Amara wasn’t just anger anymore. This was everything. The betrayal. The confusion. The years she couldn’t get back. And standing there in front of him. Amara looked less like a woman confronting a man... And more like someone finally facing the truth she had been forced to live with.

Her breath slowed slightly, but her gaze never wavered.

"Stop showing up in my life," she said, the words quieter now, but final. "Stop pretending you still have a place in it." The street around them seemed to fade. The world narrowing to just the two of them. And the past neither of them had been able to leave behind.

Seb’s words came out slower now. Less controlled. More human.

"Amara... I know I hurt you." His voice dipped, the weight of it finally catching up to him. "Yes... I didn’t have to marry her. But I didn’t know how else to keep her by my side and take care of her without ruining her reputation."

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face.

"Marrying her was the only way to keep her safe. To protect her without the world pointing fingers at her..." A pause. His voice softened. "I’m sorry. I was wrong."

For a second. Just a second. It almost sounded like an explanation. But to Amara. It felt like another betrayal. "Sweet Jesus..."

The words left her in a breathless disbelief, her head shaking as she stared at him like she didn’t recognize the man standing in front of her.

"You cared about her reputation?" she asked, her voice rising again, sharp and incredulous. "About her being seen as someone hanging on a married man..."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "But not mine?" Her eyes burned now.

"As the fake wife?" She took a step back, as if needing distance from the sheer weight of it.

"Wow... oh my God..." She dragged a hand through her hair, pacing once before turning back to him, anger surging all over again.

"You know what? The more you talk, the angrier I get." And then. The question.

Sharp. Reckless. Cutting.

"Tell me," she said, her voice dropping, but no less intense. "Did you have to sleep with her too... to protect her?" The silence that followed was heavy.

Because this. This wasn’t just anger. This was a pain-demanding truth. Seb didn’t look away.

"Since I married her... I did." His voice was low. Measured. But it didn’t soften the blow.

"I fulfilled my duty as a husband," he continued, his jaw tightening slightly. "And because she had to live with the fact that I couldn’t love her."

A pause. "She’s gone now." The words lingered. Final. "And all of that... it was my mistake."

Something close to desperation broke through his composure. "I just need a chance, Amara," he said, stepping forward slightly. "To prove to you that those ten years we spent together..."

His voice tightened. "Not a second of it was a lie." Another step. Careful. Measured.

"I just need one chance to prove that." The street fell quiet around them. No passing cars. No distant noise. Just the space between two people who had once meant everything to each other.

Now standing on opposite sides of a past that refused to stay buried.

Amara laughed. Not softly. Not kindly. It broke out of her like something sharp and bitter that had been waiting far too long.

"Prove it?" she echoed, shaking her head slowly. "How exactly are you planning to do that, Seb?" Her eyes locked onto his, blazing now, not just with anger, but with something deeper.

Something wounded. "By kidnapping me?" she threw out, her voice cutting. "Or when you tried to erase my memory?"

A step closer. "Or was it when you colluded with Amira to have me artificially inseminated without my knowledge?" The words landed like blows. Each one heavier than the last. The air between them turned suffocating.

Because this wasn’t just betrayal anymore. This was violation. Control. A line crossed so far it couldn’t even be seen anymore.

"You don’t get it," Amara said, her voice shaking now, not with uncertainty, but with the force of everything she had endured. "You don’t get to prove anything."

She pointed at him, not dramatically, but firmly.

"I moved on." A breath. "I’m married." Another. "And I’m about to be a mother."

The words were deliberate. Anchoring. A boundary drawn in stone.

"So stop," she said, her voice dropping, steadier now, colder. "Stop trying to get close to me. Stop showing up wherever I am." Her eyes didn’t waver.

"Or I will be forced to get a restraining order against you." For a moment. Silence. Then. "You know you can’t do that."

Seb’s voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "That’s my child you’re carrying." The words shifted something instantly. Dangerously.

"You can’t get a restraining order against me." Amara’s expression hardened. But Seb didn’t stop.

"I know I messed up," he continued, stepping forward, desperation creeping in despite himself. "I know that."

His voice cracked, just slightly. "But you need to understand," Another step. "We can still be a family again."

That. That was the line. The final one. Because whatever fragile restraint Amara had been holding onto. It snapped. Her laughter this time wasn’t bitter.

It was empty. Disbelieving. "A family?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper now, but far more terrifying than when she had been shouting.

She looked at him like he had just said something unforgivable.

"You think after everything you’ve done..." she said slowly, each word deliberate, "that you get to stand here and talk about family?" Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach again, not soft, not protective. Defensive.

"No, Seb, you don’t get to say that."

Amara’s voice cut through the night, sharp enough to make even the distant street noise feel like silence.

"You’ve messed up so badly that you’re just going to have to live with it," she continued, each word deliberate, unshaking. "Even if you were the last man on earth, I would never look your way again."