Chapter 4: The Ghost We Carry.
837 Words
Amara dropped her handbag by the couch, kicked off her heels, and sank into her bed without a word. The apartment was silent—just the low hum of the city beyond her high-rise window. Her phone buzzed. Missed call—Mom.
She picked it up and dialed back.
“Amara, darling!” her mother’s smiling face appeared on the screen. The call connected from abroad, her mom’s eyes bright despite the time difference.
“Mama,” Amara smiled, trying to keep her tone cheerful.
“How did it go?”
“I got the job,” Amara said, her voice soft.
Her mother gasped, clapping. “I knew you would! You’ve worked so hard. I’m so proud of you.”
They talked for a while—about work, her new apartment, how her mother was doing in Italy. Amara left out the most important detail.
She didn’t tell her mother she had met Damon Wu.
She didn’t mention that her CEO was the boy she’d once tried to forget.
After the call ended, Amara wandered into the kitchen. She poured herself a chilled drink and ordered takeout. Her stomach growled from the long day. While waiting, she returned to the plush sofa in her living room. The television played a news segment, but she didn’t really see it.
Her mind was spinning.
Why was she in Damon’s department?
Why did he look at her that way?
Was he really convinced she wasn’t the same Amara from five years ago?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. Food.
She opened the door and collected her order, thanking the delivery guy. Just as she turned to re-enter, she saw someone struggling with a stack of boxes near the elevator.
Her neighbor.
Without thinking, she hurried to help.
“Need a hand?”
He looked up, smiled. “I won’t say no.”
After assisting him into his apartment, he glanced at her.
“So, how did it go today?”
“I got accepted,” she replied, brushing her hair back.
“Well then,” he grinned. “I have alcohol for emergencies like this.”
Amara chuckled. “Is this your way of saying ‘congrats’?”
He smirked. “You know it.”
They clinked glasses in celebration.
They’d first met weeks ago. Back when she had just returned from abroad, Amara was still in a hotel, searching for somewhere to rent. It was during a late afternoon stroll that she’d paused in front of a building’s rental poster. Her head down, focused on the number, she hadn’t noticed the man approaching.
“Are you okay?” he’d asked, startling her.
“You startled me,” she replied, looking up.
He was handsome, with soft but strong features.
“I’m fine. I’m just calling about this listing.”
“There’s a better vacancy I know inside,” he offered.
At first, she’d hesitated. But something about his tone—friendly, grounded—put her at ease.
He took her upstairs, showing her a vacant apartment. It was tastefully done, spacious, modern. The kitchen was sleek, the bedroom warm, the rooftop veranda elegant.
“I love it,” she breathed.
“I’ll give you the landlord’s number,” he smiled.
Before he left, she asked for his own contact. He blinked in surprise.
She laughed. “No, it’s not like that. You helped me—I owe you lunch at least.”
He smiled and gave it. She dialed him. He watched her number flash on his phone.
“Good luck,” he’d said before leaving.
She didn’t look away until he disappeared.
Back at the hotel, she called the landlord’s number. A woman answered.
“My father isn’t around. Call next month,” she said coldly.
“Next month?”
Amara begged. “I need this place now.”
The woman hesitated, then said, “If you want the apartment, you’ll have to wire $1.5 million tomorrow.”
“$15,000?!” Amara gasped.
Still, she agreed to meet the next day.
At the building, a stunning young woman waited.
Amara dialed the number, watching as the woman answered.
“You must be here for the apartment,” the woman said, smiling.
Amara admired her—tall, elegant, polished. She gave her beauty a mental 89% score. Flawless makeup, smooth hair, designer perfume.
Just as Amara was about to transfer the money, the man from yesterday appeared from the elevator.
He froze. So did the woman.
They looked at each other.
“You two know each other?” Amara asked.
“She’s my sister,” the man said.
Amara blinked.
The woman smiled, pocketing her phone. “Thanks.”
“I told you not to scam anyone again,” he hissed.
“She already paid.”
The woman tossed Amara the keys.
“Babe—” the man started.
“Babe?” Amara’s heart dropped.
Wait—were they… dating? Was this a con?
She watched the interaction, confusion crawling across her face.
[End Of Chapter 4]
- Writer
