The rain tapped gently against the windowpane, each drop echoing like a heartbeat in the silence of Amara's room. She sat motionless, legs curled beneath her on the armchair, the silk robe clinging to her damp skin. Her eyes, red and swollen, remained fixed on the doorway—half-expecting him to return, half-praying he wouldn't. How many times had she told herself this is the last time? And yet, every time Damian touched her, all logic dissolved into heat. The lines between right and wrong blurred in the fire of his gaze, in the way he whispered her name like it was a secret only he knew. Last night had been no different. No—it had been worse.
Hours passed, but time had lost meaning. Memories from last night played over and over in her head—the way his fingertips danced down her spine, the tremble in his voice when he said, "I need you," like it meant more than lust.
She had wanted to believe him.
Even though everything in her warned not to.
"Fool," she whispered to herself.
Her phone vibrated on the floor where she had thrown it earlier. Another message.
"Can we talk?"
She didn't respond.
Because talking was easy. Apologies were easy.But the pain—oh, the pain—was what stayed.
Downstairs, a knock echoed from the front door.
She stayed still.
Another knock.
Then came the voice she had sworn she'd ignore.
"Amara, I'm not leaving until you open this door."
She closed her eyes. A thousand emotions swelled in her chest. Love. Anger. Longing. Fear.
Eventually, her feet carried her forward, against her will. Her hand trembled as she turned the knob.
And there he was. Damian.
Soaking wet from the rain. Eyes tired. Lips parted like he had rehearsed the right words but forgot them at the sight of her.
She stood in the doorway, unmoving.
"I messed up," he said. "Again."
She gave a small, bitter laugh. "That's your favorite line, isn't it?"
"I didn't know how to stay," he said, stepping closer. "But being without you… hurts worse." She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw it. The pain. The same kind that haunted her."I don't want to be your escape, Damian. I want to be your choice."He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he cupped her cheek, gently, like she might shatter if he held her too tightly."You are my pain," he whispered. "And my pleasure. My weakness and my home."Tears welled in her eyes. Not because of what he said—but because she still wanted to believe him."You are my pain," he whispered. "And my pleasure. My weakness and my home."Tears welled in her eyes. Not because of what he said—but because she still wanted to believe him.They stood in silence, the storm still raging outside.And for once, it mirrored the storm within her.Because loving him was like fire—beautiful, warm… and destructive.And tonight, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be saved or burned.