CHAPTER 9: The Night Doesn't Let You Sleep
1219 Words
The room felt different when I came back.
Same bed. Same soft lighting. Same quiet city outside the glass.
But something had changed.
Or maybe…
I had.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
Too much.
Everything felt like too much.
I kicked off my shoes, not caring where they landed, and walked further in.
“Just sleep,” I muttered to myself. “You need sleep.”
That was the logical thing to do.
The normal thing.
But nothing about tonight was normal.
I sat on the edge of the bed again, staring at nothing.
Then my hand moved on its own.
To my stomach.
Still flat.
Still nothing visible.
But everything had already changed.
“I don’t even know you,” I whispered.
Was I talking to the child?
Or to him?
Maybe both.
A bitter smile touched my lips.
“What kind of life is this going to be…?”
No answer.
Just silence.
I lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come.
Not even close.
Because every time I closed my eyes—
I saw it.
The party.
Daniel’s face.
Lila’s smile.
“You were just… convenient.”
My chest tightened.
“I never loved you.”
The words echoed louder now.
Sharper.
Crueler.
I turned to my side, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
“Stop thinking about it,” I whispered.
But my mind didn’t listen.
Because right behind those memories—
Came another.
Rain.
A car.
Him.
The way he looked at me that night.
The way his hand felt when he caught my wrist.
The way everything blurred after that.
My breath hitched slightly.
“Don’t go there,” I murmured.
But it was already too late.
Fragments came back.
Not clear.
Not complete.
But enough.
The room.
Dim lights.
Wet clothes.
Heavy silence.
The tension.
God…
The tension.
That moment where neither of us moved—
But everything felt like it was about to break.
“You’re shaking.”
His voice.
From that night.
Low.
Closer than it should have been.
“I’m fine…”
“Liar.”
My eyes snapped open.
I sat up abruptly.
“No.”
My heart was racing.
Too fast.
Too loud.
“I’m not doing this,” I said, pushing the blanket off.
I couldn’t stay here.
Not like this.
Not with my thoughts eating me alive.
I stood up and walked toward the window.
The city stretched endlessly below.
Bright.
Alive.
Unreachable.
“So many people,” I whispered.
“And I’ve never felt more alone.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Silence answered.
Of course it did.
I wrapped my arms around myself again.
Then—
A soft knock.
My body froze.
No.
Not again.
“Amara.”
His voice.
Of course.
“What?” I called out, my voice quieter this time.
A pause.
“You’re not asleep.”
“That’s not your concern.”
Another pause.
Then—
“Open the door.”
I let out a tired breath.
“No.”
“Amara.”
“I said no.”
Silence.
Then—
“You’re crying.”
My chest tightened.
“I’m not—”
“Open the door.”
My grip tightened around my arms.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Then don’t.”
That made me hesitate.
“What?”
“Just open the door.”
I frowned slightly.
“This is weird.”
“I know.”
“…you’re not leaving, are you?”
“No.”
Of course not.
I stared at the door.
This was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
But somehow…
Standing here alone felt worse.
Slowly…
I walked over.
Paused.
Then opened it.
He was there.
Of course he was.
Same as before.
Calm.
Unreadable.
But his eyes—
They moved over my face quickly.
Not in a way that felt invasive.
More like…
Checking.
“You’re not sleeping,” he said.
“No.”
A pause.
“Come sit.”
I blinked.
“Where?”
“Anywhere that’s not in your head.”
That…
Was unexpectedly accurate.
I hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
He walked in.
Just like that.
Like this was normal.
Like he belonged here.
Maybe he did.
I closed the door slowly.
“You do this with everyone?” I asked, leaning against the wall.
“No.”
“Just me?”
“Yes.”
That didn’t help.
“Why?”
A pause.
Then—
“You know why.”
My chest tightened.
“Because of the child?”
Silence.
Then—
“Partly.”
Partly.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said calmly, “you’re not just a situation to solve.”
My breath caught.
That wasn’t what I expected.
“Then what am I?” I asked quietly.
He looked at me.
Really looked this time.
And for a second—
Everything else faded.
The room.
The noise.
The thoughts.
Just him.
“You’re a problem,” he said finally.
I blinked.
“…wow.”
A pause.
Then—
“One I’m not ignoring.”
That landed differently.
I didn’t know why.
Silence settled again.
But this time…
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just… there.
“You’re bad at this,” I said after a moment.
“At what?”
“Talking to people.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t say things normally.”
“Maybe I don’t need to.”
I huffed a small laugh.
“You’re exhausting.”
“I’ve been told.”
Another pause.
Then—
“Come here.”
I stiffened.
“Why?”
“You’re shaking again.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Damn it.
I crossed my arms tighter.
“I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Then stop being it.”
God.
I hesitated.
Then—
Against my better judgment—
I walked closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t reach out.
Just watched.
“See?” I said. “I’m fine.”
A pause.
Then—
“Stay.”
My breath caught.
“Stay where?”
“Here.”
Silence.
Something shifted again.
That same tension.
Low.
Dangerous.
Unspoken.
“I’m not staying with you,” I said quickly.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
A beat.
“That you don’t have to go back to being alone right now.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s not the same thing,” I whispered.
“No,” he said.
“It’s not.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
And for the first time…
I understood something.
This wasn’t about control.
Not entirely.
And it wasn’t just about the child.
There was something else here.
Something neither of us was saying.
Because once we said it…
There would be no taking it back.
I took a slow breath.
Then—
Very carefully—
I sat down.
Not next to him.
But not far either.
And for the first time since this all started…
I didn’t feel like I was drowning.
Not completely.
And that scared me.
Because it meant something was changing.
Something I wasn’t ready for.
And the worst part?
I wasn’t sure I wanted it to stop.
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