Chords of Contention

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The bedroom was steeped in a quiet kind of nostalgia, the lingering scent of champagne and roses whispering echoes of the celebration that had only just ended. Moonlight spilled through the curtains in silvery streaks, casting long shadows that danced against the walls. But beneath the beauty of the night, tension slithered like a serpent, wrapping itself around the room, suffocating the air between them.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Gabriel's carefully constructed mask of charm shattered, revealing the storm that had been brewing beneath the surface.

His voice, sharp and venomous, sliced through the stillness like a blade.

"What the fuck was that, Amelia?" His gaze burned into her, electric with rage. "You and Adrian, whispering like scheming lovers—do you take me for a fucking fool?"

Amelia stiffened, willing herself to hold firm beneath the weight of his fury. She met his stare, refusing to cower.

"Gabriel, it's not what you think," she began, her voice steady despite the fear curling in her gut. "Adrian was just—"

"Enough!" His roar cracked through the room like a thunderclap, sending a jolt through her. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles bone-white. "I'm sick of your damn excuses."

Her breath hitched. A lump lodged itself in her throat, but she forced herself to push past it.

"Please," she implored, her voice fragile yet insistent. "You have to understand. I didn't expect him to be there. We were just talking—"

The slap came swift and unrelenting.

A white-hot sting exploded across her cheek, the force snapping her head to the side. A gasp choked in her throat as she staggered back, one hand flying to cradle the burning flesh. The pain was secondary to the shock that rattled through her bones, leaving her frozen in place.

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling freely as the moment hung between them, thick and suffocating.

Gabriel exhaled harshly, his chest heaving as if the act had drained something from him. His expression shifted, the fire in his eyes flickering with something else—regret, or maybe just frustration at himself. He stepped forward, reaching for her.

"Angel," his voice softened, thick with an edge of remorse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Amelia flinched, instinct overriding reason.

Gabriel froze. His outstretched fingers hovered inches from her, his entire body rigid. For a moment, an unbearable silence stretched between them, the sound of Amelia's ragged breathing the only thing filling the void.

And then, something inside her cracked.

This wasn't the first time. And deep down, in the part of her heart she refused to acknowledge, she feared it wouldn't be the last.

Amelia recoiled from his touch as if his hands burned her skin. Fear and fury tangled inside her, fueling her as she shoved him away. Her breath came in shallow bursts, chest heaving, eyes ablaze with an unshakable resolve that caught Gabriel off guard.

For a long, excruciating moment, they stood in silent confrontation, the air between them charged like the eye of a storm.

Gabriel's brow furrowed, his features shifting between concern and confusion. He reached for her again, but she took a sharp step back, her voice quivering yet unwavering.

"Stay away from me!" she cried, her voice raw with emotion. "You have no right to treat me like this."

His jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. "Baby, please. Let me explain. I never meant to hurt you."

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