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Amara didn't hate people.
She just didn't trust their reasons for staying.
That was why when Naomi, one of her oldest customers, walked into the shop that afternoon, Amara offered a polite nod but didn't bother to pause her stitching.
Naomi was one of the few customers who had been coming around for years—always loud, always direct, always believing that everyone's life should be a little fuller, a little warmer.
"You're still sewing like the world is ending tomorrow," Naomi said, dropping into the chair near the table without invitation.
"It pays the bills," Amara replied simply.
"It's not the bills I'm worried about. It's that you'll sew yourself right out of your own life."
Amara's hand paused briefly over the fabric, but she didn't answer. She focused on her thread, pulling it tightly, her expression distant.
Naomi crossed her arms, watching her carefully. "So… you haven't chased that man away yet?"
Amara glanced up, her brow slightly raised. "What man?"
Naomi clicked her tongue in disapproval. "The one who keeps coming around. Tall, always in those sharp suits, asking about a wedding dress like he's the one marrying you."
Amara's voice was steady. "He's just checking on the progress. According to him, his fiancée is quite busy."
Naomi scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "Busy? Too busy to come see her own wedding dress? And yet he's always here? It's odd."
"Maybe he's a meticulous groom."
"Or maybe he's meddling where he shouldn't. I don't trust men like that—they always act like they care until you find out they had another reason all along." Naomi leaned forward. "Don't let people like that get comfortable. They always leave something broken behind."
Amara didn't react, but the words pressed lightly against something buried in her chest.
Naomi shook her head. "Anyway, I just don't like the way he's always around, asking questions. Feels like someone looking for more than just progress reports."
Amara tied off another stitch, her tone distant. "He's engaged."
"Engaged doesn't mean loyal."
" She paused hearing her words, she quite a lot about betrayal, but till replied."
"You're reading too much into it."
"I've been alive longer than you. I know how to read men."
Amara's lips tugged slightly, a ghost of a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Naomi rose, brushing invisible lint off her dress. "Remember, people like him—they drift in, but they never truly stay."
Amara offered a quiet nod, and Naomi left the shop without another word.
Not long after, the door creaked open again. Amara looked up slowly, expecting another order, another request, another passing face.
But it was him.
Xavier.
Again.
He paused by the entrance, as though unsure if he should keep visiting this place so frequently.
"You're here again," Amara said, her voice calm but edged with curiosity.
Xavier stepped forward, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "I'm just coming from a meeting nearby. Thought I'd drop by… see how things are going."
"You do that a lot."
"Drop by?"
"Check on the dress."
His smile was soft, almost boyish. "It's progressing, right?"
"On schedule," she replied, returning her focus to the delicate stitch in her hand.
Xavier didn't sit this time, but he lingered, watching her work.
"I'm not usually this involved," he said after a moment.
"I noticed."
"Lilian… she's busy."
"That's what you said."
Xavier scratched the back of his neck, unsure why he felt the need to explain himself to someone who barely looked at him. "I guess I just want to make sure everything's perfect. You know… for her."
Amara didn't answer immediately. She finished her stitch, carefully tying the thread before glancing up at him. "Perfection's a heavy expectation."
"Isn't it the whole point of a wedding?"
She thought about that, her eyes briefly softening. "Or maybe it's about accepting what isn't perfect."
Xavier seemed to consider her words. "Maybe."
Silence stretched between them again. Comfortable, but with a slight edge neither of them could name.
"Do you always stay this late working?" he asked.
Amara shrugged. "It's quiet. People don't talk so much when the day's almost over."
"People don't talk so much around you, period."
"Good," she said flatly.
He smiled. "You're difficult."
"You're persistent."
"I guess that makes us even."
Amara didn't smile, but her silence wasn't as cold this time.
"You should go," she said finally.
"Why? Kicking me out already?"
"No," she said simply. "I just thought you'd have somewhere else to be."
Xavier held her gaze a second longer than necessary. "Not really."
Without another word, he turned and pushed the door open, leaving with the same quiet grace he always carried.
Amara stared at the spot where he had stood. Naomi's words floated back to her.
'People like him—they drift in, but they never truly stay.'
And yet… he kept returning.
That was his mistake.
They always stop coming.
Eventually.
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