The room was too quiet.
The kind of silence that didn't soothe—it watched.
Amelia stood frozen at the edge of the massive bed, every muscle in her back pulled tight like a drawn bow.
Behind her, the man she once swore to never trust again—was undoing the cuffs of his shirt, slow and calculated.
Her jaw clenched as she refused to turn around.
The air behind her shifted.
She heard the soft rustle of fabric.
A button falling to the floor.
And then—
The mattress dipped.
He sat.
Too close.
She still didn't look.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.Each thud louder than the last.This wasn't just about a bed.It was about surrender.About the war between her instincts and her memories—Between the woman she was now… and the girl who once whispered forever against his lips.
His presence wrapped around her like fog—You couldn't touch it,But it got into your lungs.Slowly.Until it was the only thing you could breathe.
"One night," he said, voice deep and low, almost gentle, "no lies. No weapons. Just you and me, Amelia."
She scoffed, bitter."So this is your version of a truce?"
"No," he murmured, leaning back on one elbow, "this is me remembering how you used to look at me… before the world taught you to run."
She turned around slowly—eyes glassy, but defiant."I don't remember any of that."
He smirked.
"Then let me remind you."
He tapped the empty space beside him.Silk sheets.Faint scent of citrus and ash.The past reeking under the perfume of the present.
She didn't move.Not immediately.But her knees weakened.Not from desire—From the terrifying realization that part of her wanted to believe him.
He reached over.
Not to grab her.
But to pull out an old velvet box from under the pillow.
He opened it.
Inside—A pair of rings.Her initials carved inside one.His inside the other.
"They never canceled our wedding," he said."The fire ruined the church. Not the vow."
Her breath shattered.
And for one stupid second—
She saw herself in white again.