Chapter 17
POV: Amber?
I pulled back just enough to breathe.
Just enough to look at him.
My hands were still gripping his shirt, like letting go wasn’t an option my body understood yet. My forehead brushed his chin as I tilted my face up, my vision still blurred with tears.
“I loved her,” I whispered again, like it still mattered. Like I still needed him to believe it.
His hand came up, slow, careful, cupping the side of my face like I might break under too much pressure.
“I know you did.”
My lips trembled.
“I needed her to know that.”
His gaze softened—God, it softened in a way that hurt.
“She did.”
I shook my head immediately. “You don’t know that—”
“I do,” he said, firmer now. Not harsh. Not cold. Just… certain.
My breath caught.
“She knew you loved her,” he continued, his thumb brushing under my eye, catching a tear before it could fall. “And she knew you loved me.”
My fingers tightened in his shirt.
“And she loved you for it,” he added, his voice breaking just slightly. “She loved you like you were already hers.”
Something inside me cracked open again.
I swallowed hard, my chest aching, my hand instinctively flattening against his chest—right over his heart—like I needed to feel it. Like I needed to make sure he was real.
Like all of this was real.
He covered my hand with his.
Held it there.
And then—slowly—he stepped back.
Just enough to reach into his pocket.
My brows pulled together, confusion mixing with the remnants of grief still drowning me.
“Alexander…?”
He didn’t answer right away.
His hand came back out.
And in it—
A ring.
My breath stopped.
Completely.
The world narrowed down to that small, fragile thing resting in his palm.
The diamond caught the light, soft and quiet—but it didn’t need to shine to be seen.
Because I felt it.
The weight of it.
The meaning of it.
“This was my mom’s,” he said, his voice lower now. Rougher. Like every word had to fight its way out of him.
I couldn’t look away.
“She gave it to me before she…” His jaw tightened. He swallowed. Tried again. “Before she died.”
My heart twisted so hard it hurt.
“She told me to give it to the girl who had my heart.” His eyes lifted to mine, steady, intense, wrecked. “To the one who would take care of me.”
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
“And we both knew who that was,” he said.
My chest rose sharply.
“She knew it too.” His voice softened, but it didn’t lose its strength. “She always knew.”
Tears burned my eyes again.
“She loved you like a daughter, Amber,” he said, stepping closer. “She used to tell me that all the time.”
My hand trembled in his.
“She said that one day…” His voice faltered, just for a second. “One day, you would be hers too.”
A sob climbed up my throat, and I had to bite it back.
“I was going to give this to you,” he continued, his grip tightening around the ring like it was the only thing grounding him. “That was always the plan.”
I shook my head faintly, overwhelmed, barely holding on to the moment.
“I was going to wait until she got better,” he said. “And then I would go to you. I would tell you everything. I would ask you to marry me, and I would follow you to Stanford.”
My breath hitched.
“I didn’t care about anything else,” he admitted. “Not the job, not the city, not where I had to be. I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I just wanted you.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent now.
“But she didn’t get better,” he said.
The words landed heavy between us.
“And I lost you anyway.”
Silence.
Raw. Open. Bleeding.
“I told myself I would come back for you when I had something to offer,” he continued. “When I wasn’t just a scared kid trying to survive.”
His eyes held mine, unflinching.
“So I waited.”
My chest tightened.
“I built something. I became someone.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “And every step of the way, I told myself it was leading me back to you.”
My fingers curled slightly against his chest again.
“But when I got there…” A bitter breath left him. “You were already living your life. Law school. Your future. Everything you were meant to have.”
Pain flickered across his face.
“So I waited again.”
Twelve years.
I felt them between us.
Every second of them.
“And then this project came up,” he said. “Breathing Room.”
My heart skipped.
“I didn’t even think.” A faint, broken smile ghosted his lips. “I just knew I had to take it.”
Because of me.
“Because of you,” he said, like he heard the thought.
My throat closed.
“And when I saw you again…” His voice dropped, softer now. “I knew I was done waiting.”
My pulse thundered in my ears.
“This ring—” He lifted it slightly between us. “It was always meant to be yours.”
My breath came out uneven.
“Always.”
The word settled deep.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
Hopeful.
