Chapter 7 - Almost
1742 Words
The sky was deepening into a bruised violet as Amelia and Iris walked side by side, their shadows stretching long against the pavement. Their shopping bags brushed rhythmically against their legs, and the city breathed around them in tired sighs of evening traffic and the first flickers of neon.
Their feet ached with a dull, familiar throb. Their shoulders slumped under the weight of the day. Yet, there was laughter between them—soft, easy, the kind of music that only comes from years of surviving life's small storms together.
“I still can’t believe you made me try on that red dress,” Amelia said, adjusting the thin strap of her bag. “I looked like I was auditioning for a life I’m not even allowed to dream about.”
Iris laughed, a bright sound that cut through the city’s hum. She bumped Amelia’s shoulder gently. “That’s the point, Mel. Sometimes you have to dress for the life you’re walking into, not the one you feel stuck in. You looked beautiful.”
Amelia smiled, but the warmth didn't quite reach her eyes. Her practical heart was already doing the math.
They walked in silence for a moment as the streetlights hummed to life one by one. “We really shouldn’t have spent that much,” Amelia said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “The rent is already so tight this month.”
Iris sighed, her expression softening into something deeply sincere. “I know. I know it is. But tonight matters, Mel. Leo matters.” She nudged her again, her voice turning firm. “For once in your life, I want you to feel… chosen. Just for one night.”
Amelia didn’t answer. She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing the small card still tucked safely there. The edges were already slightly worn, as if she had touched it a hundred times just to make sure it was still real.
They reached the crosswalk. Above them, the pedestrian light blinked a steady, warning red. They waited.
Across the intersection, Spike drove with one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the city lights streaking past his windshield in blurred ribbons of white and red. His phone buzzed again on the passenger seat, the vibration rattling against the plastic.
MUM.
He exhaled sharply, a flash of irritation crossing his sharp features. “Now?” he muttered to the empty car.
He reached over, his eyes flicking between the darkening road and the glowing screen as he swiped to answer.
“Mum—”
“Spike,” her voice came through the speakers, tight and brittle with worry. “You didn't answer me earlier.”
“I’m driving,” he said, his voice clipped. “What’s wrong?”
“Your father is asking for you. We want to see you. Both of you. It’s been too long.”
Spike glanced up—the traffic light ahead was a solid, bleeding red. But his mind was miles away, tangled in the familiar web of family expectations. He didn't slow down.
“Tonight isn't a good time—” he started, shifting the phone to his other hand, his foot still heavy on the gas.
The car kept moving. Too fast.
On the corner, the pedestrian light turned a steady, inviting green.
Amelia took a step forward, her mind on the evening ahead. Iris stepped with her.
The sound came first—a sudden, violent scream of rubber against asphalt, a rush of displaced air that felt like a physical blow. Amelia felt the danger before she saw it.
“AMELIA—!”
Iris’s scream tore through the air. Headlights exploded into their vision, twin suns of blinding white light. The car barreled toward them, a mountain of steel moving too fast to stop.
Time fractured into a thousand jagged pieces.
Spike looked up, his heart stopping in his chest. Too late.
“s**t—!”
He slammed his foot onto the brakes. The car screeched, skidding violently as the tires fought for grip, the back end fishtailing before the vehicle groaned to a halt. It stopped inches—mere inches—from their bodies.
Amelia froze, her entire world narrowing down to the smell of burnt rubber and the heat radiating from the car’s hood. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it was painful. Her legs, usually so steady, simply gave out.
She hit the pavement hard, the breath ripped from her lungs. Iris collapsed beside her, shaking uncontrollably, her hands clutching Amelia’s arm like a lifeline. The world rang with a sharp, high-pitched frequency that made everything feel unreal.
Spike stumbled out of the car, the door slamming behind him with a hollow bang.
“Oh my God—oh my God,” he breathed, his voice raw. He ran toward them, his hands shaking as he reached out. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t see—I didn’t see you.”
