THE PULL YOU DENY
1058 Words
Amara didn't go back the next day.
At least, that was the plan.
Instead, she stayed home, buried under work she didn’t really need to finish that early. She told herself it was discipline. Focus. Priorities.
Not avoidance.
Definitely not avoidance.
But by midday, her phone kept feeling heavier in her hand.
No messages.
No calls.
Nothing from him.
That should have felt like relief.
It didn’t.
“Why are you looking at your phone like it owes you money?” Lara asked during a video call.
Amara frowned. “I’m not.”
“You’ve checked it like ten times in five minutes.”
“I have work to do.”
Lara leaned closer to her screen. “Or someone to avoid?”
Amara’s expression tightened. “There’s no one.”
Lara raised a brow. “Mm-hmm.”
Amara ended the call immediately.
Too fast.
Too defensive.
She hated that Lara could read her that easily.
Meanwhile, across the city, Damian stood in front of a meeting room he had no interest in entering.
His assistant hesitated behind him.
“Sir… the board is waiting.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“Are you coming in?”
Damian’s eyes stayed fixed on his phone.
No notification.
No message.
Nothing.
He lowered it slowly.
“She didn’t come,” he said quietly.
His assistant blinked. “Sir?”
“Yesterday,” Damian added. “She said she wouldn’t come back.”
A brief silence.
Then the assistant carefully said, “Perhaps she meant it.”
Damian looked at him.
That was enough for the assistant to step back slightly.
“…Or not,” he corrected quickly.
But Damian wasn’t listening anymore.
He was already walking away.
By the third day, Amara had convinced herself she had won.
No Damian.
No tension.
No unnecessary irritation.
Just peace.
That should have felt good.
Instead, it felt… too quiet.
“Are you going out today?” Lara asked when she stopped by after work.
“No,” Amara said quickly.
Lara frowned. “You’ve been inside for three days.”
“I like being inside.”
“You used to like being outside too.”
Amara didn’t answer that.
Because she remembered.
She remembered when she used to smile without thinking about it.
Before she learned what it felt like to lose control over her own happiness.
Before people became complicated.
Before him.
Lara watched her carefully. “You’re thinking about something.”
“I’m working.”
“On what? Your laptop is off.”
Amara sighed. “Can you stop analyzing me?”
“I would,” Lara said softly. “If you stopped acting like something is missing.”
That hit too close.
Amara stood up abruptly. “I’m fine.”
Lara didn’t argue.
But her expression said she didn’t believe her.
That same evening, Amara finally stepped outside.
Not because she wanted to.
Because staying inside started to feel worse.
The air was cooler than usual.
The street quieter.
She walked without direction, hands tucked into her jacket.
Just movement.
Just space.
Just silence.
Until she felt it.
That strange awareness again.
Like the world had shifted slightly.
Amara slowed.
Looked up.
And stopped.
He was there.
Across the street.
Standing still.
Waiting.
Like he had been there longer than she had noticed.
Her breath caught instantly.
Anger followed quickly after.
“You’re unbelievable,” she called out.
Damian didn’t move.
Didn’t smile.
Didn’t even look surprised.
He simply crossed the street.
Slow.
Controlled.
Like he had all the time in the world.
“I told you not to come back,” she said sharply when he reached her.
“I didn’t come to your house,” he replied.
“That’s not the point.”
“It is.”
Amara scoffed. “Why are you here?”
A pause.
Then—
“You didn’t show up,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “So?”
“So I came to see why.”
That was it.
No apology.
No explanation.
Just… certainty.
Amara shook her head slightly. “You don’t do normal things, do you?”
“I don’t do uncertainty well,” he said.
“Neither do I,” she replied instantly.
A faint silence.
Then his gaze shifted slightly.
“Yet you’re still standing here talking to me.”
That made her pause.
Just a second too long.
She recovered quickly. “I’m leaving.”
She turned.
But his voice stopped her again.
Not loud.
Not forceful.
Just calm.
“Why do you run when I’m near you?”
Amara froze.
Slowly turned back.
Her expression hardened. “I don’t run from you.”
A beat.
Then he said quietly—
“Then what do you call avoiding someone for three days?”
That landed.
Because it was accurate.
And she hated accurate things.
Amara stepped closer. “I don’t owe you explanations.”
“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”
That confused her again.
He wasn’t pushing.
He wasn’t arguing.
Just observing.
And somehow, that felt worse.
“Then stop showing up,” she said.
A pause.
Then Damian replied—
“I could.”
Another pause.
Then, softer:
“I just don’t want to.”
Silence.
That shouldn’t have meant anything.
It did.
Amara looked away quickly, annoyed at the way her chest tightened.
“This is pointless,” she muttered.
“Everything feels pointless when you avoid it long enough,” he said.
Her eyes snapped back to him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
A faint shift in his expression.
Not anger.
Not amusement.
Something quieter.
“I think,” he said slowly, “you notice me more than you admit.”
That irritated her instantly.
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why,” he asked calmly, “do you always look at me first?”
Silence.
Amara opened her mouth—
Closed it again.
Because she didn’t have an answer she liked.
And Damian… just waited.
Like he already knew she didn’t.
For the first time, Amara felt something unfamiliar settle between them.
Not hatred.
Not attraction.
Something in between.
Dangerously unclear.
And that scared her more than anything else so far.
Because hate was simple.
But whatever this was…
was starting to feel like it was learning her name.
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