CHAPTER 7

Amelia's POV

Lily's apartment was warm,throwing blankets draped over the couch. Half-finished design sketches spread across the coffee table. A scented candle burning in the kitchen that smelled like cedar and vanilla.

Nothing like the Blackwood mansion, which was always perfectly temperature-controlled and completely soulless.

"Sit." Lily pointed at the couch without looking at me. She was already moving toward the kitchen, dropping her keys on the counter. "I'm making tea. Don't argue."

"I wasn't going to." I sat down slowly.

The cushions were soft beneath me. I leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting the quiet settle. My coat was still on.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small compartment item I transferred before getting out of the car.

The wedding ring. It sat in the center of my palm under Lily's warm lamplight. Smaller than I remembered. Or maybe I had simply spent too long giving it more meaning than it deserved.

Lily appeared in the kitchen doorway with two mugs. She stopped when she saw what I was holding.

"Amelia."

"I'm not going to cry." I said immediately.

She crossed the room and sat beside me, handing over one of the mugs. She didn't say anything else. Just sat there, close enough that our shoulders nearly touched, and waited.

I turned the ring slowly between my fingers.

Three years ago, on a grey November morning, Damian slid this ring onto my finger. His expression had been unreadable, the same way it always was, and I stood beside him at the altar telling myself that unreadable wasn't the same as unfeeling.

I was so desperate to believe that.

The wedding was elegant. Every detail was arranged by both families to impress the right people. Flowers I did not choose. A guest list I barely even knew. A dress that fit perfectly because someone else had taken my measurements.

The only moment that felt real was when Damian's hand briefly covered mine after placing the ring.

I held onto that one second for three years.

"You know what the worst part is?" I said.

Lily looked at me. "What?"

"I don't even regret loving him." I shook my head slowly. "I regret staying after I already knew."

Lily wrapped both hands around her mug. "When did you know?"

I thought about it honestly. "About a year in." I said. "Maybe earlier."

She didn't flinch. Didn't say I told you so, even though she had every right to. That was the thing about Lily. She never used the truth as a weapon.

"I kept thinking I could fix it." I continued. "That if I was patient enough, present enough, if I just loved him correctly somehow..." I stopped. "As if love is something you can perform well to earn back."

"It isn't." Lily said simply.

"I know." I agreed. "It isn't."

I looked down at the ring one final time.

Then I stood, went toward Lily's bookshelf where I spotted something earlier, and reached for the small decorative box she kept on the second shelf. She bought it years ago from a market downtown and always meant to find a use for it.

I opened it. It was empty inside.

I placed the ring carefully in the center and closed the latch.

Some memories didn't deserve to be carried forever. But they also didn't deserve to be treated like they never happened.

I set the box on the shelf and stepped back.

"Feel anything?" Lily asked from the couch, watching me carefully.

I considered the question. "Lighter." I said. "Strangely lighter."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "Good."

I returned to the couch and picked up my mug. The tea was still warm. Chamomile, I realized after the first sip. Lily always remembered.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. The candle flickered in the kitchen. Outside, the city hummed steadily, unbothered and endless.

"Are you going to be okay here tonight?" Lily asked.

"You mean am I going to fall apart the moment you fall asleep?"

"Essentially, yes."

I almost smiled. "Probably not tonight." I said honestly. "Tonight I just feel... empty. The falling apart might come later."

"I'll be here for that too." She said without hesitation.

I looked at her. This woman who had dropped everything tonight without a second thought, who had driven to the Blackwood mansion ready to fight a billionaire with nothing but her bare hands and her complete lack of self-preservation.

"Lily." I said.

"Don't." She pointed at me. "If you're about to thank me, I will pour this tea directly on you."

I laughed. Lily grinned. "There she is."

"I'm still a mess." I said.

"Obviously." She tucked her feet beneath her on the cushion. "But you're a mess who signed those papers, walked out of that house, and took off that ring all in one night." She raised her mug slightly. "That's not nothing."

It wasn't nothing actually. I leaned back against the cushions and closed my eyes. The warmth of the apartment settled around me like something I did not realize I was missing.

Tomorrow would arrive with its own weight. The divorce would proceed. The world would continue moving. Damian would wake up in that enormous empty mansion and feel absolutely nothing, probably, while I rebuilt myself from whatever pieces remained.

But tonight, at least, I was not alone.

Lily's phone rang.

The sound broke through the quiet sharply. She frowned at the screen, clearly expecting to ignore it.

Then her expression changed.

"What?" I asked.

She turned the phone slowly toward me without answering.

The name on the screen stopped my breath entirely.

‘Grandfather Hart.’

My grandfather never called late. Not once in my memory. He was a man of scheduled calls and proper timing and absolute deliberateness in everything he did.

Which meant this call, at this hour, was not accidental.

Lily looked at me carefully. "Should I answer?"

My fingers curled around my mug.

I have not spoken to my grandfather since before the wedding. Since the day I chose Damian over the family name and walked away from everything I was supposed to become.

"Answer it." I said quietly.