Chapter Six: Crossing Lines
874 Words
The next morning, Amara stood in front of her flower shop, sipping her coffee as the cool breeze brushed against her skin. She had convinced herself that Matteo wouldn’t come back, and that was for the best.
"Kapag hindi na siya bumalik, tapos na 'to," she whispered, trying to convince herself.
But deep down, the thought of not seeing him again sent an ache through her chest.
The soft chime of the bell startled her, and she turned to see Gia walking in with her usual energy.
“Good morning, lovebird!” Gia teased, flashing her a mischievous grin.
Amara rolled her eyes. “Gia, hindi ako nasa mood.”
“Hindi mo mood? Or hindi mo siya mood?” Gia shot back, her teasing tone unwavering.
Before Amara could respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside made them both pause.
“Speaking of the devil,” Gia whispered, peeking out the window.
Amara didn’t need to look. She already knew who it was.
---
Matteo stepped out of his sleek black car, drawing the attention of passersby. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and tailored pants, he exuded confidence. But his eyes were softer today, filled with a determination that surprised even him.
As he entered the shop, Amara greeted him with a mix of irritation and unease.
“Matteo, what are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“I came to see you,” Matteo said simply, his gaze unwavering.
Gia, sensing the tension, grabbed a random bouquet and slipped into the back room. “I’ll just, uh… fix these flowers,” she said, leaving them alone.
“Amara,” Matteo started, his voice steady, “I know I upset you yesterday, but I need you to hear me out.”
“Matteo, we already talked about this,” Amara said, trying to maintain her resolve. “You don’t belong here. I don’t belong in your world. Why can’t you understand that?”
“Because I don’t care about the world,” Matteo said, his voice firm. “I care about you.”
Amara’s breath caught, but she quickly shook her head. “Matteo, this isn’t a movie. This is real life. And in real life, people like us don’t work out.”
“Who says we can’t?” Matteo stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “Amara, you make me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in years. I’m not asking for perfection. I’m asking for a chance.”
Amara looked at him, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his sincerity. “Matteo…” she began, her voice faltering.
“Just one chance,” Matteo said, his tone softer now. “Let me prove to you that this—us—is worth it.”
---
Before Amara could respond, the bell above the door jingled again. Both of them turned to see an older woman with sharp features and a commanding presence enter the shop.
“Matteo,” the woman said, her tone laced with disapproval.
Amara instantly recognized her from the gala. Bianca De Luca.
“Mother,” Matteo said, his jaw tightening.
Bianca’s eyes flicked to Amara, her expression unreadable. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding.”
Amara felt like a deer caught in headlights. She tried to speak, but no words came out.
“Mrs. De Luca,” Amara finally managed, her voice trembling slightly. “Welcome to my shop.”
Bianca’s smile was cold. “How quaint.”
“Mother, what are you doing here?” Matteo asked, his tone clipped.
“I came to remind you of your responsibilities,” Bianca said, her gaze never leaving Amara. “You have a meeting this afternoon with the board. Or did you forget?”
Matteo’s expression darkened. “I didn’t forget.”
Bianca’s smile tightened. “Good. Then you won’t mind leaving this… distraction and returning to where you belong.”
Amara flinched at the word distraction, but Matteo immediately stepped in.
“Amara is not a distraction,” he said, his voice cold. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Matteo, don’t be foolish. This girl—”
“Stop,” Matteo interrupted, his tone firm. “You don’t know anything about her. And if you’re here to insult her, you can leave.”
Bianca’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more. With one last icy glance at Amara, she turned and walked out of the shop.
---
The silence that followed was deafening. Amara looked at Matteo, her emotions a mix of gratitude and unease.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly.
“Yes, I did,” Matteo replied. “I’m not going to let anyone talk about you like that. Not even my mother.”
Amara sighed, her walls slowly breaking. “Matteo, your life is so complicated. And I don’t know if I can handle all of it.”
Matteo reached for her hand, his touch gentle. “You don’t have to handle it alone. Let me handle it—for both of us.”
For the first time, Amara allowed herself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, Matteo was worth the risk.
- Writer
