CHAPTER 4
1656 Words
“You don’t even sound like yourself anymore.”
Celeste’s words landed harder than the champagne.
Amara froze with the crystal glass halfway to her lips, her smile faltering for only a second before she recovered it gracefully. Years of pretending had made her good at that.
Very good.
Around them, soft jazz floated through the rooftop lounge while wealthy guests laughed beneath golden lights overlooking the city skyline. Diamonds glittered. Expensive perfume filled the air. Everyone looked beautiful.
Everyone looked happy.
Especially Amara Beaumont.
At least from a distance.
“You’re being dramatic,” Amara replied lightly.
Celeste leaned back in her chair and studied her with narrowed eyes. “And you’ve become a professional liar.
That stung because it was true.
Amara glanced away toward the crowd instinctively, searching for Damien. He stood on the rooftop, surrounded by investors and politicians, effortlessly commanding attention in a black tailored suit.
God, he looked perfect.
Every woman in the room noticed him.
Every man respected him.
And every few minutes, Damien’s gaze drifted back to Amara like she was still the center of his universe.
Anyone watching would envy her.
Celeste followed her gaze and sighed quietly. “That looks right there.”
“What look?”
“The one where you convince yourself crumbs are enough because he occasionally remembers to feed you affection.”
Amara’s chest tightened.
“Don’t start.”
“I have to start because you won’t.” Celeste lowered her voice. “You caught your husband cheating with multiple women, and somehow you’re still defending him.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“You stayed.”
The bluntness knocked the air from her lungs.
Amara set her glass down carefully before her shaking fingers betrayed her. “Marriage is complicated.”
“No.” Celeste shook her head slowly. “Love is complicated. Humiliation isn’t.”
Amara flinched like she’d been slapped.
Celeste immediately softened. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” Her friend reached across the table. “Amara, look at me.”
Reluctantly, she did.
The concern in Celeste’s eyes nearly unraveled her.
“You used to be so alive,” Celeste whispered. “Now you look exhausted all the time.”
Because she was exhausted.
Exhausted from pretending.
Exhausted from analyzing every expression Damien made. Every late-night meeting. Every business trip. Every notification was lighting up his phone screen.
Exhausted from loving someone she no longer trusted.
But worst of all—
Exhausted from still wanting him anyway.
“You think I’m weak,” Amara said quietly.
Celeste’s expression softened painfully. “No. I think you’re drowning.”
The words lodged deep inside her chest.
Before Amara could respond, applause erupted nearby.
Damien had apparently finished another charming speech.
People gathered around him instantly, laughing at something he said. Confident. Untouchable. Magnetic.
Celeste watched him coldly. “He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
Amara hated how defensive she still became whenever someone criticized him.
Even now.
Even after everything.
Damien spotted her across the rooftop then, and his entire expression warmed immediately. He excused himself from the crowd and headed toward her with effortless confidence.
Celeste muttered under her breath, “Here comes the performance.”
“Stop.”
“No, you stop romanticizing manipulation.”
Before Amara could answer, Damien reached the table.
“There are my favorite girls.”
His hand settled naturally against Amara’s lower back as he leaned down to kiss her temple. The touch was gentle. Familiar.
Possessive.
“How’s the party?” he asked.
“Loud,” Celeste answered dryly.
Damien smirked slightly. “Still hate rich people?”
“I specifically hate fake rich people.”
Amara shot her a warning look.
Damien, however, only chuckled softly. “You’ve always been terrifying.”
“And you’ve always been dishonest.”
The tension sharpened instantly.
Amara’s stomach twisted.
But Damien slipped into the empty chair beside her with maddening calmness. “I deserve that.”
Celeste looked almost disappointed by how easily he admitted it.
That was the problem with Damien.
The moment people prepared to hate him, he became self-aware enough to disarm them.
“I’m serious,” Celeste said, leaning forward. “You hurt her.”
Something flickered behind Damien’s eyes.
Guilt maybe.
Or annoyance.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“And?”
“And I’m trying to fix it.”
Celeste laughed under her breath. “By buying flowers and acting tortured?”
Damien’s jaw tightened slightly.
Amara noticed everything about him.
“It’s more than that,” he replied evenly.
“Is it?”
“Celeste,” Amara warned softly.
“No.” Her friend turned back toward her. “Someone needs to say this because clearly nobody else will.”
The rooftop suddenly felt too crowded. Too warm.
Too exposing.
“You’re disappearing inside this marriage,” Celeste said firmly. “Every decision you make revolves around keeping him happy. You forgive things that should destroy relationships because you’re terrified of losing him.”
Amara opened her mouth to deny it.
But nothing came out.
Because the truth sat heavily between them all.
Damien looked at her then.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time all evening, uncertainty crossed his face.
Tiny.
But real.
“Amara…”
She stood abruptly.
“I need air.”
Without waiting for either of them to stop her, she walked away from the table and toward the quieter side of the rooftop balcony.
The city lights blurred beneath her watery eyes.
She gripped the railing tightly and inhaled shakily.
Was Celeste right?
Had she really become someone she no longer recognized?
A woman who measured love by survival instead of peace?
Footsteps approached behind her slowly.
Damien.
Of course.
“I’m going to kill your friend someday,” he murmured gently beside her.
Despite herself, Amara let out a small laugh.
His shoulder brushed hers lightly. “You okay?”
“No.”
The honesty surprised both of them.
Damien grew quiet.
“She thinks I’m pathetic,” Amara admitted softly.
“She’s protective.”
“She thinks I’m losing myself.”
His expression darkened slightly at that.
“You’re not losing yourself.”
“How would you know?”
The question hung painfully between them.
Damien looked away toward the skyline. “Because I know you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me for months.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“I know.”
“You looked me in the eyes every day and made me feel guilty for doubting you.”
His silence was answer enough.
Amara swallowed hard. “Sometimes I don’t even trust my own thoughts anymore.”
That finally got to him.
She saw it immediately.
Pain flickered openly across Damien’s face before he stepped closer.
“I hate that I did that to you.”
His voice sounded rougher now.
Less polished.
More dangerous because of how genuine it felt.
“You should.”
“I do.”
The wind lifted strands of her hair as they stood there together beneath the city lights, suspended somewhere between love and destruction.
Damien touched her hand carefully. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need peace.”
The answer came instantly.
His fingers tightened around hers.
“I’m trying.”
Amara looked at him then—really looked at him.
At the exhaustion beneath his beautiful face. There is tension hiding behind his calmness lately.
And suddenly she wondered something terrifying.
Was Damien falling apart, too?
The thought made her heart ache despite everything.
“You still love me,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t arrogance.
It sounded almost afraid.
Amara looked away because that was the problem.
No matter how badly he hurt her—
She still did.
Hours later, the mansion was silent again.
Amara lay curled against Damien’s chest in bed while rain tapped softly against the windows. His fingers moved lazily through her hair, slow and soothing.
These moments confused her most.
When he became gentle.
When he held her as if she were precious.
When loving him felt easy again.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Damien murmured sleepily.
“You always say that.”
“Because you do.”
She smiled faintly against his chest.
For a little while, neither of them spoke.
Then suddenly—
Damien’s phone rang.
The sound shattered the quiet instantly.
Amara felt his body tense beneath her.
Not mildly.
Violently.
Her eyes lifted slowly toward his face.
The screen illuminated the darkness between them.
Unknown Number.
Damien stared at it for one long second.
And for the first time since she’d known him—
Amara saw genuine fear in his eyes.
- Writer
