All Chapters of Dumped ,Because His Her Is Back : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

He hadn’t gone back to the café since that day.The same day he walked out into the rain and told himself endings were cleaner when they were quiet. That silence was mercy. That signing his name on those papers meant he’d finally done the right thing.Now, sitting in his car outside that very building again, months later, Liam realized how many lies a man could live on before they began to taste like ash.The sign over the door had changed new owners, new name but he still saw it the way it used to be. The chipped blue paint, the small corner table where she always asked for extra cream and he always forgot. Amara.Even her name had rhythm.He used to whisper it against her shoulder like a secret the world couldn’t have.But he let it go.He had convinced himself that letting her go was noble. That Elena’s return the sudden reappearance of the one who’d left was fate offering him a second chance to fix what he’d broken years ago. But that second chance had been an illusion, and he

Amara woke to the soft hum of rain against her window the kind of rain that sounded like it didn’t want to fall, only whisper. The room was dim, but peaceful. Her plants leaned toward the faint light, their leaves speckled with droplets.She’d grown used to the quiet. It was strange, at first waking up without footsteps, without the low sound of someone moving around the kitchen, without the weight of a second toothbrush leaning against hers. But now the silence felt earned. Like a small freedom she’d fought for.The world outside her apartment pulsed with distant life cars moving, vendors shouting, children laughing somewhere down the street. But in here, everything was still.She made tea ginger and honey and leaned against the counter, watching the steam rise. It felt symbolic, somehow. That something could start boiling, wild and loud, and still end in quiet release.It had been weeks since the encounter at the café. Elena’s face still flashed through her memory sometimes not p

She hadn’t planned to stay this long.In truth, she hadn’t planned anything at all.When she came back to the city, it was supposed to be temporary a visit, a breath of familiarity, a selfish need to see what she’d left behind. She told herself it was curiosity, closure. But closure doesn’t ache like this. Closure doesn’t leave you sitting on the edge of a bed at 3 a.m., still wearing yesterday’s regrets like perfume that won’t fade.The city hadn’t changed much. But Liam had.Or maybe he hadn’t maybe it was just her that changed too late.He moved slower now, quieter, as if afraid to disturb something fragile. When he smiled, it was polite, practiced. And when he looked at her, it wasn’t the way he used to it was searching, distant, like he was trying to find someone who wasn’t there anymore.Sometimes, she caught him glancing toward the door when it rained, like he was waiting for someone else to walk in.And she knew who.That’s the thing about ghosts they don’t need to haunt lou

Liam woke before the city did.The kind of dawn that didn’t paint the sky, just brushed it in a muted gray. His apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the wall clock that had survived three moves and two heartbreaks. The air was cool, carrying the smell of rain that had passed in the night.He sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his face, his thoughts slow but heavy. There were days he woke up and almost forgot what regret felt like. But not today. Today, it was there before his eyes opened that faint tightening in his chest, that soft ache of what if.He walked to the window. The city stretched beneath him distant car horns, vendors setting up, the faint pulse of morning life. People were moving on, as they always did. He envied them for that the quiet art of continuing.His reflection in the glass looked older. Not by years, but by memories. The kind that didn’t leave wrinkles but hollowed you from the inside.He’d tried, in his own way, to

It had been raining for three days straight.Not the wild, violent kind of rain that lashes the windows and screams against the earth no, this was softer. Relentless, steady, the kind that seeps into everything until the air itself feels heavy with memory.Liam stood by the window of the small cottage he’d rented near the coast, watching the gray horizon blur where the sky met the sea.He hadn’t meant to come here. It just happened a drive that became an escape, a wrong turn that somehow led him exactly where he needed to be. The coastline was quiet, the kind of quiet that presses against your thoughts until they can’t hide anymore.It was Amara’s kind of place. That was the first thing he thought when he saw it the endless stretch of water, the small market by the pier, the way the world seemed to move at half-speed here.She would’ve liked it.He poured himself coffee bitter, too strong and sat by the window. The rain had turned to mist now, thin and silvery, curling like smoke