"She was my childhood. When my mother passed away, she stood by my side, sharing in my pain. When my father remarried, she was my supporter. Even when illness struck, she came to check on me.
I won't deny it—I didn't like her at first. But your question lingers: Why am I still with her? It's the memories that bind me. I couldn't seem to let go of the past—the happy moments, the sad ones, the ridiculous and the embarrassing.
Maybe at one point I did feel something for her, but now it's as if that feeling has faded into a dull ache. I trusted her.
Maybe That's why I couldn't bring myself to let her go, despite the hurt she's caused, the lies she's told, and the embarrassment she's brought upon me. " Max said.
Amara whispered, "I don't understand," her voice barely breaking the stillness, yet Max caught the tremor in her words. He turned to her, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You don't understand?" he echoed, curiosity piqued.
With a slight tremor in her heart, Amara met his gaze, a mixture of fear and determination swirling within her. She took a step closer, crossing the invisible line that separated them. "Yes," she said, her tone firming as confidence surged. "I don't understand why you're sad."
Her voice hung in the air, fragile yet resolute, and Max's eyes widened, astonished by her boldness. He remained silent, a silent invitation for her to continue.
"You don't trust her," she pressed, her heart racing. "If you did, why didn't you tell her you're the heir?"
Amara understood that she was no friend to him. Yet tonight, even as he teetered on the edge of drunkenness, she felt an undeniable urge to confront him, to speak her truth. Tomorrow might bring departure, and she didn't want to leave without saying what had long been bottled up inside her.
For too long, she had yearned to share laughter and conversation, but instead, she had settled for the role of a silent shadow in his life. She watched him from distance.
"How do you know that?" Max asked, his gaze piercing into hers.
"You're the princess's son; it's supposed to be you," Amara replied, her voice steady, though she was lying. The truth was, she had overheard a conversation between Max and her father.
"Amara, she knows that too, but she didn't…" Max trailed off, his words hanging in the air. His eyes locked onto hers, and an unsettling silence fell between them.
"What are you going to do now?" Amara finally asked.
"Well, I think I'm going to get married when my father chooses someone, or maybe I'll choose myself," he said, opening his eyes wide. A smile crept across his face as he added, "I have someone in mind."
He looked directly into Amara's eyes, but she quickly turned her face away.
"What about you, Amara?" Max shifted the topic.
"What?" Amara replied, surprised.
"I heard you're leaving today or tomorrow. Why?" he asked.
"I have to go to my parents' house because I miss them," Amara said, but Max laughed in response.
"You miss them?" he said, standing up and plopping down on the couch.