A GIRL WHO DIDN'T BELONG

chapter 14 THE MORNING AFTER

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back at the terrace, the taste of wine still on my lips, the warmth of Dennis’ hand still brushing against mine, and the kiss — soft, certain, and impossibly real — replaying over and over like it belonged to another world entirely.

By the time the morning light filtered through my curtains, I was both restless and smiling. Valentine’s Day had ended, but the weight of it lingered inside me like a secret only my heart could understand.

I reached for my phone out of habit, fingers hovering over the screen, unsure whether to text him first. A dozen unsent drafts sat in my head — Good morning… Last night was perfect… I can’t stop thinking about you… — but I typed nothing. My chest buzzed with anticipation and hesitation, waiting.

Then it came.

Dennis: Did you sleep? Or did you replay last night like I did?

My breath caught. My smile widened. I pressed the phone to my chest before replying.

Me: Guilty. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

The three little dots blinked, stopped, blinked again — as if he was weighing his words carefully.

Dennis: Then let’s not make it a one-time thing. Dinner was just the start, Amarah.

I closed my eyes, the weight of his words sinking into me like sunlight breaking through clouds. The start. My heart thudded louder than it should have, and suddenly, the ordinary morning — my messy desk, the stack of books waiting for me, the CAT test I was supposed to be preparing for — felt different. Lighter. Full of promise.

But reality tugged at me. Classes didn’t pause for romance, and my calendar didn’t soften just because someone had set my heart racing. I showered, dressed, and tucked the memories of last night somewhere safe — carrying them like a shield through the day.

And yet, even in the lecture hall, surrounded by notebooks and the monotonous voice of the lecturer, I found myself scribbling not equations or notes, but his name. Just his name. Over and over again.

That night hadn’t just been Valentine’s Day. It had been a crossing — from what we were to what we might become. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid of the distance between us. Because he had closed it. And somehow, I knew he would again.