Chapter Twenty-Nine - Emotionally Wet

I knocked softly before opening the door, even though I already knew she was inside.

Amara was curled on the edge of the bed like she didn’t quite trust it to hold her, arms wrapped around her middle, shoulders shaking. She looked up when she heard me, eyes red and glossy, mascara smudged beneath them.

“Oh,” she said weakly. “Hey.”

My chest tightened.

“Hey,” I replied, closing the door behind me. “I came to check on you.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Figures. I storm off like a dramatic idiot and then immediately fall apart.”

I crossed the room and sat beside her, close enough to feel the cold radiating off her skin. Not metaphorical cold. Real cold—like she’d been standing outside in winter too long.

“What’s going on?” I asked gently.

She scrubbed at her face. “I don’t know. I hate this. I hate feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m drowning,” she snapped—and then immediately winced. “Sorry. I don’t mean at you. I just—everything feels too big. My feelings feel too loud. Too heavy. And Lucian just keeps telling me to breathe and ‘center myself’ like that fixes anything.”

I snorted despite myself. “Of course he does.”

She shot me a watery glare. “Do not defend him.”

“I wasn’t,” I said quickly. “Just… yeah. That tracks.”

She exhaled, shoulders slumping. “It started when I connected with him. Like—really connected. And he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t feel it the same way. He’s calm. Controlled. And I’m over here losing my damn mind.”

I tilted my head, studying her. “Okay, very important question.”

She groaned. “If you ask me if I’m pregnant—”

“Worse,” I said. “Are you on your period?”

She stared at me for a second.

Then barked out a laugh. “No! God. No. And that’s the problem—it’s not that. This isn’t hormonal. This is… elemental.”

Well. That was new.

“I feel like I’m going to burst,” she whispered. “Or spill. Or flood. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

I didn’t think. I just leaned in and wrapped my arms around her.

She stiffened for half a second before melting into me, forehead pressing against my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was overwhelmed and I took it out on you.”

She sniffed. “I was mean. And judgy. And projecting. I’m sorry too.”

We stayed like that for a moment—breathing, grounding.

Then—

WHAM.

Cold hit me like a truck.

I gasped as something drenched me from head to toe, my shirt instantly clinging to my skin, hair plastered to my face. Water dripped down my nose, my eyelashes, the hem of my shorts.

I stumbled back, sputtering. “What the—Amara!”

She froze, eyes wide, hands lifted like she’d just committed a crime.

“I—I didn’t mean to!” she said, then looked down at her hands, horrified. “Oh my god.”

Water pooled across the floor, spreading outward in a shallow wave.

We stared at each other.

Then she blinked.

And blinked again.

And then—

She started laughing.

Not polite laughter. Not nervous laughter.

Full-on, bent-over, snorting laughter.

I looked down at myself—soaked, dripping, hair ruined—and something inside me cracked.

I started laughing too.

“Are you kidding me?” I wheezed. “You literally dumped a bucket of water on me.”

“I didn’t even feel it happen!” she gasped. “It just—came out!”

I wiped water from my eyes. “You know what? Honestly? Worth it.”

She wiped her cheeks, still laughing. “I feel… better. Lighter.”

I glanced at the water spreading across the floor, already thinning, evaporating at the edges.

“Maybe that’s it,” I said slowly. “Maybe you needed to let it out.”

She tilted her head. “Like emotional pressure relief… but wetter.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Very scientific.”

She grinned, then sobered slightly. “I really am sorry, Sera. For yelling. For acting like I know better than you.”

I shook my head. “We’re both navigating supernatural nonsense while our lives implode. I think we’re allowed to be messy.”

“Clearly,” she said, gesturing at me.

I laughed again. “I’ll go change. But… thank you. For trusting me enough to fall apart.”

She smiled softly. “Thanks for not freaking out when I accidentally turned you into a drowned rat.”

“Hey,” I said, standing. “If this is what calming you down looks like, I’ll bring a raincoat next time.”

She snorted.

And for the first time since everything started unraveling, the room felt lighter.

Quieter.

Like the storm had passed—at least for now.