Amara's POV:
The silence of midnight and the thoughts of Vihaan are eating me alive. No matter how tough, I try to act in front of everyone, but everything collapses the moment I look at him. No matter how hard I try to act unbothered by his actions, the moment I saw him today, I wanted to talk to him, wanted an explanation.
The house was still, every clock tick loud enough to count.Sleep wouldn't come. Vihaan's last words replayed until they lost shape, a dull ache instead of a memory.
I turned on my side, then back again, but the emptiness only pressed harder.A breath of cedar drifted from the closet—faint, familiar.The old box.
It had sat there since the night everything ended, a gift from my mother's trembling hands. Someday you'll need this, she'd whispered, her eyes too bright for the hospital lights. I'd promised not to open it until I was ready.Was I ready?Probably not. But the ache wouldn't let me stay still.
The box waited beneath a blanket of dust. My fingers left trails as I pulled it free. The brass latch clicked softly, like it had been holding its breath.
Inside lay fragments of another life: a faded scarf smelling of her perfume, photographs curled at the edges, a seashell I'd once collected with Dad.Beneath them—an envelope. Cream paper, sealed, my mother's handwriting looping across it.My heart skipped.
A smaller bundle slipped free: a USB drive, wrapped in tissue as if it mattered more than anything else inside.And a torn page from her journal, words half-smeared but urgent:If anything happens to us, remember the name S—The rest blurred into nothing.
A tremor climbed my spine.This wasn't a random keepsake.This was a message.
I blinked until the letters steadied, but the truth wouldn't settle.Had they known?Was the accident never an accident?
Tears prickled. "Mom… what were you trying to tell me?"The room did not answer, only the slow thud of my heart.
I slid the USB into my pocket and tucked the envelope into the drawer beside my bed.A floorboard creaked in the hallway—too sharp, too sudden.I held my breath until silence returned.
The box closed with a soft snap.Tomorrow, I'd find out what was on that drive.Whatever the name beginning with S meant, whatever secret my mother tried to leave me—I'd learn it.
Vihaan's POV:
It's morning, and I have never felt this heavy in the early morning, not even when Ama was in a different city. It became a habit to talk to her, or just to call her and listen to her. In these two years, whenever I felt tired, Ama was my home. To whom I shared all my things, and miraculously, she always had some solution. Maybe this time also, but this time I can't risk her life at all. Even if I die in this crazy game, I just want her to at least know how much I love her, care for her.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts when suddenly my phone rang.
"Ready for a shock, crazy lawyer." Noah is always cheerful about his discovery.
"You found something?" I asked, although I know it's impossible for him not be able to get what he wants.
"Say everything, and if you want to know, then come to the old building as always," he said and hung up the phone.
The old building smelled of dust and rust, sunlight slanting through the cracked windows. This was our safe zone, where secrets didn't leak and no one asked questions.
Noah was already pacing, laptop open on the hood of an abandoned car.
"Ready for a shock?" he said, smirking, but his eyes were serious.
"You found something?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew the truth.
"Yeah," he said. "And it's ugly. You know Ama's parents weren't outsiders, right?"
I didn't answer. I had known that Emma and James Salvatore were her parents — the family bloodline, the reason Liam could manipulate everything.
Noah clicked through images: bank transfers, old family photographs, and security reports. "Emma's death… it wasn't an accident. It was planned. Someone followed her that night. Witness reports say she was attacked — right in front of Ama."
A cold surge ran through me. I remembered Ama's haunted expression, the silence she carried, the tiny tremble when she mentioned that night.
"And her father?" I asked, voice low.
"The trail's murky. He disappeared soon after. No one knows for sure what happened, but the records suggest he tried to fight back. And Liam… her uncle… he's tangled in it all. Someone in his circle made sure Emma didn't leave anyone alive to testify."
I swallowed hard. Protecting Ama had never felt more urgent.
"Maybe her father is still alive?" I asked, as her father's death is not disclosed. Even Ama was saying she saw her Mom that day, but not her father.
"She doesn't know the full truth yet," Noah said, voice quiet. "And if Liam ever realizes she's getting close… it won't just be the Salvatore fortune she's in danger of losing."
"I know," I said. "And I won't let her find out the hard way. Not until I can be sure she's safe, and I have the proof to take down every one of them."
Noah nodded, closing the laptop. "I'll keep digging. You… keep her alive."
I clenched my fists. "Always."
We soon left the spot, and I was still in a vague thought of how I could keep her safe when I was not even around her.
I went to her favourite cafe, where she used to always visit, and sat at a cornered table. The door hangings again chimed, but I didn't bother to look who it was. I noticed only when my coffee arrived and I looked up, just to see Ama sitting across a few tables, lost in her own thoughts. She looks tired, sleepless. She didn't notice me, and this was the time when I finally realised how distant we had become.
I studied her from afar, my chest tightening with a mix of guilt and longing. Every small gesture—her fingers tracing the rim of the cup, the way her shoulders slumped—spoke volumes. She looked like someone carrying the weight of the world, yet trying to hold herself together.
For a moment, I wanted to get up and cross the distance between us. To tell her everything, to erase the misunderstanding, to take back the pain I'd caused. But I didn't. Not yet. There were things she couldn't know, not until I had the full picture, not until I could guarantee her safety.
Her gaze lifted suddenly, and our eyes met. My breath caught. She didn't flinch, didn't look away. She just held my stare for a heartbeat longer than I was ready for.
She sat across from me, hands clasped tightly around her cup, eyes downcast. "I… I can't stop thinking about you," she said, voice quiet but firm. "And maybe it's stupid, maybe it's reckless, but I love you. I love you enough to risk being hurt again, to risk standing here and facing everything I thought I lost."
I stared at her, the words echoing in my chest. And then I spoke—deliberately, coldly, carefully.
"You shouldn't have come," I said.
Her gaze lifted, startled, hurt flickering in her eyes. "What… what do you mean?"
"I mean," I continued, voice low and steady, "that you've already seen enough of me to know I can't give you what you want. You think there's a reason I keep my distance, but it's simple—you're better off without me."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to mask the tears threatening to spill.
"You… you don't get it," she whispered, almost to herself. "I… I don't care. I love you."
I shook my head. "Love isn't enough. You don't understand what's happening, what's coming. And if you stay close… if you trust me… you'll get hurt worse than you've ever imagined. I can't risk that. Not for anything. Not for anyone."
Her shoulders sagged as she realized she wasn't going to get the explanation she longed for. "So this is it?" Her voice cracked. "You're just… pushing me away? Hurting me because… what? You think it's better for me?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My silence said more than any words ever could.
She stood abruptly, leaving a faint echo of her chair scraping the floor. "I see," she said, her voice trembling but fierce. "I see everything now."
And just like that, she walked away, leaving me staring after her, chest tight, hands curled into fists, knowing I'd caused a wound that might take longer to heal than anything else waiting for us.