ch3: confrontation
674 Words
She stared at it for what felt like eternity, then carefully she locked the phone as if it might explode if she moved too fast.
Amara rose from the bed, and placed Ethan’s phone back exactly where it had been, aligning it perfectly with the edge of the table.
If someone walked in, they wouldn’t know or see anything out of place. Just like before.
She stepped out into the hallway.
Amara walked slowly toward the living room, her bare feet making no sound against the floor. Her gaze moved across the space, the couch, the table, the kitchen beyond.
Maya had stood there earlier, smiling and pouring tea, saying “I’ll always be here.”
Amara let out a soft breath. “Always,” she repeated to herself.
Amara walked toward the kitchen, her fingers lightly grazing against the counter as she walked.
This was the spot where Maya stood.
Ethan's footsteps pulled her attention; she turned slightly, her gaze shifting to him. He stopped when he saw her standing there. There was a brief pause.
Ethan studied her for a second longer than usual, like he was trying to read something he couldn’t quite place.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Amara tilted her head slightly. “Yes,” she replied
And she meant it.
Ethan walked past her toward the kitchen, reaching for a glass. Amara turned slowly to face him.
“How did your meeting go?” she inquired.
He didn’t hesitate. “It was fine."
Amara watched him take a sip of water, her expression unchanged. “I’m glad,” she said softly.
Ethan set the glass down, glancing at her again.
“You should get some rest,” he suggested.
Amara nodded. “I will.” But she didn’t move, neither did he. For a moment, they just stood there, facing each other. Two people in the same space, living two completely different truths. Then Amara spoke. “Ethan.”
He looked at her. “Yes?"
She held his gaze. “Are you happy?”
Ethan hesitated, he wasn’t expecting that. His eyes searched hers, trying to understand what she was really asking.
“What kind of question is that?” he shot back, a hint of confusion in his voice. Amara didn’t look away. Ethan let out a soft breath. "We're fine, Amara."
He didn’t say I’m happy; He said we’re fine. Amara gave a small nod. “I see.”
She turned away first walking past him, heading back toward the bedroom. Ethan watched her go.
Inside the bedroom, Amara gently closed the door behind her. She stood there for a moment, leaning against the door, her eyes closing briefly in silence. Then she opened her eyes and walked over to the closet.
The closet light flicked on.
Amara stepped inside, her fingers gliding over past rows of neatly arranged clothes. Dresses, coats, shoes; everything meticulously organized, untouched by chaos.
Just like her life had looked from the outside.
Perfect and a facade.
She reached for a suitcase.
Not the largest nor the smallest, but just the right size.
Amara set it on the bed and slowly unzipped it, the sound cutting through the silence. She began packing one dress after another, along with essentials.
Nothing that required memory.
Her hands moved with precision, folding each item neatly, placing it inside. She paused when her fingers touched a small box tucked at the back of the drawer. Amara stared at it for a moment, then she opened it.
Inside: Tiny baby socks, unused, still new, still waiting.
She picked them up gently, holding them in her palm.
Years of hope.
Reduced to something that could fit in her hand.
Amara placed them back in the box, closed it and left it there. “No,” she whispered softly.
Not taking them. Not carrying that burden with her.
She returned to packing faster now.
The sound of the bedroom door creaking open didn't startle her. Ethan stood there, watching. His gaze moved from her… to the suitcase.
- Writer
