Chapter Twenty-Six – Words That Cut, Eyes That Burn
She hadn’t planned to confront him. Not really. She told herself she didn’t care, that she would ignore him just as he had ignored her. But when Amara saw him slip out of class early, tall and unreadable in that quiet, arrogant way he carried himself, something inside her snapped.
Before she knew it, she was following him down the hall, her footsteps sharp against the polished floor.
“Joon-Ho.”
He froze.
The sound of his name from her lips was heavier than any shout. Slowly, he turned, and for the first time in weeks, his eyes locked on hers without darting away.
Amara’s chest ached, but she pushed the pain aside, anger spilling forward. “So that’s it? You disappear for weeks, show up in the news like some prince in hiding, and then walk around here like I don’t even exist?”
His jaw tightened. “Amara—”
“No.” Her voice cut through, trembling with fury. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Do you have any idea what it felt like? To be left in the dark? To wonder if I was nothing more than a mistake you wanted to forget?”
His throat worked as if the words lodged there, unspoken.
She stepped closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You can ignore me all you want, Joon-Ho, but don’t stand there and pretend like nothing happened. Don’t stand there and pretend like I don’t matter.”
His composure cracked. Just slightly, but enough. His eyes, so carefully guarded, flinched with something raw—pain, longing, guilt.
“You don’t understand,” he said hoarsely.
“Then explain it to me!” Her voice rose, echoing off the empty corridor. She didn’t care who heard. Her heart was breaking, and he needed to feel it. “Why did you leave me that night? Why have you been avoiding me? Is it because I’m not good enough for you now that everyone knows who you are?”
The words hung between them, sharp and trembling.
For a heartbeat, the silence was unbearable.
Then Joon-Ho stepped closer, his voice low, desperate. “Don’t ever say you’re not good enough. You’re the only thing in my life that’s ever felt real.”
Amara’s breath caught. The anger inside her trembled, warring with the ache in her chest. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand more. But instead, she stood frozen as his eyes bore into hers, unguarded at last.
For the first time, she saw the truth—he was running, not because she didn’t matter, but because she mattered too much.
And yet, it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Her voice shook as she whispered, “Then why are you pushing me away?”
Joon-Ho’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come. He couldn’t tell her about his father, about the weight of the company, about the cage of gold tightening around him.
So he stayed silent.
And in that silence, Amara’s heart cracked a little more.
