The cold night air nipped at Amara's skin as she stood amidst the wreckage of her belongings. The world around her had collapsed yet again, and the sharp sting of betrayal and despair weighed heavy on her chest. Her fingers trembled as she tried to gather some of her clothes from the ground, but her limbs felt weak, drained from the battle she had just fought.
"Amara?"
A voice. A familiar voice.
She turned sharply, her tear-stained face catching the dim glow of the streetlight. A woman stood a few steps away, concern etched on her delicate features. Leah.
"Leah?" Amara's voice cracked, raw from unshed sobs.
Leah rushed toward her, her eyes darting from the scattered belongings to Amara's shaken frame. "What happened?"
A sob escaped Amara's lips, and she shook her head. "They threw me out… I have nowhere to go."
Leah's face tightened with anger as she turned to the landlord. "How could you do this to her?"
"She hasn't paid rent. It's as simple as that," the landlord said coldly, crossing his arms. "I have a business to run."
Amara clenched her fists, humiliation burning through her veins. Leah took a deep breath, looking back at Amara. "Come with me."
Amara hesitated. "I… I don't want to be a burden."
Leah scoffed. "You were my best friend in university, You are not a burden, Amara. Now, pick up whatever you can, and let's go."
The warmth in Leah's voice cracked something inside Amara, and for the first time that night, she felt a glimmer of relief. She grabbed a few essentials while Leah helped her, then followed her friend into the quiet night.
Leah's house was everything Amara's world was not—warm, safe, and welcoming. A soft golden glow illuminated the cozy living room, and the scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Leah had always been independent, living alone in a house she had inherited from her parents. It was a stark contrast to Amara's turbulent life.
"Sit down," Leah said gently as she led Amara inside. She disappeared for a moment and returned with a blanket, draping it over Amara's shivering shoulders. "You're freezing."
Amara bit her lip, her throat tight. "Thank you."
Leah waved her off. "Don't even start. You would do the same for me." She stood up. "Let me get you something to eat."
Amara sank into the couch, her hands gripping the edges of the blanket as a fresh wave of exhaustion hit her. Leah soon returned with a plate of warm food and set it in front of her.
"Eat," she instructed, sitting beside her.
Amara hesitated, her fingers twitching. "Leah… I need to pay my university fee. I have no money left."
Leah reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope, pressing it into Amara's hands. "Take this."
Amara's eyes widened, and she immediately shook her head. "I can't take your money."
Leah sighed. "Then consider it a loan. You can pay me back when you get back on your feet."
Tears welled in Amara's eyes, but she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't know how to thank you."
Leah smiled. "Just eat, rest, and stop trying to carry the world alone."
Later that night, Amara lay curled up in the guest room, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the room pressed down on her, amplifying the storm inside her mind. She felt empty, like a ghost of the woman she once was.
Her phone buzzed.
Her heart skipped.
With shaky fingers, she grabbed it, staring at the screen. It was him. Her mystery man.
She hesitated for only a second before answering. "Hello?"
"You're crying." His voice was smooth, deep, knowing.
Amara sucked in a sharp breath. "I… I don't know why I'm still alive."
Silence.
Then, his voice, firm and unwavering, filled the void. "Don't say that."
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Everything is falling apart. I fought so hard, but I lost. I lost everything."
"No, you didn't."
She let out a broken laugh. "Oh? Then tell me, what do I have left?"
"Your strength."
Amara pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. "Strength? If I was strong, I wouldn't be here, crying like a child."
"You're human, Amara. Even warriors cry."
Her breath hitched. "I can't do this anymore."
"Yes, you can." His voice was softer now, almost gentle. "And you will. Because you are not someone who gives up."
Her lips trembled. "You don't even know me."
"I know you more than you think."
A shiver ran down her spine. "Why… why do you even care?"
A pause. Then, his voice, raw with something she couldn't quite place. "Because I see you."
Her chest tightened painfully. "Then why won't you tell me who you are?"
He exhaled, as if battling an internal war. "Because some things are better left unknown."
Amara clenched the blanket around her. "That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair."
She let out a bitter chuckle. "Tell me something I don't know."
There was a long silence before he spoke again, his voice low. "You will rise from this, Amara."
A tear slipped down her cheek. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know a survivor when I see one."
Her throat ached from holding back sobs. "And what if I don't want to survive?"
