Chapter 6
Elias’s phone slipped from his grip as he slammed it down onto the living room table with a sharp, angry force. The sound echoed through the quiet space.
His chest rose and fell heavily as frustration tightened his jaw. Without thinking, his hand flew up to his face, fingers gripping the frame of his glasses. He yanked them off roughly in one motion and flung them toward the nearby table.
The glasses hit the edge, slid sideways, and dropped straight to the floor. The frame twisted on impact, one lens popping out and sliding a few inches across the polished surface.
“Goddammit,” he cursed under his breath, voice sharp with irritation.
He stepped forward quickly, crouching down as he grabbed the broken frame. His fingers turned it over once, twice, trying to fit the lens back in. He pressed carefully at first—then harder.
The lens refused to sit. It kept slipping out with every attempt.
A frustrated breath escaped him.
Straightening again, he turned sharply and dropped onto the couch.
For a moment, he just stared ahead, jaw tight, before grabbing his phone again. His thumb moved quickly as he searched for repair instructions, scrolling with impatient, jerky movements.
He found a guide.
His eyes narrowed as he read, leaning forward slightly, one elbow resting on his knee.
'Hold the frame steady… carefully insert the lens back into place with controlled pressure.” he muttered under his breath, following along. “Easy enough.”
He tried. One hand gripped the frame tightly while the other attempted to push the lens back into place with careful pressure.
The lens slipped out instantly.
“Seriously?” he muttered, exhaling through his nose.
He tried again—same result.
A frustrated breath left his nose as he rubbed his temple, gripping the broken glasses tighter before looking back at the instructions. His eyes moved down to the second option.
His brows furrowed as he leaned closer, reading more carefully now.
‘If the first method fails… we strongly recommend holding your wife’s hand and engaging in excessive romantic activities until we deliver your replacement glasses within twenty-four hours.’
Silence.
For a full second, Elias just stared at the screen.
Then—
“What the fuck?”
His voice snapped through the room as he jerked upright.
He slammed the broken glasses down onto the table and pushed himself to his feet, pacing once with sharp, agitated steps.
“What wife?” he muttered harshly. “She ran away the second she got the chance.”
His gaze drifted—and landed on his and Amara’s wedding photo on the side table.
In the picture, Amara stood beside him on the wedding stage, holding onto his arm gently, both of them smiling in a way that felt like it belonged to another lifetime.
His expression shifted—just slightly. The anger didn’t vanish, but it dulled for a fraction of a second.
He looked away.
A slow breath left him as he turned and walked toward the side table.
Opening a drawer, he pulled out a box of contact lenses. His movements were controlled again, but less steady now. He set the broken glasses aside and tore open the solution bottle.
That was when the front door clicked open.
Elias froze mid-motion.
His head snapped toward the entrance as he watched Amara step inside before walking straight toward him in the living room.
Her eyes landed on the broken glasses on the table… then on the contact lenses in his hand.
“What’s the use of these?” she asked lightly, glancing at the broken glasses in his hand. “You can’t see anything properly with or without them, Mr. Creed.”
Elias’s expression darkened immediately.
He turned his face away with a sharp scoff, irritation flashing across his features as he tossed the broken glasses onto the table harder than necessary. The frame hit the wood with a loud clack.
“Where were you?” he demanded, pushing to his feet and striding toward her. His gaze locked onto her face, sharp and accusing. “After the funeral, where did you disappear to?”
Amara walked past him like she hadn’t heard the tension in his voice at all. Calmly, she slipped off her coat and draped it over the couch.
“Why?” she asked lightly. “Did you forget we’re divorcing?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, completely unbothered.
“I didn’t realize I still had to submit daily reports about my whereabouts to you.”
Then after a small pause, she added lazily—
“Besides, I was thinking about finding a new man to live with.”
Elias went still.
Then he let out a short, disbelieving laugh that sounded one second away from a homicide charge.
“Oh, really?”
He bent down, snatching up the contact lens case from the table. Squinting with one blurry eye, he tried to put the lens in while still glaring at her.
“I’m not giving you this house,” he muttered coldly. “This place is not turning into some disgusting little love nest for you and whatever idiot you drag home.”
Amara let out a soft laugh.
“Relax. I don’t want this house.” Her eyes slowly swept over him from head to toe. “I’m not interested in keeping old, used things.”
