chapter 74: Peace, finally
---
Chapter 74 – Ethan's POV
"Peace, Finally"
I didn't realize how tightly I'd been holding my breath… until she said yes.
Not the kind of yes that came with fireworks or grand speeches — but the quiet kind. Soft. Uncertain. Brave.
Amara had looked me in the eye, after weeks of cold glances and guarded silence, and said:
"Maybe we can try again."
Those six words undid me.
I'd played the moment over in my head for days — how I'd apologize, what I'd say, how I'd mean every single word. But nothing could've prepared me for the actual moment her walls began to crack, for that one glimmer of trust returning to her voice.
For the first time in a long time… I felt peace.
The kind of peace you only feel when something broken begins to heal.
---
When I got home that night, I didn't head straight for my laptop like I usually did. I didn't pour a drink. I didn't overthink it.
Instead, I sat on the edge of my bed in the silence of my apartment, elbows on my knees, and just felt it.
Relief.
Gratitude.
Something dangerously close to happiness.
It was strange. I wasn't used to sitting with my feelings — I'd always distracted myself with work, noise, or people. But now… I didn't want to run from this one.
Because for once, I wasn't filled with regret. I wasn't questioning if I'd ruined the best thing to ever happen to me. I wasn't chasing after something that had already slipped away.
Amara had reached back.
And even if it was just her fingertips, that was enough.
---
I thought about the past few weeks — how hard I'd tried to prove myself without pushing too far. How I'd watched her laugh with others while pretending not to ache every time she walked past me like I didn't exist.
I didn't blame her.
I deserved her anger.
I disappeared after the night we shared. Not physically — but emotionally. I backed off, like a coward, when I should've leaned in. And even though I never meant to hurt her… I did.
She didn't deserve silence.
She didn't deserve confusion.
She deserved clarity. Commitment. The kind of honesty I'd never learned how to give — not until I almost lost her.
That night she agreed to try again, I saw it in her eyes: she was scared. But she was also tired of holding it in.
So was I.
---
I found myself texting her before bed — something small, just to let her know I was thinking of her.
Ethan:
Still can't believe you said yes.
Don't worry — I plan on earning it every day.
She replied a few minutes later:
Amara:
Don't mess it up this time.
I smiled at the screen, the kind of genuine smile that settled deep in your chest.
Ethan:
I won't.
---
The next day, I saw her in the office.
She was wearing that burgundy top that always made her skin look like honey, her hair tied back in a lazy bun that still somehow made her look effortlessly beautiful. Our eyes met across the hallway, and for a second, she hesitated — then gave me the tiniest smile.
Just a flicker.
But it was mine.
And that made my whole damn day.
---
I visited Arya later that evening. She looked tired — like really tired — curled up in a blanket on the couch with a heating pad on her back and a plate of pickles and cheese sticks beside her.
"You good?" I asked.
She groaned. "Do I look good?"
"You look like a woman ready to fight a war over the last mango popsicle."
She grinned through the exhaustion. "Damon ate it. I nearly divorced him."
I chuckled and sat beside her. "I told you to label your snacks."
"I shouldn't have to label my sanity."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while before she looked over at me and tilted her head. "You look... different."
I raised a brow. "Bad different?"
"No. Calm." She blinked. "Peaceful."
I nodded slowly. "I am."
Her smile widened knowingly. "Amara?"
"Yeah."
"She finally forgave you?"
"She finally gave me a chance to make things right."
Arya reached over and squeezed my hand. "Then don't waste it."
"I won't," I said quietly.
Because I couldn't.
---
That night, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above me, I realized something I hadn't admitted to myself before.
I'd been looking for peace in all the wrong places — success, money, meaningless flings, distractions that never filled the void.
But peace? Real, grounding, soul-deep peace?
It was in her.
Not just because she forgave me…
But because I had finally stopped running.
I was done hiding from how I felt.
I was ready to try.
And for the first time in my life, I actually believed…
Trying might just be enough.
---