Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 71 - Chapitre 80

From the beginning, there were signs their relationship wouldn’t last. Riley was distant, even cold at times. Amanda gave everything to make it work, hoping her love would be enough.She prepared his favorite meals, listened patiently to his complaints, and stayed up late to help him prepare for meetings. Riley never acknowledged her efforts.He never remembered her birthday unless she reminded him. When she brought him coffee, he didn’t look up from his laptop. And when she smiled at him across the dinner table, he barely glanced her way.Amanda told herself this was just who Riley was. He wasn’t expressive, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.She clung to the tiny moments of happiness they shared. The time he brushed a strand of hair from her face without saying a word. The rare evenings they spent watching TV together, his arm loosely draped over her shoulder.But those moments were like drops of water in a vast desert.One night, Amanda sat at her desk, staring at a sticky not

Riley’s mind is racing with all sorts of thoughts. He steps back into the shadows, the noise of the bar fading around him like background static.  His fingers twitch at his sides, restless. His eyes never leave Amanda. Suddenly, a burst of cheers erupts from a group near the bar, drawing a few glances and curious smiles. Riley sees Amanda turn toward her friend—Grace, he thinks—leaning in close to say something over the noise.  The people around them laugh at a comment someone throws out. Someone gestures toward the pool tables.  Amanda nods.  A moment later, the group begins to scatter, breaking off in twos and threes, heading toward the back of the bar where the tables sit under dim lights.  Amanda’s steps are light as she moves, weaving easily through the crowd, her laughter drifting behind her like a ribbon

Riley watches her carefully.In the bar, he didn’t dare look at her straight. Only little glances. Just the corner of his eye catching flashes of her moving, her laughing, her glow in the crowd. Once or twice, he looked at her face—but always looked away fast, scared she might notice. Scared she might look back.Now she’s right in front of him. And somehow, he feels calmer. Not calm, not really, but steadier. Because in Amanda’s eyes, there’s no anger. No walls slamming shut. Maybe confusion, maybe surprise—but not rejection.That’s enough for him to breathe again.So he looks.Really looks.Amanda’s wearing a short coat that fits her like it was made just for her. Not that soft oatmeal color she used to wear all the time. And not pitch black either, the kind that makes people look sharp and distant. This one’s a quiet kind of blue. Gray-blue, almost stormy, soft but not dull.Along the edges, there’s a thin line of silver thread, stitched so neatly it catches the light when she sh

Riley lifts his head and sneaks a glance at Amanda. She’s still watching him. Not the window anymore—him. Still stunned, maybe. Still processing. She doesn’t cut him off. Doesn’t snap back. Just listens. Always been a good listener, Amanda. Even when she was angry. Even when she was hurt. She’d listen. Quiet. Calm. Not judging. He lets out a breath, relieved. At least this isn’t turning into a fight. Still, a bitter edge creeps in. He’s known it all along. “But me?” he says, lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m a coward when it comes to love.” He laughs once, dry and small. “I had everything I wanted, and I still couldn’t believe it. You opened your whole heart to me. And I... I stood outside t

The wind hit the windshield hard, the fallen leaves drawing slow, tired arcs—tick, tick, tick—like a countdown. Amanda stops breathing for a second. She’s never seen Riley like this before. Not the man with all the answers, all the power. This one is messy. Exposed. Human. “I never forget,” he says, softer now. “When I was eleven, at that party at the manor—I saw you first. You were by the fountain. Blue dress. Alone. Like a painting someone forgot to hang.” Amanda blinks. Her heart trips over itself. “The debate competition, you were the leader,” he says, wiping his face with a shaky hand. “The light from the stained glass windows landed right on you. I was standing in the back, just watching.” His voice turns quiet. Almost fragile. “Looking back... I think that was the moment. I j