The Man I Loved

Chapter Ten - Trying Again

For the next few days, Amara and Damian moved around each other carefully.

Not like strangers.

That would have been easier.

They knew each other too well to become strangers.

Instead, they behaved like two people standing on opposite sides of a bridge that had partially collapsed, both staring at the gap and wondering whether it was safe to cross.

Damian still kissed her good morning.

Usually.

Sometimes it was only a brief kiss against her forehead.

Sometimes it was her cheek.

Once, when he thought she was still asleep, he kissed her shoulder.

Amara pretended not to notice.

She wasn't ready to admit how much those small gestures still mattered.

At breakfast, Damian asked whether she had slept.

At dinner, he asked if she was tired.

Before leaving for work, he reminded her to eat something.

It should have felt normal.

Instead, everything carried an invisible question.

Does he believe me today?

Amara hated that she was beginning to wonder.

She hated even more that she sometimes caught herself studying his face, searching for suspicion.

One evening, she found him standing at the kitchen counter with his phone in his hand.

He looked up.

"You're home early."

"So are you."

"I cancelled a meeting."

"Why?"

He slipped his phone into his pocket.

"You had your appointment."

Amara stopped.

"What appointment?"

"The doctor."

She stared at him.

Then remembered.

The pregnancy.

The appointment they had both forgotten to discuss.

"Oh."

Damian's expression softened.

"I didn't forget."

Something about those words made her chest ache.

"You remembered?"

"Of course I remembered."

He walked toward her.

"I remember everything about you."

Amara looked at him carefully.

"Sometimes I wish you didn't."

His expression changed.

"Why?"

"Because then maybe you wouldn't remember the worst things."

Damian's jaw tightened.

"I don't want to remember them."

"But you do."

"Yes."

They stood silently.

Then Damian reached for her hand.

She let him take it.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"About?"

"Us."

She almost laughed.

"That's dangerous."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"I know."

It disappeared quickly.

"I don't want our entire relationship to become about what happened."

"Neither do I."

"Then we need to start doing things differently."

Amara studied him.

"How?"

"I don't know."

For once, Damian sounded completely honest.

"I've spent so much time trying to control what happened that I forgot I can't control how you feel."

Amara's fingers tightened around his.

"That's true."

"I also can't force you to trust me."

She looked surprised.

"You're worried about me trusting you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I know what it's like to have someone you love stop trusting you."

The words landed heavily between them.

Amara looked down.

"I never stopped loving you."

"I know."

"Even when you were angry."

"I know."

"Even when I knew you hated what I'd done."

"I didn't hate you."

She looked up.

"I hated what happened."

Damian stepped closer.

"There's a difference."

Amara searched his eyes.

"Is there?"

"There has to be."

She wanted to believe him.

She really did.

---

The following Saturday, Damian surprised her.

"Get dressed."

Amara looked up from the sofa.

"For what?"

"We're going out."

"Where?"

"It's a surprise."

She narrowed her eyes.

"That's suspicious."

"Why?"

"Because you never have surprises."

Damian raised an eyebrow.

"I have surprises."

"You once gave me a diamond bracelet and told me three days later that you had forgotten you bought it."

"That was an accident."

She laughed.

It was the first genuine laugh they'd shared in days.

Damian smiled.

"There she is."

Amara's smile faded slightly.

"What?"

"I've missed that."

Her heart tightened.

She stood.

"Give me twenty minutes."

"Take thirty."

"You're impossible."

"I've been told."

---

They drove through Paris without telling her where they were going.

Amara watched the city through the window.

Paris looked different when she wasn't rushing.

The cafés were filling with people.

Couples sat outside beneath heaters despite the cool air.

A man walked a small dog along the pavement.

A woman carried flowers beneath her arm.

Life was happening everywhere.

Ordinary life.

Amara wondered what hers would look like in a year.

Would she be carrying a baby?

Would Damian be beside her?

Would they still be happy?

She looked at him.

His hands were relaxed on the steering wheel.

For once, there was no tension in his face.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"You've said that four times."

"And you keep asking."

"Because you're being annoying."

"I can live with that."

Eventually, he parked near the Jardin du Luxembourg.

Amara smiled.

"You brought me here?"

"Yes."

They got out.

Damian took her hand.

They walked slowly through the gardens.

It was simple.

No expensive restaurant.

No private room.

No security standing nearby.

Just them.

