Page 9 of No Ordinary Love

"Of course." His voice was soft, the anger tempered by a deeper emotion that told me he was feeling my pain as his own. "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you for not letting him string you along."

"But it hurts so much," I confessed, tears spilling over as I buried my face in my hand, the phone pressed to my ear as if it were the only thing keeping me anchored. "I love him, Dad. I thought he loved me too."

How could I have been so wrong?That question kept reverberating inside of me.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo." I could hear the emotion in my father's voice, the way it quivered just slightly as he spoke. "But sometimes people…they don't deserve our love. They take it for granted; they get too caught up in their own lives, their shit. That's not on you. That's on him."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I feel so lost. I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to move on from this."

"You're stronger than you think, Amara," he assured me, and I could hear the conviction in his voice, the belief he had in me even when I didn't have it in myself. "You'll get through this. And you don't have to do it alone. Come home if you need to. We'll figure it out together."

The thought of going home, of being wrapped in the safety of my father's embrace, of being in the place where I didn't have to be strong or put on a brave face, was almost too tempting. But I wasn't ready to give up on my life in Charleston because of Lucas. I had my career.

"Once we break after summer term, I'll come for a few days." My voice was a little steadier, the tears slowing as I absorbed the comfort of Daddy's words.

Lucas and I had planned to go to Rome between the summer and fall quarters—it would have been my first time. Would he go with Kath now?

Stop torturing yourself, Amara.

"Whenever you need to, come home," Daddy said firmly. "I'm here for you, Amara.Always."

"Thanks, Daddy," I whispered, my exhaustion catching up with me. "I love you."

"I love you too, kiddo." I could hear the emotion thick in his voice. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's a new day."

I nodded again, feeling lighter, a little less alone. "That's very Scarlett O'Hara."

He laughed then. "No one's ever compared me to a Southern Belle before."

After we ended the call, I let my phone slip from my fingers onto the bed beside me. Curling up on the bed, I closed my eyes and wished for sleep so I didn't have to hurt for a while.

Chapter 4

Lucas

"That's just guilt, Lucas," Amara said to me over the phone, her tone professor to student and nothing like the woman who'd been mine just three weeks ago.

"It's your fair share of—"

"I already told you how much to transfer based on the assessment. Now, you've just added to my workload—I have to go to the bank and send the excess back to you," she snapped.

"Amara—"

"We. Are. Done.Pleasestop texting me and asking me how I'm doing like we're friends because we're not," she continued in that emotionless voice of hers that she'd been using with me since that evening when we met at The Den. "And to answer your question, I'm not doing well, Lucas. I'm heartbroken. Having you continue to text me or try to call me just adds to my heartache. Until now, I had no choice but to speak with you so we could get sorted out on the townhouse and I could get mythings. But that's done, so I'm going to tell you now that after I hang up, I will be blocking your number—"

"No, Amara, don't do that." Fucking hell, she wanted me entirely out of her life. I couldn't fault her. I hurt her. I couldn't tell her I loved her; I just didn't know how I felt about her. The emotions Amara brought out were new and unique, different from anything I'd ever experienced with Kath; the only woman I had loved.

"Goodbye, Lucas," she whispered.

"Amara, I'm so sorry."

"I know, Lucas," she said so sincerely that it tore at me. "And so am I."

She hung up, and I released a long-held breath and leaned back into my office chair. The conversation had ended exactly how I feared it would—quietly, without drama, but with a finality that sliced through me. There was no anger, no bitter words; just two people acknowledging that what they had was over, like a candle softly flickering out.

My office, perched on the top floor of the Covington Building—an ornate, historic structure built by my great-grandfather in the late 1800s—felt like a tomb right now. The mahogany-paneled walls, heavy with family history, now seemed to close in around me. This space, with its sweeping views of the Charleston Harbor and the distant spires of old churches, had always been a source of pride, a testament to the legacy of Lowcountry Provisions Company. But today, it felt like a gilded cage, trapping me in memories of a life that had been built on expectations and obligations rather than love and fulfillment.

The floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one side of the room did little to lighten the heavy, oppressive atmosphere. The view outside reminded me of everything I had inherited, everything I had to live up to. Below, the city of Charleston hummed withlife, unaware of the personal storm brewing in the office above; inside of me.

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