Semua Bab Dumped ,Because His Her Is Back : Bab 61 - Bab 70

He told himself he wouldn’t look for her. That he would respect the silence she left behind, the distance she needed to heal from what he broke. For weeks, he lived by that vow a fragile shield against the weight pressing on his chest. But silence, he learned, doesn’t heal guilt. It only sharpens it.The days blurred. His apartment still smelled faintly of her perfume, though she hadn’t stepped inside in months. Sometimes, when he walked past the kitchen, he’d hear the soft echo of her laughter not loud, but the kind that used to light up an ordinary morning. He’d stand there, eyes closed, gripping the counter like it might hold him steady. But it never did.He’d gone from denial to anger to regret but now, something else was clawing through: a quiet, unrelenting need to make things right. Not to fix what was lost, but to unburden what still lived in him. He’d been the one who rushed. The one who let the wrong person back in. The one who pushed Amara out, blinded by what he thought

Liam hadn’t expected peace to hurt this much.He thought seeing her calm the way her eyes didn’t tremble anymore, the way her voice didn’t catch on his name would bring him relief. Maybe even a soft sense of closure. But as he walked away from her door that evening, the silence pressed against his chest like unspoken penance.It was over, truly over. Not in anger or bitterness. Just… over.And that was what undid him.The streets looked the same as they always had lamplight pooling in soft gold, the faint scent of rain on concrete, the hum of traffic blending into a low, steady rhythm. But the world felt quieter. Not peaceful quiet. Empty quiet. The kind that leaves you aware of your own breathing.He stopped by a café not the one they used to go to, but close enough that the ghosts of memory still brushed by his sleeve. The barista smiled politely, handed him his drink, and asked if he wanted his usual. He almost laughed. His usual had been whatever Amara ordered. Without her, he

The air felt strange that evening. Not heavy just different.The kind of quiet that hums beneath your ribs, like the world is holding its breath for something you can’t see.Amara noticed it as soon as she woke up.The rain from the night before had rinsed the city clean. The streets shimmered in pale light, and even the wind carried that faint scent of beginnings wet earth, jasmine, and something unnamed.She made tea, wrapped herself in the old cream sweater she’d painted in, and stood by the window watching the world turn gold.She didn’t know that, somewhere across the city, Liam had faced his own ghost.She didn’t need to.Somehow, her heart already knew.There was a softness in her chest that morning, a peace that didn’t belong to sleep or solitude.It was the kind that comes when something inside you has quietly shifted when the wound that once ruled your life stops aching without asking for attention.She smiled at the thought and whispered into the stillness,“I think I’m

It’s strange how silence can be louder than any scream.The morning after the rumors broke, Amara woke up to a quiet that didn’t feel like peace anymore. It was the kind that hums beneath your ribs restless, heavy, and sharp.Her phone sat face-down on her nightstand, as if it too was ashamed of what it carried. The air in her room was thick, unmoving, the curtains drawn halfway against a reluctant sunrise.She didn’t check her messages. Not yet.She just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that maybe maybe this was all another illusion. Maybe people were simply bored. Maybe Liam wouldn’t do this. Not again.But the part of her that had learned not to trust too easily whispered otherwise.That part small but steady said: “This is what happens when you start to believe the light can’t burn you.”She sat up slowly, her throat dry, and pressed her palms to her temples. Her head was a storm of questions, of memories colliding with new doubts. Every heartbeat

The truth didn’t arrive like a message.It arrived like a whisper in a crowd half-heard, half-believed, but loud enough to tear through the quiet she had built.Amara first heard it at the gallery.She was standing by her latest painting, the one everyone said looked like sunlight breaking through water, when two women nearby spoke her name.“Did you see? He’s back with her.”“Of course he is. Men like him always circle back to their first love.”At first, she thought she’d misheard. She smiled politely, pretending to admire a sculpture. But the names that followed were unmistakable.Liam. Ellen.And her chest went cold.She didn’t turn around. She didn’t ask. She just walked outside, her breath coming shorter with each step until she reached the street.Her phone buzzed four missed calls from Janae. One message blinking unread.She didn’t open it.Because sometimes, the confirmation hurts more than the rumor itself.The wind was sharp that evening, curling through her hair like mem