Page 102 of From Rivals to I Do

Chapter Sixteen

Amber rests peacefully on the mound of clothes that I had arranged for her to lay on. The quiet rhythm of her breathing has become a soothing backdrop in the dimly lit Rooftop. The bulb has begun experiencing some technical difficulties. Still dim, it flickers now and then, taking turns to leave my eyes grappling for light, before turning back on again. It’s the first moment of tranquility she has had since our world was upturned by the earthquake and tsunami. Since she’s fast asleep, I allow myself the stolen privilege of gazing at her.

I study her face, not with the scrutinizing eyes of an ex-Navy SEAL, not with my ever-rising skepticism, not counting any cost in assessing a situation, but with a tender curiosity that catches me by surprise. Her features, delicate yet resilient, are softened in repose, and I find her unexpectedly beautiful. I had never expected to see myself in such a vulnerable position with anyone, let alone Amber. At the moment, it’s as though I can see through her clothes, past her skin, past her blood vessels—rushing through with her blood straight to her heart—to see the strong-willed woman I’d encountered on the plane and the beautiful woman I’m trapped here with.

Amber’s peaceful expression reveals a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before, and it calls out to something within me. Despite the chaos that surrounds us, there’s a sense of tranquility in this moment.

My thoughts wander as I watch her, and my rational mind tells me to pull back, to keep a safe emotional distance, yet my heart is strangely open, receptive to the connection we’ve begun to forge.

As I stare, caught between vulnerability and strength, I see a small bug make its way across Amber’s hair. I can’t tell what insect it probably is, but it’s slow, probably thinking we’re one of the several objects that had been long forgotten up here. Instinctively, I reach out to brush it away, wanting to shield her from any discomfort. My touch is gentle, but it’s enough to rouse her from her slumber.

Amber blinks, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. I retract my hand, feeling a twinge of guilt for having interrupted her rest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, my voice reflecting my contrition.

Amber waves my apology away. “No need to apologize. How long have I been asleep?”

I can’t help but offer a touch of humor in the midst of our predicament. “Time is a tricky thing when your trapped in the d. Without a clock, it’s hard to say.” It’s a bittersweet reminder of the isolation we’ve endured.

Amber, undeterred by my sarcasm, chuckles softly, her laughter a soothing sound in the dimness. “True enough. This place feels like a world of its own.”

In the midst of our uncertainty, Amber’s laughter is a brief respite. She places a hand on my shoulder and supports herself to stand. She stretches and yawns for some thirty seconds and begins to walk toward the rubble that had been lying in the corners of the rooftop for years. I wonder what she’s up to, but I quietly keep on watching.

There’s a door just before the pile of rubble, and she opens it. Oh, I think. She’s pressed. She had figured out where the bathroom was. I smirk, finding her resourcefulness funny.

Soon, she returns. She walks back up to where I am and sits beside me. We are quiet for a moment, but then she breaks the air, concern slightly shrilling her voice.

“What if we never get out of here, Derrick?”

I wait for a moment, then I mutter, “Then archeologists will find our bones in some hundreds of years. So, we had better lay well.”

“Stop, Derrick! It’s not funny,” she cries.

“I’m sorry but even if we scream, we are not sure anyone would hear us. So let’s just be calm and think of what to do.”

“But all we’ve been doing since is lamenting, sleeping, and eating canned mackerel.”

“At least.”

“Oh, Derrick,” Amber says, her voice a soft murmur, her hands cradling her head. “I’m scared. I really am.”

Her vulnerability tugs at my heartstrings, and my protective instincts spring to life. In this confined space, there’s no room for barriers, no masks to hide behind. The vulnerability we’ve seen in each other has brought us closer.

Without hesitation, I shift closer to her. The instinct to comfort her, to make her feel safe in the midst of our shared fear, is too strong to ignore. My hands reach out, gently cupping her face, my fingers brushing against her cheeks. My touch is tender, a silent reassurance that I’m here, that she’s not alone in this.

Amber leans into my touch, her eyes searching mine for a glimpse of solace. There’s an unspoken understanding between us, a silent pact that acknowledges our fears and the deepening connection we’re forging.

My thumbs softly caress her cheeks, as if I can wipe away her worries with a simple touch. She lets out a sigh, her body relaxing against mine. There’s a hint of trust in the way she surrenders to my hold.

“Amber,” I say in a voice that’s barely a whisper, “we’re in this together. We’ll find a way out. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s as if we’ve forgotten where we are the chaos outside, and the uncertainty that looms over us. In each other’s presence, we’ve found a rare island of comfort, a haven amid the turmoil.

My arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her close, as if I can shield her from the harsh realities that have befallen us. The gentle warmth of her body against mine is a reassurance, a reminder that in this dark moment, we’re not alone.

As Amber leans into my embrace, she doesn’t put up any resistance. Her fear, her vulnerability, I feel it all come together in this simple act of seeking comfort. My arms encircle her, holding her close as she lays her head against my shoulder. On the dimly lit roof, amid the uncertain times, there’s a silent understanding that binds us.

“Thank you,” she mutters out to me.

I stroke her hair in response. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I’m doing it.

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