HIS HIDDEN SON

Chapter 13 – The Distance Between Us

The little bell above the door chimed softly as Amara pushed it open, the familiar scent of paper and ink washing over her like a shield. The bookstore was small, tucked into a corner of the busy street, its wooden shelves climbing high and filled with stories that promised escape. This place had always been her refuge. The quiet hum, the warmth of the lamps, and the orderly lines of books all felt safe, controllable. Here, nothing spiraled beyond her grasp.

She clutched her tote closer as she walked behind the counter. Her co-worker, Mrs. Kalu, an older woman with kind eyes and glasses perched on her nose, smiled warmly.

“You look tired, my dear,” she said. “Late night?”

Amara forced a small smile. “Something like that.”

The truth lingered heavily in her chest: Clara’s reappearance, the sharp reminder that Ethan belonged to a world she could never claim. Amara had spent most of the night replaying the scene, the way Ethan had looked at her, the way Clara had seemed so sure of her place beside him. It had left Amara raw, uncertain, and aching.

She had promised herself that today she would focus only on work. Shelving, checking inventory, recommending books to customers — tasks that didn’t demand anything except her mind and her hands. Tasks that kept her heart silent.

But as the day crept on and the store’s quiet settled around her, a shadow broke the fragile peace.

The bell chimed again.

Amara looked up, half-expecting another customer. Instead, her breath stilled.

Ethan.

He stood in the doorway, tall and composed as ever, his presence filling the small space effortlessly. He wasn’t dressed in his usual business armor of a suit, but in a simple dark shirt and jeans. Somehow, that made him more dangerous — stripped of formality, he was just a man. A man who had once held her, kissed her, left her heart undone.

Her hand tightened around the edge of the counter. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

He walked closer, the soft light catching in his eyes. “I wanted to see you.”

Her lips pressed together. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“And why not?” His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent beneath it, something simmering.

Amara swallowed. “Because this is my space. My life. You don’t belong here, Ethan.”

He leaned against the counter, too close, his gaze locked on her. “I belong wherever you are.”

Her heart stuttered. The words were too much, too dangerous. She looked away, focusing instead on the pile of books waiting to be catalogued. “You don’t understand. Yesterday…” She trailed off, unable to say Clara’s name.

“Yesterday was nothing,” Ethan said firmly, as if reading her thoughts. “Clara doesn’t matter. She never has.”

Amara’s chest tightened. “She does matter. Maybe not to you, but to the world you come from. And that world…” She paused, her throat thick. “That world will always swallow me whole.”

Silence stretched between them. The tick of the old clock on the wall filled the gap, steady and unrelenting.

Ethan reached out, his hand brushing lightly over hers on the counter. The contact sent heat spiraling through her, but she pulled back quickly, retreating as though burned.

“Amara,” he said softly, almost pleading. “Don’t push me away. Not when we’ve come this far.”

Her laugh was small, brittle. “Far? We’ve only circled back to the beginning, Ethan. A place where I love you, and you…” She stopped, shaking her head. “And you belong to someone else’s world. Not mine.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes searching hers as if he could drag the truth out of her. But Amara forced herself to remain still, to breathe through the ache.

Before either of them could speak again, the bell chimed once more.

“Mom!”

Liam burst into the shop, his small backpack bouncing against his shoulders, his face lit with the innocent joy that never failed to soften Amara’s heart. He ran straight to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Amara bent down, hugging him tightly. For a moment, she clung to his warmth, his simple presence. But when she looked up, her eyes collided with Ethan’s.

The way he watched Liam — tender, protective, filled with something that was dangerously close to longing — made her breath catch.

Liam glanced between them curiously. “Daddy!” he said brightly, running toward Ethan without hesitation.

Amara’s heart jolted at the word. She hadn’t taught him to call Ethan that. She hadn’t dared. But Liam, clever and intuitive as always, had decided it on his own.

Ethan froze for a moment, then crouched down and opened his arms. Liam barreled into him, laughing, and Ethan held him close, his face softening in a way Amara rarely saw.

Something in her chest cracked open. The sight was beautiful, heartbreaking, and terrifying all at once.

“Did you come to pick me up today?” Liam asked eagerly.

Ethan glanced at Amara, searching her face, then looked back at his son. “No, champ. I just came to see your mom.”

Liam frowned a little. “Oh.” He shifted his gaze, puzzled, but then quickly brightened. “Can you read me a story? Please?”

Ethan hesitated, then looked at Amara again, silently asking. She swallowed hard, torn between resistance and the undeniable pull of what was right there in front of her.

Finally, she nodded.

Liam grinned, pulling a book off the shelf and climbing into Ethan’s lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Ethan began to read, his deep voice wrapping around the words, and Liam listened with rapt attention.

Amara stood there, her hands trembling against the counter, watching them. Watching the family they could be — if only she were brave enough. If only the world were kinder.

Her throat burned with unshed tears. She turned away, pretending to busy herself with the books, but every word Ethan spoke, every laugh Liam gave, cut into her.

She couldn’t let herself fall again. Not when the cost would be more than her heart could bear.

And yet, as the soft sound of father and son filled the little bookstore, Amara knew: she was already falling.

Again.

And this time, there might be no escape.