The silence that followed was deadly.
Elias’s jaw flexed.
“Careful,” he warned darkly. “You’re getting a little too brave for someone who—”
He suddenly stopped.
The contact solution missed.
A sharp sting shot straight into his eye.
“Fuck—!”
He recoiled instantly, hissing through his teeth as his hand flew to his face. Instead of helping, rubbing it only made the burning worse.
And then, somehow, things got worse.
The other contact lens slipped from his fingers.
Both of them watched it disappear into the carpet.
Elias stared downward.
Then very slowly—
“You have got to be kidding me.”
He dropped to his knees immediately, one hand pressing against the carpet while the other searched blindly.
“Where the hell did it go?” he muttered furiously.
Amara stood above him with her arms folded across her chest, watching the great Elias Creed crawl around on the floor looking for a transparent circle smaller than the tip of his finger.
She tilted her head.
“It’s midnight. Maybe you should give up, go to sleep, and let me go back to my place in peace.”
“Can you keep quiet for one goddamn second?” Elias snapped.
Still kneeling on the floor, he patted around the carpet with growing violence. One eye was squeezed shut from the burning while the other narrowed furiously in her direction.
“And you are not leaving,” he added sharply. “What nonsense are you even saying?”
He pointed vaguely toward her. “Say one more word and I’m locking every door in this house.”
Amara stared at him for a long second.
Then her lips twitched.
“You’re threatening me,” she said carefully, trying very hard not to laugh, “while crawling on the floor half blind?”
Elias lifted his head.
Even kneeling there in wrinkled clothes with one burning eye and the dignity of a defeated raccoon, the glare he shot her was still dangerous.
“Amara,” he warned in a low voice.
But the next second, he winced hard.
“Fuck—!”
The irritation in his eye had clearly gotten worse. His hand pressed against it instinctively, frustration written all over his face.
Amara’s teasing expression softened slightly.
With a sigh, she finally pushed herself off the wall and walked toward him.
“Okay, enough.”
She bent down and grabbed his arm before he could argue again.
“Come on,” she muttered. “I will help you.”
He didn’t resist as she helped him up and guided him into the bathroom attached to the bedroom.
The tiled space was cold, and quiet except for the soft sound of their footsteps. Amara positioned him carefully in front of the sink before stepping away.
“Stay here,” she said shortly.
Elias frowned faintly at the command, but before he could say anything, she had already disappeared back into the bedroom.
A moment later, she returned carrying the chair from the dressing table, dragging it across the floor with a soft scrape. She set it beside the sink and walked straight back to him.
“Sit.”
Her fingers curled around his wrist, tugging lightly.
Elias lowered himself onto the chair with obvious reluctance, broad shoulders stiff with irritation. Even half blind, there was still something arrogant about the way he sat there, jaw tight, expensive black shirt slightly undone at the collar.
Amara stepped between his knees without thinking much about it.
The moment she did, Elias went still.
Her hands came up to his face, cool palms framing his jaw as she tilted his head back gently.
“Don’t move,” she warned softly.
The scent of her perfume hit him immediately. Something light and feminine mixed with the faint warmth of her skin. Standing this close, he could feel the brush of her thigh against his knee every time she shifted.
Before he could react, she turned on the showerhead, adjusting the pressure carefully.
Cool water streamed over his face.
Elias hissed under his breath, flinching instinctively.
“What the hell—”
“You really can’t handle this much pain?” Amara asked calmly, though amusement flickered in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” he muttered immediately.
‘Stubborn bastard,’ Amara let out a quiet scoff and reached for the towel hanging nearby. She leaned closer to dab the water from his face carefully, her fingers brushing his damp skin.
Elias stopped paying attention to what she was doing after that.
All he could focus on was how close she was.
The soft pressure of her hand under his jaw. The warmth of her body standing between his legs. The way a few loose strands of hair had fallen beside her cheek while she concentrated.
His gaze dropped unconsciously to her mouth.
His throat tightened.
It had been a long time since she touched him this gently. Without anger. Without coldness.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because suddenly every tiny thing felt dangerous.
Amara continued wiping the water from the corner of his eye, completely unaware of the shift in him.
Elias’s hand moved before he even thought about it.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist suddenly.
Amara paused.