The silence between them was no longer suffocating—it was charged.
Heavy.
Breathing.
Alive.
Amelia’s bare feet shifted slightly against the hardwood floor, her arms still folded like a barrier she didn’t believe in anymore. Andrew stood close—too close—and yet not close enough. His eyes roamed her face, studying every flicker of emotion. His breath touched her cheek, his presence overpowering but not suffocating. Magnetic.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice fraying at the edges.
“Then go,” she whispered back.
But neither of them moved.
Their eyes clashed in a long, aching stare—full of old wounds and unsaid apologies, of longing that had festered too long in the dark. A thousand reasons to stop. And not a single one strong enough.
Andrew’s hand moved first.
Not to tou
