time she was eighteen, I already was taking an interest in the outer world. Women. Riches. I started hating her for no reason, realising because of her I had to give up my desires just because I was her fiancé.

I hated how she always seemed like an innocent lamb ready to sacrifice. How she always pretended to be modest and clean. The gleam in her brown eyes whenever she looked at me like I was the centre of her world. Maybe I was. But for me, she was no more than a burnt cigarette.

The marriage was inevitable, and we got married. That day, that fucking day I vowed I’d never see her as my wife. It shamed me to even call her my wife—a dumb woman who wore long-sleeved nun dresses, who never raised her head to meet my gaze, who always pretended like a Virgin Mary in front of me. It disgusted me. It was all an act for me.

In these last two years, I never once treated her right. But now. Now everything has changed.

I clenched my jaw.

Before I knew it, my breathing was spontaneous to the point that I could not see anything but flashbacks of that day. Her cries, me throwing divorce papers on her face, her pleas, blood. If only I was careful enough that day. Large cold hands pressed against my back, someone said something in my ear but I couldn't hear anything. Her screams echoed in my ears. Her pleas.

‘S-Stop! Please!’

‘Please don’t leave me!’

‘I-It hurts!’

Why did I do that to her? Her tears might be lying, but her eyes couldn't lie. My Amara never lied. I needed to go to her. I need to apologise. I had to ask for her forgiveness. Would she forgive me? Would she?

I swallowed and my hand clutched the spoon tightly.

"Adrian?" Before I could dwell deeper into my thoughts, my vision was blocked by feminine hands on my wrist. I blinked as I tried to focus, but it seemed all in vain. The hand gently squeezed mine before I heard my mother’s concerned voice. “You do not look good, Adrian. Do you need me to call the doctor?”

"No…" I breathed out in exertion pushing the chair back followed by my father’s cold glare. My mother worriedly rushed to my side. I felt like my insides were burning.

Amara.

I suddenly regret leaving her with Rhys knowing full well what could happen in future. I practically once again pushed her away, but this time, my heart was hurting. I couldn’t think anymore. Fuck! I couldn’t feel anything except the void in my chest. I did not like her, not even a bit, so why do I feel pathetic knowing she might forget me forever?

I managed to stand on my wobbly legs and before I could take one step backward, I stumbled and the room started spinning. My eyes refused to remain open and I swayed from left to right.

"Relax..." a voice said, and I was gathered in someone's arms. Before I slipped into darkness, I saw the blurred face of a woman. Amara. Her almond eyes gazed upon me with a familiar, yet worried expression, a hint of furrowed brows that itched my fingers to rub that spot. My eyelids fluttered, I could see her face clearly- rose petal lips, irresistibly plump, and a face so elegantly sculpted, it could rival that of a goddess. Her cascade of lustrous hair swayed gracefully, while her sun-kissed skin radiated an otherworldly glow.

I tried to smile at her, assuring her I was okay. But her frown deepened and as I blinked one more time, her soft skin slowly started covering with wounds, blood dripping from her eyes instead of tears.

A chill ran down my spine. Amara?

I tried to reach her but she moved away, wearing a white sundress that slowly seemed covered with blood, her face covered with bloody red tears, her eyes hollow and a small cold smile on her face as she whispered.

"You lost me, Adrian." She raised her hand and placed it on her chest, a scream tore from my mouth as her nails dug into her chest and I tried to move as she laughed and looked down into my eyes while tearing the skin off her chest as the blood dripped down. She was hurting. I needed to stop her!

"Amara!"

"You killed me!" She yelled with a laugh as she ripped out her heart and squeezed it between her palms as blood pooled around her.

"Amara!” I yelled but it came out as a whimper. She slowly started drifting back, blurring away as I kept yelling and she crushed her heart between her palms with a glacial smile on her face. The surroundings changed and turned darker and darker. With each blink, my limbs relaxed and my eyes watered as I let myself slip into the alley of darkness.

****

Two days. Two days since Adrian left her with Rhys.

Amara swore she never felt this lonely in these two days. Though several people were coming in shifts during the day, she felt exceptionally lonely at night. There was a deep void in her heart that seemed to widen with each passing second. She missed Adrian.

