CHAPTER 4
Rafael sat at the head of the long dining table, silver spoon poised halfway to his lips, his expression carved from stone, the same unreadable mask he had worn for years.
Crystal chandeliers spilled warm golden light across polished mahogany, across plates of untouched food, across faces that belonged to blood and legacy. Yet none of it reached him.
None of it mattered.
“It’s been long since Amara visited us.”
His mother’s voice drifted through the room like background noise, but to Rafael it sounded distant… muffled… as though he were sinking underwater. His fingers tightened around the spoon.
Across the table, his father’s dark, piercing gaze remained fixed on him. The old man knew something was wrong.
Rafael avoided his eyes.
Neither of them knew.
Neither of them knew what happened to Amara. And Rafael had no idea how he would ever tell them.
“How is she doing?”
The spoon nearly slipped from his fingers.
His breath caught violently in his throat.
Amara.
Even hearing her name felt like someone had reached into his chest and wrapped icy fingers around his heart.
For a moment, the room blurred.
He quickly lowered his gaze, forcing his features into practiced indifference, though his pulse thundered so violently he was sure everyone could hear it.
Amara.
What the hell was he even doing here?
Sitting.
Eating.
Breathing.
When she—
No.
He clenched his jaw so hard pain shot through his skull.
He deserved every ounce of pain clawing through him.
Every harsh word he had ever thrown at her.
Every cruel glance.
Every time he had ignored her trembling voice.
Every tear he had pretended not to see.
He deserved worse.
Not pain.
Death.
His grip on the spoon tightened until his knuckles turned white.
And suddenly, he was back there. Back in that room. Back in that moment.
Amara trembling in his arms.
So small.
So fragile.
So fucking breakable.
Her sobs had wrecked her tiny body, shaking her so violently that Rafael had been terrified she would shatter into pieces right there in his hands.
His chest tightened painfully. Last time.
That was the last time he had held her. The realization hit him so hard his vision darkened for a split second.
He inhaled sharply, forcing air into lungs that suddenly refused to work.
No.
No.
He couldn’t think about that.
He couldn’t, but memories were cruel things. They came anyway. Her screams. Her tears. The wetness of her cheeks. Those hateful, broken eyes staring at him as he walked away from her that day.
God.
He had lost her.
And now…
Now it was too late.
Rafael swallowed hard, his throat burning.
Amara had been promised to him since childhood.
Five years old.
That was how young she’d been. And Rafael? He had always viewed their engagement as a curse. A prison. A punishment. By the time they came of age, there had been no escaping it. So he agreed. Because duty demanded it. Because family demanded it. Because men like him did not get choices.
When he turned eighteen, Amara had been sixteen.
By the time she turned eighteen… Rafael had discovered the world beyond duty.
Women.
Pleasure.
Freedom.
Temptation.
And somehow…
He began hating her.
For existing.
For being the chain around his neck.
For being the reason, he had to give up everything he thought he wanted.
He hated her innocence.
Hated those warm brown eyes that looked at him as though he hung the moon.
Hated how modest she was.
How quiet.
How pure.
How she loved him with a devotion he had never asked for.
Maybe he had been her world.
But to him, she had been nothing. Less than nothing.
The memory made nausea rise violently in his throat. They got married. And on that day… he had sworn he would never see her as his wife. Never touch her. Never love her. Never…
A sharp pain exploded in his chest. Rafael’s breathing became uneven. His hands trembled.
Divorce papers flying across the room.
Amara’s horrified gasp.
Blood.
Her screams.
Stop! Please!
His hand jerked.
The spoon clattered loudly onto the plate.
Please don’t leave me!
Rafael’s entire body went rigid.
It hurts!
His breathing turned ragged.
“Rafael?”
Someone was talking to him.
Someone touched his wrist.
He blinked, struggling to focus. Her worried face swam before him.
“You don’t look well,” she whispered. “Should I call the doctor?”
“No…” He shoved his chair back so abruptly it scraped violently against marble.
He wanted… he needed Amara.
He needed to see her.
Needed to apologize.
Needed…
Would she forgive him?
Could she?
He pushed himself to his feet.
His legs wobbled instantly.
The room spun.
Walls tilted.
Voices became distant.
“Relax…”
Strong arms caught him before he hit the floor.
Darkness began swallowing his vision.
Two days. Two days since Rafael left her with Kaelith.
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 Rafael.
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 plushies, 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 Kaelith, whose room was just adjacent to hers. She contemplated if she should call him, but decided otherwise. It was past one in the night, 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. Kaelith stepped in cutting through the darkness till he was under the sparkling rays of the light. Looking up she met his dark tanzanite eyes.
“Kaelith…” 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 Rafael 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.
Kaelith 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 managed 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.
“I am good. Thank you for letting me stay here.” Kaelith 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 toward 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 Rafael.
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,” Kaelith 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.”
Kaelith 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 she wrote with her blurred vision and unfocused thoughts. All she was aware of was his presence.
Kaelith glanced at her once more, making sure she was comfortable. He walked to the door.
“When will Rafael visit?” Amara hesitated when he was about to open the door. Kaelith’s jaw clenched. 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 Kaelith walked out.
◆◆◆