All Chapters of Dumped ,Because His Her Is Back : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Rumors have a sound. They start soft a whisper, a breath then grow claws. By the time Liam heard them, they’d already torn through half the people he knew. His phone buzzed endlessly, full of messages that weren’t questions but judgments dressed as concern.“Did you get back with Ellen?”“You really moved on fast.”“Guess love circles back, huh?”He didn’t answer any of them.He just sat there in his car, hands on the steering wheel, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The man looking back at him didn’t look guilty. Just tired. Bone-deep tired.Ellen slept in the back seat, her head tilted against the window. She looked smaller now, fragile, like someone life had taken too many bites out of. The sickness had come fast, stripping her of her glow. When she’d shown up again, asking for help, there had been no hesitation in him. Not because love had returned but because compassion had never left.He’d told himself he was doing what anyone decent would do.But decency, he’

(Amara’s POV - the storm inside her mind and the quiet awakening through art)The heart has a strange way of pretending.It smiles when it’s supposed to ache. It says I’m fine when what it really means is I’m still bleeding, just quietly now.That’s what Amara had been doing for weeks. Pretending. Smiling through whispers. Painting through exhaustion. Writing poems about peace while her chest trembled with something she refused to name.She’d told herself she was over him. That Liam had been a chapter painful but necessary and that she’d closed it with grace. She’d convinced herself that forgiveness was final, that time had softened the edges of his memory.But time, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor.Because the day the gossip reached her in all its messy, glittering half-truths something inside her cracked again.It started small: a conversation at the café she’d once shared with him. Two women at the next table, scrolling through their phones, voices low but sharp enough to pie

(Amara’s POV)Truth has a strange rhythm.It doesn’t knock when you’re ready it arrives when you’ve just started to forget.For Amara, it began with a message.A simple “Hey, can we talk?” from a number she didn’t recognize.At first, she ignored it. The world had taught her that curiosity often hurt. But when the same message came again the next day, followed by, “It’s about Liam,” she froze.She didn’t want it to be. She didn’t want to be dragged backward into a story she’d already painted an ending for.Still, something call it unfinished tenderness made her reply.Who is this?Ellen.The name hit her like an old bruise.She stared at it for a long time, her heartbeat thudding louder than reason.Her first instinct was to block the number. But another message followed, softer this time:Please. Just once. I owe you the truth.Amara hesitated, then agreed to meet.Not for closure she’d told herself that chapter was over but maybe because she needed to know why the universe refused t

The rain came soft, like forgiveness.It soaked into the grass, into the soil, into the silence that surrounded the grave.Liam stood there longer than anyone else. He didn’t move when the umbrellas closed or when the condolences faded into the hum of car engines leaving the cemetery. He just… stood. Hands in his pockets, letter pressed against his palm like it might burn through skin if he let go.Ellen’s name carved in stone didn’t feel real.It didn’t feel like her.She was too alive in his memories her laughter echoing in sterile hospital halls, her sharp wit returning even when pain had dulled everything else.She was difficult and fragile, radiant and wrecked.And he had loved her once not the way people thought, not with the kind of love that survives a lifetime, but with the kind that teaches you how to lose gently.He had promised himself that he’d show up for her when no one else did.And he had.But now, standing here, the question that haunted him was at what cost?Because

It happened quietly, the way important things often do not with thunder or headlines, but with a chance crossing under an ordinary sky. The café door opened, a bell chimed, and for a split second, time folded in on itself.Liam hadn’t planned to see her. He hadn’t even planned to stop here it was just a place he used to pass by when the world still made sense. The place that smelled faintly of roasted beans and rain-soaked afternoons. The place where, once upon a memory, Amara had smiled at him from behind her cup, sunlight caught in her hair like a secret only he was allowed to keep.Now she was here again. Different, and yet entirely her.She wore the same kind of quiet that used to draw him in a stillness that didn’t beg to be understood, just witnessed. Her eyes lifted from her book, landing on him, and for a heartbeat, neither of them breathed. The air between them thickened with the weight of recognition not of faces, but of history.He froze by the door, unsure whether to walk