“And it still is,” he added.
My heart stuttered.
His gaze searched mine—not demanding.
Not pushing.
Just… there.
Open.
“If you wear it,” he said slowly, “or if you don’t…”
My chest tightened.
“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s yours.”
A tear slipped free.
“I don’t need an answer right now,” he said, softer this time. “I don’t even deserve one”
His voice almost broke on that.
“But I needed you to know.”
Silence wrapped around us again.
Thick.
Shaking.
Alive.
And I stood there, staring at the ring… at him… at everything we had lost—
And everything that was still there.
Unfinished.
I don’t remember deciding to take the ring.
One second it’s in his hand, catching the light like something fragile, something sacred…
and the next, it’s in mine.
Heavy.
Not because of the diamond.
Because of everything it carries.
His mother.
His love.
Twelve years of silence.
Every version of us that never got to exist.
My fingers curl around it instinctively, like if I don’t hold it tight enough, it might disappear. Like this—him—might disappear again.
“Amber…” His voice is wrecked. Careful. Like he’s afraid to breathe too loud and break whatever this is.
I shake my head, my chest too tight, too full.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t answer this right now.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods immediately. No hesitation. No pressure.
“Okay.”
Just that.
Okay.
God, he’s always been like this. When it matters, when it’s real—he doesn’t push. He waits.
And that almost makes it worse.
“I love you,” I say, because that part—there’s no confusion there. There never was.
His eyes close for a second, like the words hit him somewhere deep.
“I know,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”
But loving him… and trusting him again…
Those are not the same thing.
I step closer anyway.
Because my body doesn’t care about logic. Because my heart is still his, whether I like it or not.
My hands find his shirt, curling into the fabric, and I pull him down into a kiss.
It’s not desperate like before.
It’s not explosive.
It’s… aching.
Slow. Deep. Lingering.
Like we’re trying to memorize each other all over again.
His hands come to my face, holding me like something precious, like something he almost lost—again.
And maybe he did.
When we break apart, my forehead rests against his.
“I need time,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“And I mean it, Xander. Not hours. Not a day.”
“I know,” he repeats, softer this time.
There’s no anger. No frustration.
Just… acceptance.
That scares me more than anything.
The rest of the day feels surreal.
Like I’m living two lives at the same time.
In one, I’m Amber—the professional, composed, sharp. I talk to engineers, review measurements, discuss timelines. I nod, I lead, I decide.
In the other…
I feel his presence like a second heartbeat.
Always there.
We don’t touch again. Not really.
Not like before.
But every glance lingers too long.
Every word carries something unsaid.
And the ring stays in my pocket.
I feel it every time I move.
The flight back is quieter.
Softer.
He doesn’t push. Doesn’t bring it up.
He lets me exist in my thoughts.
And somehow, that makes everything louder.
At the airport, when we land… it hits.
This is it.
For now.
He walks me to the car waiting for me, his hands in his pockets like he’s holding himself back from reaching for me.
“Text me when you get home,” he says.
Not call. Not come with me. Not stay.
Just that.
I nod.
“I will.”
A beat.
“I’ll… reach out,” I add. “When I’m ready.”
His throat moves as he swallows.
“I’ll be here.”
Of course he will.
That’s the problem.
He’s always been there.
Even when I thought he wasn’t.
I step closer, rising on my toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
Not enough. Never enough.
But all I can give right now.
“Bye, Xander.”
“Bye, Amber.”
And then I get in the car before I can change my mind.
***
Back home, everything feels… too normal.
Too quiet.
Like the world didn’t just crack open and rearrange itself.
I drop my bag by the door, kick off my shoes, and walk straight to my desk.
Because if I stop—if I let myself feel everything all at once—I might drown in it.
My notebook is where I left it.
Open. Waiting.
I sit down slowly, pulling the ring from my pocket and placing it on the page.
It glints under the light.
A promise.
A question.
A future I don’t know if I’m brave enough to choose.
My fingers hover over it for a second before I pick up my pen.
For a long moment, I just… stare.
Then I start writing.
Not a plan. Not a strategy.
Just the truth.
And somewhere between the lines, between the fear and the anger and the love that never really left…
I make a decision.