Chapter 162

Chapter 162: Chapter 162

Amara flinched when the damp cotton wool pressed against the raw sting of her cheek. She bit her lower lip, her eyes narrowing at her own reflection in the mirror.

The lady staring back at her looked tired with her skin puffy under the eyes. There was a faint bruise darkening on one side of her face.

The slap still hurts, but she doesn’t regret what happened between herself and Theresa. She would have done more, if given the chance.

She sighed, dropped the used cotton into the bowl of water, and reached for her chips instead.

She picked one from it, and ate it. The crunch filled the silence of her room. She chewed slowly, almost deliberately, before reaching for her moisturizer.

Her phone buzzed against the table.

Amara’s eyes flickered down.

There was no name attached with the caller ID. Just a number.

She scoffed under her breath, rolling her eyes as she wiped her fingers on a tissue. Probably a wrong dial. Or some random stranger who’d get the sharp edge of her tongue if they didn’t hang up quick enough.

It was even a face time. She grunted, and picked up. Without much thought, she swiped the screen and placed it before her.

"Hello?"

The video screen lit, and her breath stilled.

It wasn’t a stranger.

Elias’s face filled the screen.

His eyes, sharp, dark, and alive with something she didn’t want to name, looked straight at her. He didn’t speak at first. He only stared, his jaw tense, like he’d been waiting for this one moment for days. His silence was heavy, and charged.

Her pulse jumped. Amara almost ended the call immediately. Almost.

"You blocked me." His voice was low, roughened with something raw. "So I had to find another way."

She blinked, scoffing again, but this time it sounded forced. "You’re desperate."

"Yes," he admitted without shame. "I am shameless and desperate. Is that what you want to hear?"

His eyes drifted to her cheek, where the faint swelling was still visible. His voice sharpened instantly. "What happened to your face?"

Amara froze, then gave a short, bitter laugh. "Nothing."

"Amara—"

She didn’t let him finish. "Don’t pretend like you care."

Her thumb slammed the screen, cutting him off.

The room was quiet again. She inhaled sharply, pressing her lips together, as if holding something back.

Her phone buzzed once more. The same unknown number. She pushed it aside without looking.

.......

An hour later, the sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the steady rain outside.

Amara stiffened, glancing toward the door. She walked closer, the sound of the storm growing louder with every step. "Who’s there?" she called, her hand hovering above the door knob.

A beat of silence replied to her. Then his voice, low, familiar, and far too steady for a man standing in the downpour answered.

"Amara."

Her heart jolted, but her arms crossed instantly over her chest. Her tone became sharp to cover the tremor. "Go home, Elias. It’s pouring, and I’m not letting you in."

"Just open the door."

She scoffed, pressing her shoulder against the frame. "Why are you here?"

"You hung up on me," he said simply, as though that explained everything. "So I figured... maybe you wanted to see me in person instead." He paused, and drew in a long breath. "I’m freezing out here, Amara."

Amara scoffed, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. "I didn’t ’want to see you.’ I wanted you gone. There’s a difference."

Rain pelted harder against the roof, each drop echoing the silence between them. Elias shifted on the other side, his voice muffled but steady.

"You can hate me all you want," he said, his voice low and rough. "Just don’t shut me out like this."

Loving her was suicide. However, he saw himself running to her with every chance he has. This was so different from the life he wanted. Now, he doesn’t want that life anymore.

He doesn’t know how to get her off his mind. She makes hell a paradise. He knew he was addicted, and needed to fix this.

Her fingers twitched against the doorknob. "I don’t owe you anything, Elias."

"No," he admitted, his breath fogging against the cold. "But I owe you everything. And I can’t—" his words broke, then steadied. "I can’t stand knowing you’re hurt and I wasn’t there."

"What?" Her eyes narrowed.

"I saw a bruise on your cheek when I called you earlier," he replied immediately, to wash off every suspicion.

Her jaw tightened. "You don’t even know what happened."

"Then let me in," he pressed, his voice sharper now. "Let me see for myself."

Amara’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. She hated that her heart lurched at the thought of him standing there, drenched, and stubborn as ever. She hated that part of her wanted to pull the door open.

Instead, she whispered, "Go home, Elias. Before you catch your death out there."

Only the rain answered.

Then, quietly, he said, "Maybe I already have."

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t move. She stayed rooted, gripping the door with trembling fingers, fighting herself more than him.

Amara pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door, eyes squeezed shut. She wanted to scream at him to leave. She wanted to stay in control, but his voice was low, raw, and steady even in desperation. His voice shook her resolve.

She cursed under her breath and yanked the door open.

Rain rushed in with the wind. Elias stood there, soaked through, with water dripping from his hair, and his shirt clinging to his frame. His lips were pale, but his eyes, those storm-dark eyes, were burning, and locked on her.

"I told you not to come," she snapped, het arms folding tightly across her chest.

"And I told you I can’t stay away." His voice cracked, not from the cold but from the weight in it. He stepped inside, dripping on her floor, but she didn’t stop him. "I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried to keep my distance, to respect what you want. But a week without hearing your voice..." His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling. "It feels like hell, Amara."

She swallowed hard, her anger trembling with something dangerously close to longing. "Fucking shut up. You don’t get to show up here, drenched and desperate, like... like you’re the one hurting."

"I am hurting!" Elias’s voice lifted, sharper than she’d ever heard, but his eyes softened instantly, as though afraid to frighten her. He moved a step closer, dripping water with every motion. "Every bruise on your face feels like it’s on mine. Every time you push me away, it tears me apart. And I’ve let you because I thought maybe you’d be safer without me." His hand hovered in the air, not daring to touch her cheek. "But I can’t pretend anymore. I’m done pretending."

Her lips parted, but no words came.