Amara breathed in the cool air.

"I like this."

"So do I."

They found a quiet bench.

Damian sat beside her.

For several minutes, neither spoke.

Then Amara said, "Do you remember the first time we came here?"

"No."

She looked at him.

"You don't?"

Damian smiled.

"I remember everything important."

"You took me here after my first week at Vale Holdings."

"I did?"

"Yes."

He looked genuinely surprised.

Amara laughed.

"You really don't remember."

"I remember you wearing a blue coat."

Her smile faded.

"You do remember."

"I remember you complaining that your feet hurt."

"They did."

"You refused to sit down."

"Because you were walking too fast."

Damian laughed.

"And then you blamed me."

"Because it was your fault."

He looked at her.

For a few seconds, they simply smiled at each other.

It felt like the old days.

Before Ethan.

Before suspicion.

Before the question.

Before everything became complicated.

Amara leaned her head against his shoulder.

Damian kissed the top of her head.

"I want more days like this."

"So do I."

"I want us to have something normal."

Amara looked at him.

"Can we?"

"I don't know."

She appreciated the honesty.

"But I'd like to try."

She smiled.

"Then we'll try."

---

That night, they cooked dinner together.

Or rather, Damian cooked while Amara watched.

"You said you wanted to help," he said.

"I am helping."

"You're drinking wine."

"I'm providing emotional support."

He laughed.

"You are completely useless."

"I'm pregnant. I'm allowed."

"You are barely pregnant."

Amara gasped.

"Excuse me?"

Damian turned toward her.

"That sounded wrong."

"It did."

"I meant—"

She started laughing.

He smiled.

"I should stop talking."

"Definitely."

He walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Amara rested her hands against his chest.

"I missed this."

"So did I."

He kissed her forehead.

Then her cheek.

Then her lips.

The kiss was slow.

Careful.

Not desperate.

Not heated.

Just familiar.

When they separated, Damian kept his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry."

Amara closed her eyes.

"For what?"

"For making you feel like you have to earn your place beside me."

Her eyes opened.

"You don't have to apologize for being hurt."

"I know."

"But you do have to decide what you're going to do with that hurt."

Damian nodded.

"I will."

She touched his cheek.

"I hope you do."

---

Three weeks passed.

The pregnancy slowly became more real.

Amara began waking up nauseous.

Certain smells suddenly made her sick.

Coffee became unbearable.

Damian found this amusing until one morning when she glared at him after he made himself espresso.

"Get that away from me."

He immediately moved the cup.

"Sorry."

"Farther."

He moved it across the kitchen.

"Better?"

"Much."

He smiled.

"You hate coffee now."

"I hate everything."

"That's reassuring."

She threw a napkin at him.

He laughed.

It was strange how ordinary moments could make everything feel okay again.

But beneath those moments, the DNA test remained.

Neither of them talked about it much.

Until one evening, Damian received a call.

He stepped away to answer it.

Amara couldn't hear the conversation.

But she saw his expression.

Serious.

Focused.

When he returned, he placed his phone on the table.

"The doctor called."

Her stomach tightened.

"What did he say?"

"They've scheduled the appointment."

"When?"

"Next month."

Amara nodded.

"Okay."

Damian sat across from her.

"You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid of the test."

"What are you afraid of?"

She looked at him.

"I'm afraid of what happens after."

Damian frowned.

"If the results confirm I'm the father?"

"Yes."

He didn't understand.

"Why would that frighten you?"

"Because then you'll have to decide whether you believe me."

He stared at her.

"I will."

"You say that now."

"I mean it."

"I hope so."

Damian reached across the table.

This time, Amara took his hand before he could.

"I don't want to spend the rest of this pregnancy waiting for you to decide whether I'm trustworthy."

"You won't."

She searched his face.

"Promise?"

He squeezed her hand.

"Promise."

Outside, Paris continued moving.

Cars passed.

People laughed on the pavement.

Lights flickered across apartment windows.

Inside, Amara rested her free hand over the tiny life growing inside her.

For the first time since discovering she was pregnant, she allowed herself to imagine the future again.

A nursery.

Tiny clothes.

A crib.

Damian holding their baby.

Maybe a family photograph.

Maybe happiness.

She didn't know that the future she was imagining would eventually force both of them to confront parts of themselves they had been trying desperately to hide.

For now, though, they were still trying.

And sometimes trying was the only thing two broken people knew how to do.