Lines Crossed
757 Words
The next few days passed in a blur of deadlines, fittings, fabric disasters, and sleepless nights spent in Jason’s office sketching and editing late into the night. The fashion preview was just one week away, and Savage Mode was at its boiling point.
But it wasn’t the pressure that kept Amara on edge.
It was the pull.
Jason.
The way he looked at her when no one else was watching.
The way his voice softened whenever he said her name.
The way her breath caught every time he got too close.
She wasn’t a fool. She knew it was wrong.
He had a fiancée.
And that fiancée was starting to notice.
The tension exploded on Friday during a team meeting in the conference room.
Amara sat near the corner, flipping through fabric notes, when the double doors opened and in walked Sophia.
Flawless. Loud. Confident.
Her heels clicked with authority as she made her way straight to Jason and leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek slow, calculated, and meant for an audience.
“Miss me, darling?” Sophia said sweetly, letting her hand rest on his shoulder just a little too long.
Jason gave her a stiff smile. “You’re early.”
“I missed you,” she replied, brushing her fingers down his lapel. “And I couldn’t wait to see how things are going with your… interns.”
Her eyes finally scanned the room and landed on Amara. A slow, sharp smile curved her lips.
“You must be Amara,” she said, her tone smooth but edged. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Amara lifted her chin. “Good things, I hope.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Sophia purred. “You’re from Nigeria, right? That’s so… inspiring. Making it all the way here. That’s quite a journey.”
Amara forced a polite smile. “Yes, it is. And I plan to go even further.”
Sophia’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but she smiled again. “I’m sure you will.”
Jason cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Let’s get started.”
But the energy in the room had shifted.
And Amara knew Sophia didn’t just suspect something.
She knew.
That night, the office had emptied out. The lights were dimmed. Amara stayed behind to organize fabric samples in the supply room, trying to distract herself from the storm in her chest.
She was halfway through folding a bolt of silk when the door creaked open.
Jason stood there, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a look of conflict written across his face.
“I wanted to check on you,” he said.
Amara glanced up but didn’t stop working. “I’m fine.”
“I know today was… uncomfortable.”
“She’s your fiancée,” she replied, trying to keep her tone steady. “She has every right to feel threatened.”
Jason stepped further inside, closing the door gently behind him.
“It’s not about her,” he said quietly.
Amara froze.
“Then what is it about?” she asked, finally turning to face him. “Because whatever’s happening between us… it’s not just nothing, Jason.”
He looked at her like a man on the edge.
“I’ve tried to ignore it,” he said, voice low and rough. “To focus. To keep my distance. But every time I look at you, Amara…”
Her heart thudded. She felt it in her stomach, her throat, her fingertips.
“Then stop pretending,” she said, almost in a whisper.
He didn’t move. Neither did she.
Seconds passed like hours.
Then suddenly, he closed the space between them and kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was fire and hunger and weeks of stolen glances and buried emotion crashing all at once.
Amara didn’t push him away.
She kissed him back fiercely.
Her hands gripped his shirt. His fingers tangled in her curls. The fabric they stood among seemed to fall away, and all that existed was this.
But reality was waiting.
Jason pulled back suddenly, breathing hard. His hand still lingered near her face.
“This was a mistake,” he said, stepping away.
“No,” Amara said, her voice trembling. “It was a choice.”
Jason looked torn between duty and desire, between the life he had and the one he suddenly wanted.
“I shouldn’t “he started.
“But you did.”
And then she walked past him, out the door, not looking back once.
Leaving him behind and herself unraveling.
- Writer
