Until My Last Breath

Chapter 3 – Unwelcome Sparks

Amara balanced a stack of reports in her arms as she hurried down the corridor. The elevator doors were about to close, and she quickened her steps, slipping inside at the last second. Papers nearly spilled from her grip, but a steady hand reached out to help.

“Careful there,” Lorenzo said, effortlessly taking half the stack.

Amara froze. Of course. Him again.

“Thanks,” she muttered, straightening the papers. She focused on the glowing numbers above the elevator doors, anything but his eyes.

“No problem,” he replied casually, leaning against the wall as though the small metal box belonged to him. Silence followed, but not the kind that was empty—this one thrummed with an energy Amara felt in her chest.

The elevator jolted slightly. Amara shifted. Lorenzo glanced sideways, his lips curving into that easy smile again. “So, Amara… You’ve worked here long?”

“Yes,” she said, a little too quickly. “Five years.”

“Impressive. Most people I’ve met say they’re dying to leave after two.”

That earned him the tiniest laugh, one she hadn’t realized escaped her. It felt strange—laughter that wasn’t forced, but light and unguarded.

When the doors opened, Lorenzo handed back the papers. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he said, and walked away, leaving Amara standing in the hallway with a heart beating faster than it should.

That evening, Amara sat across from Jerome at the dinner table. He picked at his food absentmindedly, his appetite fading like the color from his cheeks.

“Is everything okay?” she asked softly.

Jerome looked up, startled, as if caught in a thought he didn’t want to share. “Yeah. Just tired. Long day.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Amara nodded, though worry pressed against her chest. She wanted to believe him. She always had. Yet lately, there was a distance between them she couldn’t bridge—like a shadow creeping in, growing larger each day.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. A work group message. Lorenzo’s name flashed once, among others, and disappeared. She ignored it quickly, guilt prickling her skin.

She told herself it meant nothing. She had Jerome. She loved Jerome.

But that night, as she lay beside him in bed, listening to the rhythm of his breathing, it was the stranger’s voice in the elevator that kept replaying in her mind.