The morning after the performance, the city felt different.
London was quieter, though it hadn't really changed. The same buses rushed past her sister's apartment. The same impatient honks echoed through the fogged streets. But for Amira, everything felt... suspended. Like her life was now divided into two timelines — before she looked Noah in the eye again, and after.
She sat on the couch with a steaming cup of chai tea clutched in her hands, her hair still tousled from sleep, her oversized hoodie draped over her legs like armor. Luca had texted her an hour ago — just a simple "Morning, songbird. Want to get lunch?" — but she hadn't replied. Not yet.
Her heart was still too tangled to face anyone. Especially him.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't Luca.
Noah: Can we talk? Please. Just talk.
Amira's fingers hovered over the screen. The audacity of him — reaching out like it hadn't taken him months to acknowledge her pain. Like she hadn't flown across the ocean only to be shattered in a bar full of strangers.
She set the phone face down and stood up, pacing the floor.
Why now? Why again?
When she looked into Luca's eyes the night before, something inside her cracked open. Something real. But Noah's message was like an old song she couldn't stop humming even though it brought nothing but ache.
---
By afternoon, she found herself at the jazz club anyway. The sun was barely beginning to dip, casting a burnished gold through the tall glass windows as the staff buzzed around prepping for the evening crowd.
"Didn't think I'd see you until later," Luca said from the piano, his smile gentle but cautious. "You okay?"
She gave a tired smile. "Define okay."
He patted the bench beside him. "Come play."
She hesitated, then slid down beside him, her fingers dancing along the keys without thought.
"You looked like you were somewhere else last night," he said softly, letting the music fill in the silences.
"I was."
"You want to talk about it?"
She shook her head. "Do you ever feel like your life split in half? Like... you're standing in a memory and the present at the same time?"
He nodded slowly, then stopped playing. "What happened between you and him?"
She didn't flinch at the question. Maybe because it was Luca. Or maybe because she was tired of holding it all in.
"I loved him," she said, staring at her fingers. "Noah. I loved him so much, I planned my life around him. And then he ghosted me. Just—gone. No explanation, no goodbye. And I still can't decide if I want to slap him or beg him to tell me why."
Luca's jaw tightened. "You deserve better than that. You deserve someone who stays."
She looked at him then — really looked — and saw the quiet storm behind his usually calm eyes. He meant it. Every word.
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again.
Noah: Please, Amira. Just one conversation. I need to explain everything. It wasn't what you think.
She stared at the message like it might bite her.
---
That night, she sang like her heart had something to prove.
The crowd was thick, swaying, fully immersed. Her voice wrapped around the notes like silk — heavy, sultry, powerful. But underneath the polished melody, there was a war going on inside her. Every lyric was a confession. Every pause, a hesitation between two lives.
When she stepped off stage, Luca was waiting, a drink in one hand, admiration in his eyes. "You were... incredible."
"I was singing through a battlefield," she replied, breathless.
"You won," he whispered, leaning in.
And for a second — just one — she almost let him kiss her.
Almost.
But then her phone vibrated again, and when she saw Noah's name... the battlefield reset.
Amira stood in front of the café across the Thames, her heart pounding like a second drumbeat in her chest.
Noah was inside. Alone. The same Noah she'd once trusted with her dreams, her body, her love. The same one who vanished like a ghost when all she wanted was to build a future.
Her reflection stared back at her through the glass: tall, poised, her white hair pulled back into a soft wave, her red lipstick a shield. She adjusted the flared sleeve of her black coat and walked in.
Noah stood as soon as she entered.
He looked... different.
His signature brown curls were a little shorter. His jaw sharper, his face slightly tired like he hadn't slept in days. But his eyes — those stormy gray eyes — they were the same. And they lit up when they saw her.
"Amira," he breathed.
She said nothing, dropping her purse into the booth seat as she slid in across from him.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he added.
"Neither was I."
A tense silence stretched between them until she finally said, "You have five minutes. After that, I walk."
Noah swallowed hard. "Fair."
He clasped his hands together, and for the first time in a long time, she saw vulnerability in him. Not the charming, rehearsed kind. The real kind — the kind that didn't hide behind smirks or sugar-coated apologies.
"I didn't mean to ghost you," he started. "I got the role in that West End production, and everything was happening so fast. But then, I got the call — my dad had collapsed."
Amira blinked. "What?"
"I flew back to Vancouver. Emergency open-heart surgery. My mom was a wreck, and I— I couldn't think. I didn't want to pull you into the mess. So I told myself I'd explain everything once it calmed down. But... then it got worse."
"You could have texted," she said quietly. "You could have called. You could have told me anything instead of making me feel like I wasn't even worth a goodbye."
Noah leaned forward, pain etched into his brow. "I know. And I swear, every day I didn't, I hated myself more. But I thought disappearing would hurt you less than watching me fall apart."
"You were wrong."
She looked away, blinking fast. The tears didn't come, but the ache did.
"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said. "But I never stopped loving you."
That broke her.
Not because it was sweet.
Because it was cruel.
"You don't get to say that now," she snapped. "Not after everything. Not after Luca."
Noah flinched. "You and Luca?"
Amira didn't answer. She stood instead.
"Goodbye, Noah."
"Wait, wait—Amira, please." He stood too, reaching for her arm, but she stepped back, voice hardening.
"I came here for closure. You gave me your side. And now I'm walking away with mine."