He stopped when he reached them. Because suddenly, it wasn’t just fear flooding his chest. It was a jolt of pure, terrifying recognition.
Iris looked up first, her eyes wide and flashing with a mix of shock and rising fury.
“...You almost killed us,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Is that how you drive? Like we aren't even here?”
Spike frowned, his own heart pounding against his throat. “I didn't know... I'm so sorry. I didn't see the light.”
Iris stared openly now, her anger momentarily faltering as she looked at his face. The shock turned into a cold, stunned disbelief.
Spike’s breath caught. That was where he’d seen them. Or at least, one of them.
His gaze dropped to Amelia.
She was still on the ground, her hands pressed flat against the cold concrete, her chest rising and falling in jagged, frantic gasps. Slowly, she lifted her head.
Their eyes met.
Something hit Spike in that moment—it wasn't a memory, and it wasn't quite attraction. It was a pull. Sharp. Unwelcome. A sudden gravity that made the rest of the world fall away.
“I—” Spike swallowed hard, his usual confidence deserted him. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you hurt? Tell me if you’re hurt.”
Amelia shook her head faintly, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind and first she thought it was Leo. “I—I don’t think so. I’m just...”
Spike crouched instinctively, moving close enough to see the way her hands were shaking, the pale terror draining the color from her gentle face.
“I should’ve stopped,” he said quietly, his voice dropping to a somber, honest register. “That was entirely my fault.”
Iris pushed herself up, her protective instincts finally overriding the shock. “You could’ve killed us. You realize that, right?”
“I know,” Spike said immediately. There was no defense in his eyes, no wealthy arrogance. “And I am truly, deeply sorry.”
The word sorry sounded different when he said it. It felt heavy. It felt real. He reached out, offering Amelia his hand but Amelia still think of it's leo
She hesitated, her gaze moving from his hand to his eyes. Then, she took it.
The contact sent a strange, electric jolt through both of them—a brief, sharp spark that was gone before either could name it. Spike helped her up carefully, his grip firm but incredibly gentle, as if he were afraid she might shatter if he moved too fast.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice softer now.
Amelia nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yes. Just… scared.”
“I’d be scared too,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.
Iris crossed her arms, still studying him with a look of deep suspicion. “You drive like that often? Blasting through red lights?”
Spike exhaled a long, ragged breath. “No. I made a mistake. A bad one.”
A heavy silence settled between the three of them. Behind them, cars began to honk, the city demanding to move on. The moment was over, but something had already shifted in the air. Spike straightened, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically rattled.
“I can call someone for you,” he offered, his eyes flicking back to Amelia. “Or—I can take you home. Make sure you get there safe.”
Amelia shook her head quickly, her natural modesty kicking in. “No, thank you. We—we’re almost there. We can walk.”
He nodded, stepping back reluctantly. “Still… I’m sorry. Truly.”
Iris’s anger had softened now, replaced by a flickering curiosity—that strange itch of fate. As they turned to leave, Spike stood by his car and watched them go, his heart still racing in a way that had nothing to do with the accident.
He watched her especially.
He stood there far longer than necessary, long after their figures disappeared into the evening crowd.
Down the street, Amelia finally stopped walking. Her knees began to tremble so violently she had to lean against a brick wall. Iris grabbed her immediately, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“Hey. Hey, breathe. Just breathe, Mel.”
Amelia inhaled shakily, her voice a broken whisper. “I thought—Iris, we almost—”
“I know,” Iris whispered into her hair, holding her tight. “But you’re okay. We’re both okay.”
Amelia nodded against her shoulder, trying to force the image of the white headlights out of her mind. But she couldn't stop replaying it. The screech of the tires. The sudden stop. And the way the man’s eyes had looked—exactly like Leo.
She was unaware that this near-miss wasn’t a warning from the universe to stay away.
It was an introduction. And love, once divided between two brothers, often arrives disguised as a disaster.
- Writer
