AMARA
“What on earth is happening?” Soya asked as we stood in the corner, watching the delivery men carry in piece after piece of luxury furniture into the café.
Her eyes widened with disbelief. “Where did you get the money for all this?”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was just as overwhelmed as she was. The furniture being unwrapped was nothing short of extravagant—designer pieces that screamed wealth. Even my prized Birkin collection couldn’t match the value of what was now filling the space around us.
Soya took a cautious step forward, squinting at one of the armchairs. Her brows furrowed. “Wait… is that Bentley furniture?”
I know who did this. I don’t need to ask. I already knew.
Only one man would do something this outrageous for me—without hesitation, without asking. And judgi
