Chapter 130: I messed up, No I messed up
"Amara, why..." The words stopped. He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration not at her, but at himself.
"Listen, I..." he tried again, his voice lower now, stripped of its usual certainty. "I mean," Nothing came. For the first time in a long time...
Julian didn’t know what to say. And Amara saw it. She turned slowly, her gaze landing on him, steady... but no longer searching. There was no expectation in her eyes. No silent plea for him to fix it.
Just... distance. And something that looked a lot like acceptance. It made his chest tighten.
Because this was the man who always had the right words. The one who could untangle any situation, smooth over any hurt. But standing here now...
He felt like a stranger in his own role. "I shouldn’t have said that like that," he admitted finally, his voice rough. "Not there. Not in front of them." A step closer.
"I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel." Another breath.
"I was thinking about the situation... not you." The honesty was raw. Unpolished.
"I’m confused, Amara," he added, quieter now. "And I hate that I am. But that doesn’t mean I..." He stopped again. Because even now...
The words refused to come out right. Amara watched him. Really watched him. And for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps for him. Didn’t feel the urge to make it easier, to understand for him.
She just let the silence sit between them. Heavy. Honest. Julian let out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping slightly.
"I messed up," he said simply. No defense. No justification. Just truth. And yet, it didn’t fix anything. Because some moments... You don’t come back from words alone.
Amara didn’t look away from him. Not this time.
There was no anger in her face now, just something quieter. Something heavier. The kind of calm that only came after everything inside you had already been shaken apart.
"No, Julian..." her voice was soft, but steady. "I messed up." He frowned immediately, shaking his head, but she continued before he could interrupt.
"I wanted this child," she said, her hand resting over her stomach again, almost instinctively. "I did everything I could to have it. If I hadn’t gone to that doctor..." she exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping for a second before lifting again. "Then maybe none of this would have happened."
A small pause. "This is my doing." The words weren’t self-pitying. They were... accepted.
Julian took a step forward. "Amara..."
"We can talk," she added gently, cutting him off without harshness. "After you’ve had time to think about what you really want to say." Her eyes met his fully now.
"I understand how hard this is for you." And she meant it. "I do." That was what made it hurt more.
"If you want a divorce..." she continued, her voice thinning just slightly, though she fought to keep it steady, "I’ll agree to it."
"...No." The word came out too fast. Too sharp.
Julian shook his head, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically push the thought away. "No, I don’t want a divorce."
He stepped closer again, his voice softer now, more fragile than she had ever heard it. "I love you." The words hung there, real... but not enough to settle the storm between them.
"I just..." he exhaled, frustration creeping in, not at her, but at himself. "I don’t know, Amara. I think we need to know first. And then... we can decide what to do."
He paused again, the familiar struggle returning.
"I—" Nothing. The silence finished it for him. Amara nodded slowly. "That’s fine." Her acceptance came too easily. Too smoothly. "I’ll give you your answers," she said. "But you’ll have to wait eight months for them."
Julian’s eyes flickered. "I won’t risk my baby for a test." The words were firm now. Unmovable.
"If you want to stay," she continued, her tone returning to calm practicality, "you can use our bedroom. I’ll sleep here." A small pause.
"If not... You can go back to the Vale mansion." Something in Julian’s chest tightened. "Amara, that’s not what I want." His voice dropped, almost pleading now.
"I just... I can’t..." he stopped, swallowing hard before trying again. "I want to be here. For you. I want to be part of this." His gaze fell briefly to her stomach, then back to her eyes.
"I love you. And if that child isn’t mine..." he hesitated, but forced the words out anyway, "I’ll still love you. And him... or her." He meant it.
She could see that. But. "But..." The word slipped out before he could stop it. And it said everything he couldn’t. Amara gave a small, almost sad nod.
"But you can’t love her without knowing," she finished quietly. "You can’t accept her until you know." She looked at him, not accusingly.
Just... truthfully. "I understand that, Julian." And she did.
"But I’m the mother," she added, her hand pressing more firmly against her stomach now, like she was grounding herself in that one certainty. "Regardless of anything else."
Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn’t let it break. "I don’t need a test to prove that." A breath. "That’s all that matters to me." It was enough.
It had to be. Because right now... It was all she had. Her lips pressed together tightly, holding back the tears that threatened to rise. No one was coming to fix this. No one was coming to hold her through it.
Not her father. Not her mother. Not even Julian...not fully. It was just her now.
Her... And the life she carried.
Julian watched her, something aching deep in his chest as the distance between them grew, not in steps, but in understanding.
"And me..." he started, his voice quieter now, uncertain again. "What am I supposed to do? Walk away? Miss out on... everything? On the journey of our child, or..."
"Or his." Amara finished it for him. Soft. Final. Julian’s hand dragged through his hair again, his frustration spilling over not outward, but inward. Because there it was.