The Forbidden Touch

CHAPTER 4

The next morning, Amara woke up with one thought repeating in her mind.

Liam.

She stared at the ceiling, refusing to move.

This was becoming ridiculous.

She had known him for barely a few weeks.

Yet somehow, he had managed to occupy a space in her thoughts that no one else had ever reached.

She remembered the garden.

The silence.

The way he'd admitted that seeing Ethan beside her had bothered him.

Most of all, she remembered the look in his eyes.

It wasn't anger.

It wasn't friendship.

It was something much more dangerous.

Something that made her heart race whenever she thought about it.

Amara grabbed her pillow and covered her face.

"This is a terrible idea."

Her phone buzzed.

She uncovered her face and reached for it.

A message.

Liam.

Liam: Morning.

She stared at the screen.

A smile slowly appeared.

Amara: Morning.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Liam: Did you get home safely last night?

Her smile softened.

Amara: Yes. You?

Liam: Eventually.

She frowned.

Amara: Eventually?

There was a pause.

Liam: Had somewhere to be.

Before she could ask where, another message appeared.

Liam: I'll tell you someday.

Amara stared at those words.

Someday.

There it was again.

That invisible wall around him.

He was always friendly.

Always kind.

Always willing to talk.

But whenever the conversation came close to his personal life, he stepped backward.

As if there were parts of himself he couldn't afford to reveal.

Amara typed.

Amara: You know you can tell me things.

The reply came almost immediately.

Liam: I know.

Then:

Liam: That's what scares me.

Amara's heart stopped for half a second.

Before she could respond, another message arrived.

Liam: See you on campus.

Then he disappeared offline.

Amara stared at the screen.

What exactly did he mean?

And why did she suddenly feel as though she had just been given a warning?

---

By lunchtime, Amara had convinced herself not to overthink it.

That lasted approximately twenty minutes.

She found Liam sitting at their usual table beneath the acacia tree.

Their table.

The thought made her smile.

"You're late."

Liam looked up.

"I didn't realize we had a schedule."

"We don't."

"Then I'm not late."

She laughed and sat opposite him.

"You're annoying."

"I've heard that before."

He pushed a small paper cup toward her.

"I got you something."

Amara looked at it.

Coffee.

Her usual order.

She looked back at him.

"How did you know?"

"You order the same thing every time."

"You noticed?"

"Of course."

The simple answer made her chest tighten.

She picked up the cup.

"Thank you."

Liam nodded.

For a few minutes, they simply sat together.

It was comfortable.

Almost too comfortable.

Amara eventually broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

Liam closed his notebook.

"Depends."

"Why architecture?"

He thought for a moment.

Then his expression changed.

Not sadness exactly.

Something deeper.

"My father."

Amara waited.

"He was an architect."

"Was?"

Liam looked toward the campus buildings.

"He died when I was seventeen."

Amara's smile disappeared.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"It doesn't sound okay."

He gave a small smile.

"It isn't."

The honesty surprised her.

Most people said they were fine even when they weren't.

Liam didn't.

He simply carried the pain quietly.

"He was good at what he did," Liam continued. "He designed houses. Small ones. Nothing famous."

"That doesn't make them less important."

He looked at her.

"No."

A small smile appeared.

"He used to tell me that a house wasn't really about walls."

"What was it about?"

"Who you came home to."

Amara looked down at her coffee.

The words stayed with her.

"That's beautiful."

"He believed that."

Liam leaned back.

"After he died, I decided I'd finish what he started."

Amara looked at him.

"That's why you study architecture."

"Partly."

"What's the other part?"

He smiled.

"Maybe I'm still figuring that out."

She nodded.

For the first time, she understood that Liam's dreams weren't simply dreams.

They were connected to grief.

To family.

To something he had lost.

And suddenly his guarded nature made more sense.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?"

"Why are you studying literature?"

Amara hesitated.

She had an answer.

But it wasn't one she usually gave people.

"I like stories."

"That's it?"

"No."

She looked down.

"I like that stories let people become someone else."

Liam listened.

"When I'm reading, I'm not Amara Reyes. I'm not someone's daughter. I'm not the person everyone expects me to be."

Her voice became quieter.

"I'm just me."

Liam's expression softened.

"Then maybe you should write."

She laughed nervously.

"I don't write."

"Why not?"

"My mother doesn't think it's practical."

There.

Another secret.

Not a huge one.

But one she had never said aloud to someone outside her closest circle.

Liam leaned forward.

"What do you want to write?"

Amara smiled.

"Stories about people who choose their own lives."

He stared at her.

"Sounds like something you should do."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe."

His voice was firm.

"You should."

For some reason, his belief in her felt more powerful than years of encouragement from people she knew.

She looked away.

"You're very confident for someone who barely knows me."

"Maybe I know enough."

Their eyes met.

The moment stretched.

Neither spoke.

Then a voice interrupted them.

"Amara?"

She turned.

Ethan stood a few feet away.

His expression was polite.

But his eyes moved toward Liam.

Then back to her.

"Your mother asked me to give you this."

He handed her an envelope.

Amara accepted it.

"What is it?"

"Invitation."

"For?"

"Dinner."

She looked at him.

"With who?"

