Distance
1464 Words
Chapter 17 — Distance
Amara avoided Jake for three days.
No calls.
No meetings.
No messages.
Work related updates went through Veronica instead.
And although she told herself the distance was necessary, her mind refused to stay quiet.
Because the problem wasn’t simple anymore.
If Jake were cruel without remorse, leaving would’ve been easy.
But remorse changed things.
Not enough to erase what he’d done.
Never that.
Still…
She saw the guilt eating him alive.
And that complicated everything.
On the fourth morning, Amara stood inside her apartment kitchen staring blankly into a cup of coffee gone cold.
Thandi watched her carefully from across the room.
“You miss him.”
Amara sighed heavily.
“I’m trying not to.”
“That’s not denial at all.”
Amara dropped into the chair dramatically.
“He abused someone, Thandi.”
“I know.”
“And somehow I still…”
She stopped herself.
Thandi softened slightly.
“You still see something human in him.”
Amara looked away quietly.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt.
Because she hated how much she understood Jake now.
Not his violence.
Never that.
But the loneliness beneath it.
The grief.
The shame.
“People can change,” Thandi said carefully.
Amara frowned immediately.
“That doesn’t mean women should stay around while they figure it out.”
“True.”
Silence settled.
Then Thandi added quietly:
“But change also becomes impossible when everyone decides you’re beyond saving.”
That thought lingered painfully.
Meanwhile, across town, Jake looked worse every day.
He barely slept.
Barely ate.
And the silence from Amara felt heavier than he expected.
Pathetic.
He shouldn’t care this much.
Yet every room inside Henry Group suddenly felt empty without her voice challenging him constantly.
Jake stood alone inside the jewelry studio reviewing unfinished pieces when Mr Maloi entered quietly.
“Well,” the older man sighed dramatically, “you look terrible.”
Jake didn’t glance up.
“Good morning to you too.”
Mr Maloi walked around slowly studying him.
“She stopped talking to you.”
Jake’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Yes.”
“And?”
Jake finally looked up tiredly.
“And nothing.”
Mr Maloi raised an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t sound like the Jake I know.”
“The Jake you know is exactly why she left.”
Silence followed.
Interesting.
Real accountability.
Mr Maloi sat across from him carefully.
“You love her.”
Jake laughed coldly.
“No.”
“You’re miserable.”
“I’ve been miserable for years.”
“But now you care.”
Jake looked away sharply.
Because unfortunately—
That part was true.
Amara mattered now.
Far more than she should.
“I told her the truth,” Jake muttered quietly.
Mr Maloi nodded slowly.
“And?”
“She looked at me differently afterward.”
Pain flickered across Jake’s face briefly before disappearing again.
Mr Maloi sighed softly.
“Actions have consequences, son.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Jake’s eyes hardened slightly.
“I know exactly what I’ve done.”
Silence.
Then unexpectedly Jake admitted quietly:
“I scared her.”
Mr Maloi studied him carefully.
“No,” he corrected softly. “You scared yourself.”
That hit too accurately.
Jake rubbed his face tiredly.
“I don’t know how to become someone else.”
Mr Maloi’s expression softened.
“You don’t become someone else.” He leaned forward slightly. “You become honest enough to stop hiding behind anger.”
Jake looked unconvinced.
Mr Maloi continued quietly:
“Your mother understood that about you long ago.”
Mentioning Elizabeth still hurt like an open wound.
Jake looked down at the unfinished jewelry designs.
“She believed I was good.”
“She was right.”
Jake laughed bitterly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
The older man’s voice sharpened unexpectedly.
“Jake, guilt means your conscience survived.”
Silence settled heavily.
Then Mr Maloi added:
“But guilt without change is useless.”
Those words stayed inside Jake’s head long after the conversation ended.
Later that evening, Amara attended a small fashion networking event downtown.
Normally she enjoyed these gatherings.
Tonight, she only felt exhausted.
Every conversation seemed shallow.
Every smile felt forced.
And unfortunately—
Every few minutes someone mentioned Jake Henry.
