Chapter 8 – Terms and Touch
323 Words
Back in the car, the silence felt heavier than the night air outside.
Streetlights streaked across the windshield, painting gold lines on Amara’s tired face. She kept her gaze fixed on the city rushing past, as though if she looked anywhere else, the truth between them might spill out.
Leon’s voice broke the quiet.
> “What are you really getting out of this, Amara?”
Her fingers tightened on her purse. She swallowed before answering.
> “Rent. Groceries. The ability to breathe for five minutes without feeling like the world’s about to crush me.”
He turned his head slightly toward her, eyes unreadable in the dim light.
> “And when this ends?”
That question landed deep. She let out a dry laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all.
> “Then I go back to pretending I’m okay.”
Leon’s jaw worked, like he wanted to argue but didn’t know how.
The hum of the engine filled the space between them until he reached out and, hesitantly, brushed his fingers against hers.
It wasn’t a full touch — just the ghost of one — but it made her pulse trip over itself.
> “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said quietly.
Amara turned to look at him, searching for the catch.
There was always a catch.
> “You’re paying me to be here, Leon. That’s the deal, remember?”
His eyes softened, but his voice stayed steady.
> “I remember. But some parts of this… aren’t in the contract.”
Her breath caught, and for the first time in days, she felt both seen and terrified. She turned back to the window before he could see the war on her face.
The rest of the ride passed in silence, but it wasn’t the same silence as before.
This one buzzed with words unsaid, with questions neither dared to voice — yet
- Writer