Ethan smiled.

"Our families."

Amara's stomach dropped.

Of course.

She opened the envelope.

A formal invitation.

Her name.

The Cruz family.

The Reyes family.

And a date.

A date that suddenly felt far too close.

She looked up.

"Thank you."

Ethan nodded.

"I'll see you there."

Then he left.

Silence returned.

But it wasn't the same silence as before.

Amara looked at Liam.

His expression was unreadable.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"You don't look okay."

"I'm fine."

She recognized the words.

The same words she used whenever she didn't want to explain herself.

"Don't lie."

Liam looked at her.

"I'm not."

But he was.

They both knew it.

---

That evening, Amara's mother made the announcement official.

"The Cruz family will arrive at seven."

Amara sat at the dining table.

She had barely touched her food.

"Why is this necessary?"

Victoria didn't look up.

"Because it's time."

"For what?"

"For you to start thinking seriously about your future."

Amara sighed.

"Mom, I'm not marrying someone because our families get along."

"No one said anything about marriage."

The pause afterward said everything.

Amara looked at her mother.

Victoria finally met her eyes.

"Ethan is a good man."

"I'm sure he is."

"His family is respected."

"I know."

"He understands responsibility."

"Good for him."

Victoria's expression hardened.

"Amara."

"What?"

"You need to stop treating this like a game."

"I'm not."

"You've been distracted lately."

Her heart skipped.

"With what?"

"I don't know."

Victoria studied her carefully.

"But I know my daughter."

Amara looked away.

"There's no one."

The lie came too quickly.

Her mother noticed.

But she didn't comment.

Instead, Victoria leaned back.

"Whatever it is, remember who you are."

The words felt heavier than they should have.

"You're a Reyes."

Amara nodded.

"I know."

"You carry our name everywhere."

"I know."

"And there are people who would gladly use you to hurt this family."

Amara's eyebrows drew together.

"What does that mean?"

Victoria's expression changed.

For a moment, genuine fear appeared in her eyes.

Then it disappeared.

"Nothing."

"Mom."

"Just be careful."

Amara stared at her.

"Of what?"

Victoria stood.

"Of people who aren't what they seem."

Then she walked away.

Amara remained at the table.

Her mother's warning echoed in her mind.

People who aren't what they seem.

For some reason, she thought of Liam.

---

Across the city, Liam stood outside a small apartment building.

His phone vibrated.

He looked at the screen.

Unknown number.

He answered.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then a man's voice.

"You've been seen with her."

Liam's expression hardened.

"Who is this?"

"You know exactly who this is."

Liam looked around.

"Leave her out of this."

A low laugh came through the phone.

"That's not your decision."

His grip tightened.

"Don't threaten her."

"I'm not threatening anyone."

The voice paused.

"I'm reminding you of the rules."

Liam said nothing.

"You know what happened to your father."

His jaw tightened.

"Don't mention him."

"Then stay away from the Reyes girl."

Liam closed his eyes.

Amara's face appeared in his mind.

Her smile.

Her laugh.

The way she listened when he talked.

The way she looked at him beneath the garden lights.

"I can't."

The silence on the other end was immediate.

Then—

"You'd better."

The call ended.

Liam lowered the phone.

For several seconds, he didn't move.

He had known this day would come.

He had tried to keep his distance.

Tried to convince himself that Amara was simply another person he had met.

But that was a lie.

He was already attached.

And that was dangerous.

Because Amara didn't know the truth.

She didn't know what connected their families.

She didn't know why he had stayed away from people like her.

She didn't know that his father's death hadn't been as simple as everyone believed.

And most importantly—

She didn't know that the people warning him to stay away from her weren't strangers.

They were people who had been waiting years for an opportunity to settle an old score.

Liam looked up at the night sky.

He knew what he had to do.

Stay away.

Protect her.

End this before it became something neither of them could escape.

His phone buzzed again.

This time, the message was from Amara.

Amara: Are you awake?

He stared at it.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

He should ignore it.

Instead, he replied.

Liam: Yes.

A response came quickly.

Amara: I was thinking about today.

He swallowed.

Liam: Me too.

Amara: I don't know what this is.

Liam stared at the message.

Neither did he.

But he knew what it felt like.

And that was enough to frighten him.

Amara: Do you?

He typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Finally, he sent:

Liam: I think we're getting too close.

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Appeared again.

Amara: Is that what you want?

Liam closed his eyes.

The honest answer was no.

He wanted the opposite.

He wanted to see her tomorrow.

He wanted another conversation beneath the tree.

Another coffee.

Another laugh.

Another moment where the rest of the world disappeared.

But wanting something didn't make it safe.

Liam: I don't know.

Her response took longer this time.

Amara: Neither do I.

Then:

Amara: Goodnight, Liam.

Liam: Goodnight, Amara.

He placed the phone on the table.

But neither of them slept easily that night.

Because somewhere between their conversations, their secrets, and the feelings neither was brave enough to name, something had changed.

They weren't strangers anymore.

They weren't simply friends.

They were becoming something neither family would easily accept.

And neither of them knew the most dangerous secret yet.

Their families had a history.

A history that had already destroyed one life.

And if the truth came out, it might destroy theirs too.