Oh to be loved

24

Three weeks passed in their new home, and on the surface, everything seemed perfect. The neighborhood was quiet, the house warm and full of light. Amara filled the space with plants and laughter, her playlists echoing softly through the rooms as she painted the kitchen a pale yellow and organized the spice cabinet with far too much enthusiasm. Cillian, meanwhile, spent his days making repairs to the backyard fence and assembling furniture with quiet focus. To anyone watching, they looked like a normal couple settling into a new life.

But inside, something had started to shift.

It was subtle at first—an extra beat of silence when Amara asked about a call he took in the study. A stiffness in Cillian's shoulders when she brought up her desire to explore the local community center. Their routines remained, but beneath the rhythm was a tension neither of them wanted to name.

It came to a head one Saturday morning.

Amara stood at the sink, rinsing out her coffee mug, when she glanced out the window and saw a sleek black car idling just across the street. Her heart skipped. Cillian had assured her—again and again—that they were clean, safe, off the grid. But that car didn't look like it belonged in this town.

She didn't say anything right away. But that evening, as they ate dinner in the dining room, the silence between them stretched too long.

"You had a call this morning," Amara said, setting down her fork. "You went quiet afterward."

Cillian didn't look up immediately. He finished chewing, wiped his mouth, and nodded. "I did."

"Was it work?"

"Something like that."

Amara stared at him, waiting for more. "Cillian," she said slowly. "You promised you were out. That we were starting over."

He finally looked at her, and though his expression was calm, there was a flicker of something guarded in his eyes. "I'm not back in. I haven't touched the old life. But there are things that need watching. I still have people I owe. Loose ends."

Amara pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. "So it's not over."

"It is," he said quietly. "But there are pieces of it that don't just vanish because I want them to. I'm trying to manage that without dragging you into it."

She stood from the table, moving to the window. That car was gone now, but the unease lingered. "I'm not asking you to pretend the past didn't happen. I'm asking you not to keep secrets from me. I didn't follow you through all of this just to be shut out."

Cillian stood too, walking slowly toward her. "I'm not trying to shut you out. I'm trying to protect you."

"You don't have to protect me from the truth."

He hesitated, then reached for her hand. She let him take it, but her fingers remained still in his.

"This life," he said carefully, "comes with ghosts. I'm doing everything I can to keep them buried. But sometimes, they still reach out. And if they do... I have to be ready."

"And what about me?" she asked, her voice soft but steady. "Do I just keep pretending this house is far enough away to keep them from finding us?"

He didn't answer.

They stood there for a long time, the silence dense between them. Eventually, Amara pulled her hand back and turned away.

"I need air," she said quietly, slipping on her coat.

"Amara—"

"I just need a minute, Cillian."

She left through the front door, the cold air brushing her cheeks as she stepped into the quiet evening. She didn't know where she was going—just that she needed space to think. She loved him. She still trusted him. But trust wasn't just about protection—it was about truth. And tonight, it felt like there were still pieces of him she couldn't reach.

Inside, Cillian stood in the doorway, watching her walk away with a knot forming in his chest. He wanted to go after her. But he also knew that what she needed wasn't comfort. It was clarity.

And he wasn't sure he could give it to her—not yet.

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hi guys sorry for the months of me not being active but im back for a little while. Not sure how i like how this chapter shifts the book but its okay we gonna go with it!