His voice turned hard. "Then you're lying to yourself."
Amara closed her eyes, exhaustion weighing on her like a heavy chain. "I'm tired."
"Then sleep," he murmured. "I'll be here."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Amara let herself believe in the comfort of his words. Even if they were temporary, even if he was a mystery, for now, she would hold on to them.
And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't feel so alone.
The morning light crept in through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden patterns across the room. Amara stirred in the warm bed, the unfamiliar comfort momentarily confusing her. Then it all came rushing back—the eviction, the humiliation, Leah's kindness, and the call from her mystery man. She blinked away the remnants of sleep, her heart heavy yet slightly steadier than the night before.
A gentle knock on the door made her sit up. Before she could answer, Leah's bright face peeked inside, her smile warm and welcoming.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Leah chirped, holding a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of toast. "I figured you could use a little pick-me-up before we head to university."
Amara managed a small smile, touched by Leah's kindness. "You didn't have to…"
"Oh, please," Leah scoffed, setting the tray on the bedside table. "You'd do the same for me."
Amara swallowed the lump in her throat. Would she? She had spent so long fighting her battles alone, she had almost forgotten what true friendship felt like.
Leah sat beside her on the bed and nudged her shoulder. "I also picked out some clothes for you. Nothing fancy, just something comfortable. It's on the dresser. I'll be downstairs when you're ready."
Amara nodded, unable to find words that could express the gratitude swelling in her chest. As Leah left, she took a deep breath and reached for the coffee, letting its warmth spread through her. It was a small moment of solace in the storm of her life.
The drive to university was filled with light conversation. Leah did most of the talking, filling the space with updates about university gossip and upcoming exams. Amara listened, appreciating the normalcy. For the first time in days, she wasn't drowning in fear and uncertainty.
However, the moment they reached campus, something felt different. The air buzzed with excitement, students clustered in groups, talking animatedly. Banners and posters were plastered everywhere, featuring the name and image of a powerful business mogul.
"What's all this?" Amara asked, eyeing the grand displays.
Leah grinned. "Big news! Some of the top businessmen in the country are coming today to give a lecture. There's also a special offer for the brightest students—a chance to work with one of their companies. It's huge, Amara. Everyone's thrilled."
Amara nodded, taking in the vibrant energy around her. It should have been uplifting, a moment of motivation. But instead, something uneasy curled in her stomach. She pushed the feeling aside and walked towards the lecture hall with Leah.
And then she saw him.
Rafael.
He stood near the stage, his sharp suit pristine, his posture commanding. His presence was magnetic, drawing attention effortlessly. Students whispered around them, in awe of him. He wasn't one of the visiting businessmen, but he was clearly involved in the event, overseeing the arrangements with his usual cold efficiency.
The moment his eyes met hers, the air crackled with something indescribable. His gaze darkened, lips pressing into a firm line. Amara's fingers curled into fists as a deep, burning resentment ignited within her.
He was here.
After everything, he still had the audacity to appear in her space, acting as if he hadn't tried to break her the night before.
Rafael's jaw clenched, and without breaking eye contact, he took a step forward. Amara held her ground, refusing to look away.
"Leah," Amara said softly, never shifting her gaze. "You go ahead. I'll be right there."
Leah hesitated, following her line of sight. "Amara—"
"I'll be fine."
Leah bit her lip before nodding reluctantly and walking ahead.
Now, it was just the two of them.
Rafael reached her, standing mere inches away. "I thought I made myself clear last night." His voice was low, laced with a dangerous edge.
Amara lifted her chin. "And I thought I made myself clear when I refused."
His eyes flashed. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I did what I had to," she replied evenly, though her heart pounded violently.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You're making a mistake."
"No," she whispered, voice steady. "The mistake was ever trusting you."
Something flickered across his face, something unreadable, before his expression hardened. "You think this is over?"
Amara forced a bitter laugh. "With you? Nothing ever is."
Rafael leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "I told you, Amara. I will destroy you if you stand against me."
Fear prickled her spine, but she refused to show it. She had already suffered. Already lost everything. What more could he take?
"You've already done your worst," she said. "And I'm still standing."
His lips curled into something between anger and amusement. "For now."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Amara breathless, her entire body trembling with suppressed rage and something else—something she didn't want to name.
The battle was far from over.