After the Storm
838 Words
Chapter Ten: After the Storm
First-person POV (Amara)
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I woke up smiling.
His arms were still wrapped around me. His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek. The sunlight brushed our skin like a quiet blessing.
I wanted to stay in that moment forever.
Wrapped in him.
Wrapped in what I thought we had become.
But reality came faster than I expected.
---
He stirred.
His grip loosened.
Then, slowly, he untangled himself and sat on the edge of the bed — back facing me, silent.
“Liam?” I said softly.
He didn’t answer.
He stood, grabbed his robe, and walked into the bathroom without a single glance back.
The door shut.
I stared at the empty space beside me, confusion blooming in my chest like poison.
---
When he came out twenty minutes later, dressed in a crisp white shirt and grey slacks, he looked like the man I married — the cold one.
The unreadable one.
He barely met my eyes.
“I have meetings all day,” he said flatly, adjusting his cufflinks.
“Do you want breakfast?” I asked.
“No.”
His voice was clipped. Like I was just… staff again.
I stood slowly, my robe tightening around me. “Liam… about last night—”
“Don’t read into it,” he cut in, buttoning his sleeves. “It was a moment. That’s all.”
A moment.
Just a moment.
My heart sank.
“I thought it meant something,” I whispered.
He finally looked at me — but his eyes were hard now.
“That’s the problem, Amara. You think too much.”
And then he walked out.
---
The silence he left behind felt like a slap.
I sat back on the bed, my whole body numb. My chest ached in places I didn’t even know could hurt.
It had meant something to me.
Every touch. Every kiss. Every broken word we shared.
But to him, it was just a weakness.
A c***k he would rather forget.
---
The rest of the day was torture.
He didn’t call.
He didn’t text.
He didn’t even come home that night.
Helen said he was at the penthouse downtown — something about a dinner with investors.
But I knew better.
He was running.
Not from the world.
From me.
From himself.
---
The press had gotten wind of our “honeymoon.”
There were headlines everywhere:
> “Liam Voss and Mysterious Bride Spotted at Voss Estate.”
“Is the Billionaire Finally in Love?”
“Sources Say The Marriage is Real.”
But inside the mansion?
There was nothing real.
Just silence.
Just space.
Just me, clinging to memories of a night that might have been fake.
---
I visited Mama that afternoon.
She was doing better. Her cheeks had color. Her smile was stronger.
“You look tired,” she said, brushing a finger down my arm. “Married life?”
I forced a smile. “Something like that.”
She watched me for a long moment. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I lied. “But sometimes… not being touched hurts more.”
She nodded like she understood.
Because Mama always did.
---
That night, I stayed up waiting.
The clock hit 1AM.
Still no sign of him.
My chest felt tight — not because I missed him, but because I hated how much I was beginning to need him.
Then finally… headlights.
I rushed to the window.
His car pulled in. He got out. Alone. Looking tired. Distant.
I opened the door to the hallway, heart pounding.
He looked up as he walked past me.
Paused.
But didn’t speak.
Then continued walking toward the master bedroom like I wasn’t standing there, breaking.
---
I followed him.
“Liam.”
He stopped.
I moved closer. “Say something. Please. Last night—”
“It shouldn’t have happened.”
I flinched. “But it did.”
He turned slowly.
His voice was low. “You were a contract. A convenient lie. You were never supposed to mean anything.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“Then why did you let it happen?”
“Because I’m selfish,” he hissed. “Because for one night, I wanted to feel alive again. But that doesn’t mean I’m yours.”
My lip trembled. “I never asked to be.”
He stepped closer, towering over me.
“Then don’t act like you’re broken.”
“I’m not acting!” I cried. “I am broken!”
He stared at me — silent. And for a moment, I thought I saw guilt flash in his eyes.
But it faded.
He turned his back.
And walked away.
---
I fell to the floor, knees hitting the cold marble.
My hand clutched the wedding ring on my finger.
For the first time, I wanted to take it off.
But I couldn’t.
Because some part of me still believed there was something worth holding onto.
Even if he didn’t.
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- Writer