And in the darkness of night, she’s once again thinking. Thinking of him. At this moment, when he was not with her. In the room where he left her alone. But what’s worse was the familiarity of the heartache.

Amara did not feel uncomfortable, but there was a sweet bitterness to this familiarity. Like she knew it from experience.

Tossing around the bed, she tried not to dwell deeper into the things and tried to close her eyes, but the sleep was nowhere near. Either she should stop taking naps in the afternoon or she should start taking sleeping pills.

And what was worse was this chilling breeze. The maid forgot to close the windows again. Amara pitied herself for not being able to get up and close them herself, but there was so much she could ask. Despite the blankets and plushiest, she still felt cold. The cold sensations traveled from her feet to her spine, making her shiver again.

The cold mixed with her thoughts, leaving her wide awake once again.

Her thoughts wandered to Rhys, whose room was just adjacent to hers. She contemplated if she should call him, but decided otherwise. It was past 1:00, and after what he had done for her, she didn’t want to be a burden to him.

Folding the blanket underneath her feet, she sat up and turned on the lamp. Grabbing the book she was reading a few hours ago, she opened the page with a small peony bookmark. A small smile unconsciously crept over her lips. There was something so endearing about the way the petals held themselves—tightly as in fists.

Amara wondered if they feared their brief opening. Just like her. Like she had been holding her memories in a tight grip, she feared the loosening of these remembrances.

Her smile dropped.

The memories….

Amara yelped at the sudden sound of the door opening with a squeak. Her heart leaped into her throat as she caught sight of the large figure entering the room. The light from the lamp cast shadows on his face, making his five-o-clock jaw more noticeable. The slanted greys of his pupils glimmered like black diamonds—captivating and deep.

“You’re not asleep?” Her heartbeat raced at his familiar voice. Rhys stepped in cutting through the darkness till he was under the sparkling rays of the light. Looking up she met his dark tanzanite eyes.

“Rhys...” she breathed out, her breath hitching as his eyes looked her over. There was an inexplicable depth to his gaze that she couldn't comprehend.

She hadn't seen him for the past two days until now. He did not visit her since Adrian left her here. Now that she was seeing him wearing his signature dark clothes and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his sleeves, it did something to her. Like her heart wanted to jump like a frog.

“I was not sleepy….” Amara cleared her throat averting her eyes from his intense gaze.

Rhys hummed observing her. Every emotion swirling in his eyes was replaced with coldness. He did not like how she broke the eye contact. He wanted to look at her. In her eyes. Through her eyes.

“How are you feeling now?” He asked. Amara hated the way she felt intimidated by him. How he always manages to captivate her with his voice only.

She lowered her head, letting her caramel hair create a curtain between them. She didn’t like the way he made her feel when he was just a foot away. Yet close enough that she could smell his cologne —something warm and woody.

“I am feeling good. Thank you for letting me stay here.” Rhys looked at her and watched as she involuntarily shivered.

Walking to the other side of the room, he stopped near the window with his back towards her. Amara admired how his broad shoulder covered most of the window, the fabric of his shirt stretching against the muscles. He was tall, taller than Adrian. Despite being brothers, Amara couldn’t see any similarities between them. Just like if one was fire, the other was ice. Flames and water.

“I hired a therapist for you. She’ll start working by tomorrow,” Rhys said with a straight face. His eyes glimmered, yet no emotion showed on his face. Hands clenching the edges of the window, staring at the distance. “If you need something else, tell Martha.” Rhys took a deep breath and closed the window before draping the curtains over it and turning around.

“Thanks...” sensing the heaviness of his gaze, she tried to ignore the sensations despite her heart beating rapidly and focused on the book. Though she hardly could see what I wrote with her blurred vision and unfocused thoughts. All she was aware of was his presence.

Rhys glanced at her once more, making sure she was comfortable. He walked to the door.

“When will…Adrian visit?” Amara hesitated when he was about to open the door. Rhys clenched his jaw tight. Though his expressions were hard to read, she could feel a sudden gloom in the aura.

"Soon..." he mumbled, leaving her confused if he even answered her. The silence was deafening.

She frowned, leaning against the bed rest.

Her eyes flickered to the ceiling, and a heavy sigh left her lips. It was a starry night outside, sparkling yet dark, fascinating.

And then she glanced at the door as Rhys walked out.

****