CHAPTER FOUR – A THOUSAND UNSAID GOODBYES

After the fake FBI agents left, my eyes were wide open even in the dead of the night when others fell into a deep sleep, I couldn't close my eyes for a split second and neither could Jace.

We sat in my dining room, both of us enjoying the deep silence as our backs were against the wall and we could almost feel the adrenaline humming in the space between us. The sound of the firm knock and professional voices still resonated deeply in my ears.

Even when Jace had said that they were not FBI agents, my gut chose to believe otherwise but I couldn't do anything about it so I sat with him, frozen, barely breathing till we heard their footsteps fading away.

"I am telling you, these people are not agents," Jace whispered to me. "Real agents do not look like that. These ones were sent to kill me, or worse kill us."

Yeah, their note made it very obvious and now, all we could do was to hide in plain sight.

When morning came, the tension in the room had soften a bit but still, none of us could sleep. My eyes followed Jace as he stood up to make coffee and I stared at him like he was doing the most fascinating thing in the world. No matter how much I tried, I could not lie to myself.

Jace was one hell of a fine man.

“Why did you help me?” he asked, voice rough, interrupting my thoughts.

I stood up from the floor and went to get the cup of coffee that he extended to me. "I dont really know. Lets just say that I probably saw myself in you."

I moved to the sofa to sit, somehow the cold floor had crippled my bones and I needed something soft to lay on. As I sat down, I saw Jace standing behind me.

"Sneaky much?" I asked and he just laughed and took a seat right next to me.

Moving closer I heard him say, "Amara, I wont lie to you. I really can't remember anything but when I look at you," he traced his fingers along my face and the warm sensation it brought to my skin made it difficult for me to kick his hand away, " I feel safe, complete even. With you feels like where I am meant to be."

My heart tripped over itself. It wasn’t the words that got me. It was the look. That raw, unguarded vulnerability I hadn’t seen in anyone for years.

"I cant help myself Amara. I constantly think about you, even when I am not supposed to," he added

I tried to move back to maybe reduce my trembling and I said in a low voice, "then stop thinking."

"You don't think I have tried?!" He said desperately. "I have but I can't. I just want to hold you in my arms, to protect you, to kiss you, " his voice got low with every demand till finally he drew near and kissed me.

Gentle at first, then like he needed it to breathe. It wasn’t a fairytale kiss. It was messy, breathless, clumsy with emotion. But it felt right. Like two broken things finding a temporary fit.

Over the next few days, we developed a rhythm. He would fix the creaky windows and if his shirt got torn, I would ignore the warmth in my body and stitch them up for him. On some days, he would sit on the floor and watch me with fascinating eyes as I would sort through the dusty books that I had not touched in so many years.

He asked questions like what were my favourite movies, what my childhood looked like and how I got the scar on my left wrist. To respond, I would ask him about the things that he could not seem to remember.

"I dont know how but everytime I close my eyes, I keep seeing this boardroom. Standing in that board room is a woman, dark glasses with red lipstick yelling at me.'

"Who is she?" I'd ask.

"No idea," he responded. "But I think I hated her or maybe I even loved her. I have no idea."

The thought of him liking someone else made my stomach crawl but I could not let him know that so instead I just coughed and pushed it aside.

I noticed something else about him. It would appear that for everytime he remembered something, he would flinched like it hurt. As if the memories came with barbed wires and everytime he remembered something, I could feel him changing.

By the end of the week, he had completely stopped sleeping in the same room with me.

"Babe, can you come to bed please?" I begged.

"Not tonight. I'm restless again and I dont want to wake you," he would say while avoiding my gaze.

I could tell he was lying. He barely touched his food and each time he would go out, he would stay for hours instead of running back home to my arms. But the one that hurt most was that he stopped calling me Mara.

His silence was ripping me apart and I needed answers. I got them the next morning. He stood in the kitchen, shirt half buttoned and his eyes, dead cold. I have not seen such expressions on his face before.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He turned slowly. “You want answers? Fine. I think I remember who I am.”

I blinked. “What? You… remember?”

He nodded. “Not everything. But enough. Enough to know I don’t belong in this place, in this life. With you.”

He stared at me like I was a stranger. “This was a mistake.”

I froze, "what?" Was all I could mutter out.

“You were a distraction. I can’t afford distractions.”

I didn't know exactly what he meant but his words cut like a knife. "Jace, you don't mean that, " I said , trying to force a smile.

"Stop fucking calling me that. My name is Liam!" He screamed and I recoiled. "Look, I should have left after you pulled me from that car. This was a complete waste of my time, time that you are not worth."

Tears burned my eyes. “Why are you saying this? Is it something I did?”

“No. It’s who you are. You are a nobody, a reject of society. I am nothing like you. I am a king in my kingdom and I cannot be with someone as pathetic as you."

I slapped him then — not out of rage, but heartbreak. “I loved you. You said you loved me.”

He scoffed. “I don’t even know what love means.” And then he walked out.

No apology. No backward glance. Just silence.

I could not move from the position he left me in, could not even utter a single word and so I fell to my knees and cried myself to sleep on the cold hard floor. By the time I woke up, the ring he gave me sat on the table, he didn't take it.

By noon, I knew he would never come back. I didn't just cry, I was shattered. Still, it seemed as if fate was not done playing with me. A few hours later after having thrown up for the 10th time that morning, I was standing at a drugstore bathroom staring at the two pink lines as my brain screamed, "how can I be pregnant?"

And not just pregnant, I was carrying the child of a man who left me broken. I laid on the floor begging God to bring him back. God must have heard my prayers cause almost immediately, he called.