**Chapter Three: The Morning After**
486 Words
Amara woke before dawn, tangled in silk sheets that reeked of sin and memory.
Damian lay beside her, bare chest rising and falling steadily, one hand resting over his abs, the other grazing her waist as if even in sleep, he refused to let her go.
She sat up carefully, pressing the sheet against her naked body, every inch of her aching—in satisfaction and regret.
Last night was a mistake.
A blistering, mind-shattering, toe-curling mistake.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for her robe.
> “You’re leaving?” came his husky voice.
Damn it. He was awake.
> “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said without turning.
> “And yet, it did. Again.”
She faced him, arms crossed.
> “s*x doesn’t mean I forgive you. It doesn’t erase what you did.”
> “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said, sitting up, muscles flexing. “But don’t lie to me—or yourself—about what this is.”
> “This was a one-time relapse,” she snapped. “And I’m sober now.”
He smirked, standing, shamelessly naked. Her eyes dipped despite herself.
> “You’re shaking, Amara.”
> “Because I’m angry.”
> “Because you still want me.”
Before she could respond, a loud knock sounded at the door.
Her heart jumped. She grabbed her robe and dashed toward the living room.
> “Stay inside,” she told Damian sharply.
> “Amara—”
> “Please.”
She opened the door.
And froze.
**Kairo.**
Her best friend. Her confidant. The man who had held her when she cried, who had never once crossed the line—until recently.
He held a bag of pastries and a coffee tray.
> “I thought you might need breakfast,” he said, smiling softly. Then he frowned, eyes narrowing as he took in her appearance.
> “Are you okay?”
Behind her, the floor creaked.
She didn’t need to turn to know Damian had walked out shirtless.
Kairo’s eyes darkened.
And just like that, the air froze.
> “Oh,” Kairo said quietly. “I see.”
Amara’s voice failed her.
Kairo placed the bag on the doorstep and turned to leave.
> “Wait—Kairo, please—”
> “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said without turning. “But I thought you were done with him.”
> “I thought so too,” she whispered.
Damian leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching the scene unfold with a clenched jaw.
> “He in love with you?”
> “Yes,” she admitted. “But he’s not the one who breaks me.”
> “Then he’s not the one who owns you.”
Her breath caught.
Because deep down, she feared he was right.
---
*End of Chapter Three*
- Writer
