All Chapters of The Final Goodbye : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Amara tossed restlessly in her bed, her body twisting from side to side as sweat drenched her nightgown. Her voice pierced through the silence of the room, raw with fear.“Alex! Let me go! Leave me alone!” she screamed, her cry echoing against the walls.The dim light of the bedside lamp flickered with the breeze from the half-open window, throwing strange shadows across the room. Suddenly, the door burst open.“Amara!” Martins rushed in, his hand immediately switching on the light. His face carried urgency, his voice deep with concern.Amara was curled up, her face buried between her knees, her body trembling like a child lost in a storm. The moment she heard Martins’s voice, her shoulders shook. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes swollen with tears, her lips quivering.Then, like a wave of instinct, she threw herself into his arms, clinging to him tightly.“Martins…” she whispered, her voice breaking.He held her close, his hand running gently through her hair. “It’s okay, Amar

Amara gasped, her hand pressed against her chest as she stood frozen in front of the television. Her legs trembled under her weight. Slowly, she staggered backward until she collapsed onto the couch, her eyes wide, her breaths uneven.“Why?” she whispered, the tears spilling freely now. “Why can’t Alex just let me go?”Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her palms. The sound of his voice coming from the television kept ringing in her ears, making her heart pound with confusion. She thought she had buried him in the grave of her past, buried every memory they once shared. She thought she had forgotten the nights of laughter, the little smiles, even the rare times he held her hand without shame. But now, hearing him, seeing him speak with such weight, the walls she had built shook violently.“I thought I was free,” she cried, rocking herself gently. “So why… why am I still feeling this strange love for him again?”Her sobs filled the room.*************Back at the conferen

Amara moved towards him, walking gently as if counting each one. She hadn't planned to meet him. Yet here she was, pulled by a curiosity she did not trust.Alex saw her and for a heartbeat the world narrowed; He rushed forward instinctively, arms opening the way a man reclaims something he has lost. But Amara held up a hand stopping him abruptly. He halted as if the air itself wanted him to be careful. From the car, James emerged quietly carrying two umbrellas. He moved with the economy of someone who had watched crises before and knew the small kindnesses they needed. He handed one to Amara, held the other for him and Alex, and the rain sounded against the cloth like an impatient drummer. The umbrellas did little to soothe the cold; the rain seemed intent on making the meeting difficult. Alex held out a little metal flask with both hands. The container looked humble in his fingertips but inside it carried something he hoped might bridge a gulf. “Amara,” he said, voice rough from

The rain poured without mercy, dripping from rooftops, pounding on the ground, drenching everything in sight. Alex’s knees were already soaked, mud staining his trousers, but he didn’t care. His eyes never left Amara’s face. His palms pressed together as if he was praying, and his voice, hoarse yet loud enough to rise above the rain, echoed with desperation.“I was stupid,” he said, shaking his head, his words trembling. “I was arrogant. I held your love in my hands and let it slip away like water. Amara, I’m begging you, can you love me again?” His voice broke as he looked at her, his chest rising and falling heavily.The drops that rolled down his cheeks were no longer just rain but tears. The force of his pain was undeniable. Even James, who had stood by him through everything, shifted uneasily. He had never seen his friend like this before - broken, begging, raw. He turned to Amara, his eyes speaking for him, silently pleading with her to consider forgiveness.James wished the

The moment Alex pulled the handle and swung the door open, his feet froze. His jaw slackened, his eyes widened, and for a second, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.There she was, Benita Spencer, his mother. She stood at the doorway, dignified yet cold, one hand dragging a traveling bag that was too heavy for a casual visit. That bag told its own story: she wasn’t here to greet; she had come to stay.“Mum?” Alex’s voice cracked as he blinked, trying to believe what he saw.Benita didn’t answer. She stepped into the room with slow, deliberate grace, the type that announced her presence louder than words. Alex instinctively shifted backward, his steps dragging as though the ground was shifting beneath him.James and Mr. Chen, still rooted inside, glanced at one another in confusion. Why was Alex retreating like a driver who suddenly realized his steering had failed? But the moment their eyes caught the woman at the door, they both froze like statues.Mr. Chen reacted firs