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The Fallout
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2025-11-14 08:04:57Amara’s POV
The city devoured stories like wildfire — and this one burned hotter than most.“Cruz Holdings in Turmoil.”“Damian Cruz Removed Amid Leadership Dispute.”Every headline said the same thing: the once–untouchable Damian Cruz had finally fallen.Amara stood in front of her office window, her phone buzzing endlessly with alerts. Outside, the skyline looked unchanged — steady, bright, indifferent — but everything beneath it had shifted.She’d watched it unfold in real time. Security guards escorting Damian out of his own building. Board members pretending not to see. And Sophia Alaric standing in the middle of it all like she’d just won a war she never admitted starting.Now Sophia was everywhere — polished interviews, flawless PR statements, a new face of “stability.” Smiling for the cameras as if she’d saved the company instead of gutting it.> “We’re not dismantling Damian’s legacy,” Sophia said on-screen,
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Amara’s POVThe office feels different today.Not heavy. Not tense. Not stretched to its breaking point the way it had been for weeks.Just… quiet.Ethan’s transfer request was approved this morning. The news slipped through the halls like a soft breeze—small whispers, brief questions, concerned glances.Where is he going?When is he leaving?Is he okay?I didn’t answer any of them.Because I was still figuring out how to breathe in the space he left behind.But the strangest thing wasn’t the emptiness.It was the calm that followed.A quiet that wasn’t painful or uncertain anymore. A quiet that felt like a beginning instead of an ending.Maybe that’s why, when Damian stopped beside my desk at noon and asked, “Want to take a break? ”—I didn’t overthink it.I just nodded.---We end up on the rooftop. Not the dramatic version where people break down or confess life-altering truths… even though we’d done all of that here before.Today, it’s just a place touched by soft wind and kind sun
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Ethan’s POVI didn’t expect goodbyes to feel like fading out of my own life.For days, I’ve been drifting through the office like a ghost—quiet steps, quick nods, avoiding anything that lasts longer than a polite exchange. People notice, of course. They always do. They just don’t ask.Except Lydia.She’s leaning against the pantry counter when I walk in, coffee in hand, looking half awake and fully judgmental. Her eyes track me before I even reach for a mug.“You look like someone unplugged your soul,” she says.Classic Lydia.I force a smile that feels thin. “I’m fine.”“Which is exactly what people say when they’re absolutely not fine.”I don’t respond. Lydia watches me for a moment, then sighs into her cup like the weight of my emotional crisis personally inconveniences her.“Just… don’t disappear without telling her,” she mutters.My hand tightens around the mug. “I’m not disappearing.”She hums. “That’s what you think.”She leaves before I can answer, and the silence she leaves b
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Damian’s POVI’m not sure why she chose the rooftop.Maybe because it’s quiet.Maybe because it’s where she goes when she needs space.Or maybe—maybe—because whatever she’s about to say will crack something open, and the open sky feels safer than four walls.Either way, my steps feel heavier with every stride.Because for the first time since meeting her—since arguing with her, wanting her, falling stupidly and recklessly fast for her—I’m preparing myself to lose.When I push open the rooftop door, she’s standing near the railing, arms wrapped around herself, wind tugging at her hair. She looks small, fragile even—but the pull she has on me is anything but.She turns when she hears me. The look in her eyes—uncertainty, guilt, pain—hits like a punch.“Damian,” she says quietly.Just my name in her voice tightens something in my chest.“I came as soon as you called,” I answer, keeping my tone level even though nothing inside me feels steady. “What’s wrong?”She swallows. “I… I need to b
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Amara’s POVIf someone had told me a month ago that I would be stuck between two people I care about — two people who care about me — I would’ve laughed and said that was impossible.I’m not the type women in stories are modeled after.I’m the “safe” one.The reliable one.The one who fixes chaos, not creates it.But now?Now I am the chaos.Because Ethan’s confession — his quiet voice, his shaking honesty, the way he said It was always you — hasn’t stopped echoing in my chest for a single second.And I don’t know how to carry that.I don’t know how to carry him.---I’ve been floating through the office all day, pretending I’m fine, pretending I can breathe normally even though my heart keeps stumbling over itself.And everywhere I look, I see traces of them.Ethan’s mug still sitting on the pantry counter.Damian’s jacket draped over his chair.They’re both here, everywhere, in ways I never realized mattered until now.And somehow, without meaning to, I’ve become the center of somet
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Ethan’s POVI didn’t expect this moment to feel like drowning.But standing outside the conference room where Amara has been working for hours—shoulders tight, hair pulled into that messy knot she only makes when she’s overwhelmed—I feel every unsaid word pressing against my chest like stones.I’ve rehearsed this a hundred times.I’ve backed out a hundred more.But today… after seeing her walk through the office like a ghost, after watching her avoid both me and Damian like we’re fire she can’t even breathe near—I know one thing with painful clarity:I can’t run anymore.She deserves the truth.Even if it breaks me.I exhale shakily and knock on the door before my courage disappears.There’s a pause—long enough for doubt to claw at me—then a soft, tired voice:“Come in.”I step inside.She looks up, startled. “Ethan?”No anger. No rejection. Just confusion… and exhaustion. Somehow, that makes everything hurt more.“Hey,” I say quietly, closing the door behind me.She sets her pen down
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