“Are the rumors true?”
“You two looked so close.”
“He’s gorgeous but terrifying.”
Amara smiled politely through most of it while internally wanting to scream.
Eventually she escaped onto the rooftop terrace overlooking the city.
Cold wind brushed against her skin while music echoed faintly from inside.
“Running away too?”
Amara turned slightly.
Veronica walked toward her holding two glasses of champagne.
“One for you,” Veronica offered.
“Thanks.”
They stood beside the railing quietly for a moment.
Then Veronica spoke carefully.
“You disappeared from work.”
“I needed space.”
“From Jake?”
Amara nodded once.
Veronica sighed softly.
“I heard about Teresa.”
Amara closed her eyes briefly.
“Then you know why I’m struggling.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Veronica surprised her.
“But I also know Jake’s been different lately.”
Amara frowned slightly.
“Different how?”
“He’s trying.”
Amara laughed quietly without humor.
“Trying doesn’t erase abuse.”
“No,” Veronica agreed immediately. “But most abusive men don’t admit guilt either.”
That thought unsettled her again.
Because it was true.
Jake didn’t deny what happened.
Didn’t blame Teresa.
Didn’t make excuses.
He hated himself for it.
And somehow that made him harder to categorize as purely evil.
“He needs therapy,” Amara muttered.
Veronica nearly laughed.
“Absolutely.”
For the first time that evening, Amara smiled slightly.
Then her expression softened again.
“I just don’t know if caring about someone like him makes me stupid.”
Veronica looked at her carefully.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether he’s actually changing… or whether you’re hoping love will save him.”
That question hit hard.
Because deep down—
Amara wasn’t entirely sure anymore.
At that exact moment downstairs, murmurs suddenly spread through the event hall.
Veronica glanced toward the glass doors curiously.
“Oh.”
Amara frowned.
“What?”
Veronica looked almost amused now.
“Speak of the emotionally damaged devil.”
Amara turned.
And froze slightly.
Jake had arrived.
Wearing an all-black suit, looking unfairly handsome and visibly uncomfortable around crowds as usual.
The moment he entered the room, attention shifted toward him immediately.
Several people greeted him.
Women stared.
Businessmen approached carefully.
Jake ignored most of them.
Because his eyes already found Amara across the rooftop entrance.
And stayed there.
Her heartbeat betrayed her instantly.
Damn him.
Veronica quietly sipped champagne.
“Well… this should be interesting.”
“Did you invite him?”
“Nope.”
Amara watched as Jake slowly made his way through the crowd toward the terrace.
Every step tightened the tension inside her chest.
When he finally stepped outside, silence settled between them immediately.
Veronica looked between both of them once before sighing dramatically.
“I suddenly remembered I hate third-wheeling.”
And then she disappeared back inside.
Traitor.
Jake stopped a few feet away from Amara.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Amara crossed her arms lightly.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
The city lights glowed beneath them while wind moved softly around the rooftop.
Jake looked tired again.
More vulnerable somehow.
“What do you want, Jake?”
He hesitated slightly before answering.
“To talk.”
Amara looked away toward the skyline.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“There’s a lot to say.”
Silence.
Then Jake quietly admitted:
“I miss you.”
The honesty struck directly through her defenses.
Dangerous man.
Amara swallowed softly.
“You don’t get to say things like that so easily.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She turned toward him now. “Because feelings don’t erase harm.”
Jake nodded slowly.
“I know.”
Again with the honesty.
No arguments.
No manipulation.
Just acceptance.
And somehow that made this harder.
“I’m trying to understand how someone can be both terrible and… this.”
Jake frowned slightly.
“This?”
“Hurt.”
The word lingered heavily between them.
Jake looked down briefly.
“My father used to say grief either softens people or hardens them.”
Amara studied him quietly.
“And you hardened.”
“Yes.”
Silence again.
Then Jake finally looked directly at her.
“But I don’t want to anymore.”
The vulnerability in his voice felt painfully real.
Amara’s chest tightened.
Because for the first time—
She believed him.
- Writer
