Amber hadn’t planned to come to the restaurant that night.
In fact, she had almost turned her car around twice.
The rain had started unexpectedly, tapping against her windshield like a warning she chose to ignore. Something in her chest felt tight—too tight for it to be coincidence. Call it instinct. Call it dread. Call it the quiet voice that screams when the truth is nearby.
She parked anyway.
The restaurant glowed warm and golden through the glass windows—soft lights, laughing couples, clinking glasses. The kind of place where love pretends nothing can go wrong.
Amber pushed the door open.
And that was the moment everything stopped.
At the center table—perfectly lit, candles flickering like they were mocking her—sat Iman. Relaxed. Smiling. Comfortable in a way Amber hadn’t seen in months.
Across from him sat Delicia.
Not just sitting.
Leaning in.
Laughing softly.
Her hand brushed his wrist as if it belonged there.
Amber’s breath caught in her throat.
The world narrowed to that single table.
Iman was in the middle of cutting his salmon, saying something that made Delicia tilt her head and smile—the same smile Amber once thought was reserved for her alone. A glass of red wine sat between them, untouched dessert menus nearby. This wasn’t a meeting. This wasn’t accidental.
This was a date.
A real one.
Amber stood frozen near the entrance, rain still clinging to her jacket, her heart pounding so loud she was sure someone would hear it.
She simply walked forward.
Each step felt heavy, like she was walking through water. Her heels echoed against the floor.
She stopped at their table.
“So,” she said quietly, “this is what you meant by ‘working late.’”
“Amber…” he whispered.
“Don’t,” she said. “Not tonight.”
“I hope the food was good,” she said quietly. “Because it cost you everything.”
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
The door closed behind her.
And only then—only when she was outside in the rain—did Amber finally let herself cry.
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