For The Pain You Caused

Three Years Ago

CHAPTER TWO

Three Years Ago

Three years ago, I believed people meant what they said.

I know better now.

My apartment was quiet when I got home.

Too quiet.

The kind of silence that doesn't comfort you. The kind that waits.

I dropped my keys into the small ceramic bowl beside the door and stood there for a moment, staring at nothing.

The heels came off next.

One after the other.

I had barely taken three steps toward the living room when my phone vibrated inside my handbag.

I already knew who it was.

I didn't check.

I walked past the sofa, past the glass coffee table, and into the kitchen.

My apartment wasn't big, but it was mine.

Every piece of furniture had been chosen by me. Every painting. Every curtain. Every little detail.

There was something comforting about living in a place where nobody had ever told me what I was supposed to be.

I opened the refrigerator and stared inside without actually seeing anything.

I wasn't hungry.

I wasn't thirsty.

I was angry.

And somehow, anger always made me feel twenty years older.

My phone vibrated again.

Then again.

I finally pulled it out.

Damian Cole.

Three missed calls.

One message.

I stared at his name until the screen went dark.

Then I unlocked it.

Damian: Please don't ignore me.

I laughed.

It wasn't a happy laugh.

It was the kind that escaped when something hurt so badly that crying felt too obvious.

I typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Deleted that too.

Finally, I locked the phone.

No reply.

Not tonight.

I walked into my bedroom and changed out of the dress I'd worn to the event. I pulled on an oversized T-shirt and shorts, tied my hair up, and washed the makeup from my face.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.

Three years ago, I would have been crying by now.

Three years ago, I would have called him.

I would have asked why.

I would have begged him to explain.

I would have convinced myself that there had to be a misunderstanding.

I would have blamed myself.

I had done all of those things.

Once.

Never again.

I turned away from the mirror.

My phone vibrated.

This time, I didn't need to look.

"You're really going to ignore him?"

I froze.

Then I slowly turned around.

Nia stood in my doorway with her arms crossed.

I hadn't even heard her come in.

What are you doing here?

Nice to see you too.

Nia.

She rolled her eyes and walked inside.

My older sister had a talent for entering people's lives like she owned the building.

She picked up the phone from my bed and looked at the screen.

Her expression changed immediately.

He's calling again.

I can see that.

Then answer.

No.

Amara.

No.

She stared at me for a few seconds.

Then she placed the phone back on the bed.

What did he say?

Nothing.

That's not what I asked.

I sighed.

He said I shouldn't ignore him.

Nia's lips pressed into a thin line.

After three years?

Apparently.

She shook her head.

I knew this would happen.

What would happen?

The moment he saw you again.

I didn't answer.

She sat on the edge of my bed.

You know what bothers me?

I looked at her.

Everything about tonight?

Besides that.

She paused.

He looked at you like he still had a right to.

Something inside my chest tightened.

Because I had noticed it too.

That look.

The familiarity.

The confidence.

The way Damian had stood in front of me as though the years between us were nothing more than a long weekend.

As though he could simply walk back into my life because he had finally decided he wanted to.

He doesn't have a right to anything, I said.

Nia nodded.

Good.

She leaned back.

Because if you start feeling sorry for that man, I'll personally remind you why you hated him.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

Nia said, I'm serious.

I know.

Do you?

I looked away.

She watched me carefully.

You still love him.

The room went silent.

I hated her for saying it.

Mostly because I didn't know how to prove her wrong.

I don't.

Amara.

I don't.

She sighed.

Okay.

That one word somehow sounded worse than an argument.

I sat down beside her.

I don't love him the way I used to.

Nia looked at me.

That's different.

Very.

She studied my face.

Then what do you feel?

I didn't answer immediately.

Because the truth was complicated.

I felt anger.

I felt disappointment.

I felt something dangerously close to nostalgia.

And somewhere underneath all of that...

there was still a tiny, stubborn piece of love.

Not the kind that made me want him back.

Not the kind that made me forgive him.

Just the kind that reminded me that once upon a time, I had loved him enough to believe forever was possible.

"I feel nothing," I finally said.

Nia gave me a look.

You're a terrible liar, Nia said.

I smiled faintly.

Goodnight, Nia.

She stood.

Fine.

She walked toward the door, then stopped.

One more thing.

What?

Don't let him rewrite the story.

My smile disappeared.

She continued.

Whatever he tells you, remember what happened.

Then she left.

I sat there alone.

Her words stayed with me.

Don't let him rewrite the story.

I didn't intend to.

Because I remembered.

I remembered everything.

Three years earlier.

I was twenty-one when I met Damian Cole.

Back then, he didn't own a company.

He didn't have security guards.

