Amelia’s POV
The café buzzed with activity, but to me, it was muted. I couldn’t hear the hum of voices or the clinking of cups over the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. John stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His presence was a ghost from a past I had fought so hard to escape.
I pulled myself to my feet, my hands trembling as I gripped the edge of the counter for support. Around us, the café fell silent, all eyes on the strange, tense exchange.
“Amelia,” John said softly, his voice laced with something I couldn’t quite place—pity? Regret? “Please, I just need a moment of your time.”
I glanced around, my mind racing for an exit. The back door was too far, and the crowded tables meant running wouldn’t be an easy option. My chest tightened as I thought of Mark and
