Chapter 2 A Ring Isn't Always a Promise

The soft click of her heels echoed in the vast, echoing lobby of the Avalon Residences-a sleek high-rise nestled in the heart of San Francisco's arts district. Amara pressed the elevator button with a steady hand, but inside, she was anything but steady.

Daniel's voice still haunted her ears. "I never stopped thinking about you."

She didn't want to think about what that meant. Not while her left hand shimmered with a flawless emerald-cut diamond engagement ring, gifted to her by a man who had never once made her cry. Not even once.

The elevator doors opened into her penthouse. All glass and curated elegance. Ethan liked modern. Clean lines. White leather. Black marble. No clutter, no mess, no history.

"Babe?" His voice called from the open-plan kitchen.

She exhaled quickly, schooling her face before stepping into view.

"There you are." Ethan Cross-tech mogul, angel investor, and cover-boy for Fortune's Most Eligible-walked toward her with a wide smile and a glass of scotch in his hand. "Gallery good today?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "Yeah. Busy, but good."

He held her waist for a moment, studying her with that calculating gaze. "You look tense. Someone annoy you again?"

For a second, she considered telling him the truth. That the someone wasn't just anyone-but the man who taught her how to love and then taught her what it meant to ache.

Instead, she smiled tightly. "Just the usual."

Ethan nodded, distracted already, his fingers tapping against his glass. "Dinner at The Bay Room at eight. Black dress. I invited Madison and her husband-PR reasons. Also... reminder, Vogue wants an inside look at your gallery next month. Let's polish things up a bit."

He walked away before she could respond.

Just like always.

Amara turned toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched the city breathe below her. She had everything. A sprawling view. A man who looked perfect on paper. A life most women would envy.

So why did she feel so... hollow?

Later that night, as she sat across from Ethan and his glamorous friends at the waterfront restaurant, Amara's phone buzzed in her clutch. One unread message.

From a number she didn't have saved-but instantly recognized.

I shouldn't have come. But I don't regret it. You deserve more than silence. If you ever want to talk... I'll be here for a few days. - D

She stared at the screen.

"You okay?" Ethan asked, noticing the flicker in her eyes.

"Yeah," she lied. "Just a gallery message."

He nodded, already reaching for his wine again.

Amara tucked the phone away-but her thoughts wouldn't quiet. Her heart was playing a dangerous game with her past, and she didn't know how to stop it.

Flashback -

Eight Years Ago, New York City

The rain was falling hard the night Daniel left.

Amara had waited outside his dorm with a letter in her coat pocket. One she never gave him. One filled with dreams and desperate promises. She had planned to run to him, beg him not to go, not yet-not without figuring out how to make it work.

But from across the quad, she saw him get into the taxi, duffel bag in hand, eyes forward. He never looked back.

And she never forgave herself for not calling out.

Back to Present

That night, back in her bed, with Ethan's even breathing beside her, Amara stared at the ceiling.

Everything she buried was clawing its way to the surface.

And despite the weight of a diamond on her finger and the comfort of a future already written for her-her heart was listening for footsteps that had once walked away.