He didn't drive cars that cost more than some people's houses.

He didn't walk into rooms and make people straighten their backs.

Back then, Damian was just Damian.

A stubborn, ambitious boy with too much pride and not enough money.

We met on a rainy Tuesday.

I remember because I had been running late.

My sandals were soaked, my bag was almost falling apart, and I was already annoyed with the entire world.

I had stopped beneath the roof of a small café to escape the rain when someone bumped into me.

My coffee flew out of my hand.

Straight onto my white blouse.

I stared down at myself.

Then slowly looked up.

The man standing in front of me looked horrified.

I'm so sorry.

I said nothing.

He grabbed tissues from the table.

Please. Let me

Don't.

He stopped.

I looked at the stain again.

You just ruined my shirt.

I know.

Clearly.

I'll pay for it.

That made me look at him.

He was wearing a simple black shirt, slightly faded jeans, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days.

I raised an eyebrow.

With what?

He looked offended.

Excuse me?

You're telling me you'll pay for it.

Yes.

You look like you need someone to pay for yours.

He stared at me.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

Not a polite laugh.

A real one.

You insult everyone you meet?

Only people who pour coffee on me.

I didn't pour it.

You caused it.

Fair enough.

He held out his hand.

Damian.

I looked at his hand.

Then at him.

Amara.

He smiled.

I owe you a shirt.

You owe me a good shirt.

Expensive?

Very.

He laughed again.

And somehow, that was the beginning.

Not fireworks.

Not some magical moment.

Just spilled coffee and an argument.

We became friends slowly.

Then quickly.

There was a difference.

At first, we talked because we happened to be in the same places.

Then we started talking because we wanted to.

Damian would call me at night.

Sometimes we spoke for hours.

Sometimes he didn't say much.

He would just stay on the phone while I talked about my day.

I learned things about him.

He had big dreams.

Bigger than his circumstances.

He wanted to build something of his own.

Something people would remember.

He hated being pitied.

He hated asking for help.

And he had this strange habit of pretending everything was fine whenever it wasn't.

I noticed.

Of course I noticed.

I noticed everything about him.

The way his jaw tightened whenever he was worried.

The way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was lying.

The way he smiled whenever he was trying to hide that something hurt.

I noticed the little things.

That was probably my first mistake.

Because when you pay attention to someone long enough, you start loving them before you realize you're doing it.

The first time Damian kissed me, we were sitting inside his car.

It was raining.

Again.

He had driven me home but neither of us wanted to say goodbye.

We sat there listening to the rain hit the windshield.

Amara.

Hmm?

I need to tell you something.

I looked at him.

What?

He was quiet.

Then he said, I'm going to make it.

I smiled.

I know.

No.

His voice was serious.

I mean it. I'm going to make something of myself.

You will.

I don't know when.

It doesn't matter.

It does to me.

I reached for his hand.

It doesn't matter to me.

He looked down at our hands.

Then back at me.

You really believe in me?

Yes.

Even if I fail?

Yes.

Even if everybody else leaves?

I won't.

He stared at me.

And I meant it.

God, I meant it.

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers.

I love you.

Three words.

Three stupid, beautiful words.

And I smiled like an i***t.

"I love you too."

That was the night I gave him my heart.

I didn't know he would eventually teach me how to live without it.

My phone vibrated.

I blinked.

I was back in my bedroom.

Present day.

I looked at the screen.

Another message.

Damian: You don't have to forgive me.

I stared at it.

Another message appeared.

Damian: Just give me one chance to explain.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Explain.

That word.

He had used it before.

Three years ago.

The night everything ended.

I could still remember the exact words.

Amara, this isn't working anymore.

I had laughed because I thought he was joking.

He wasn't.

I've changed.

I had asked him what that meant.

He said he didn't know.

I asked if there was someone else.

He said no.

I asked if he loved me.

He didn't answer.

That silence had been the loudest thing I'd ever heard.

I had cried.

He hadn't.

I had begged.

He had looked away.

And then he left.

Just like that.

No explanation.

No closure.

No last kiss.

Nothing.

For three years, I had carried the same question.

Why?

Why did he leave?

Why did he suddenly become so cold?

Why did the man who once promised he'd never abandon me become the man who made abandonment look effortless?

And now...

He wanted to explain.

I placed the phone face down.

No.

Not tonight.

Maybe not tomorrow.

Maybe never.

I turned off the light.

But sleep refused to come.

Because no matter how hard I tried to bury the past, tonight had reminded me of something I didn't want to admit.

Damian Cole wasn't just a part of my past.

He was the part of my past I had never truly understood.

And now that he had returned...

I was terrified of what I might discover if I finally did.