Page 45 of The Spark

“You always do that?”

I looked up. “Do what?”

“Act like we didn’t spend half the night losing our damn minds.”

The fork paused halfway to my mouth. I set it down. “And what exactly do you want me to say, Amir?”

“The truth.”

I stood, walked around the counter, leaned against it like I needed something solid beneath me.

“The truth is… I don’t know what comes next.”

He took a slow breath. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

My brows pulled together. “Get what?”

“That I’m not trying to go back.”

The words settled over me like something sacred.

“You were mine before you even knew it,” he said, stepping closer. “I was just waiting for you to see it too.”

His hand lifted, thumb brushing along my jaw, tilting my face toward his.

“Say yes.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “Yes to what?”

“A date. A real one. Just me and you.”

And there it was—his truth. Gentle. Direct. With his chest wide open.

I didn’t hesitate.

“Okay.”

19

The city was glowing.

Not loud. Not frantic. But soft—tucked beneath a navy sky, each light flickering like it had something to whisper.

That’s how this place felt. The rooftop restaurant Amir had chosen sat above it all, with strings of warm bulbs woven through wooden beams, low music humming beneath the sound of silverware and laughter. Wind brushed against my shoulders like fingertips.

“This is… stunning,” I said, my voice small as the host led us to our table near the edge of the terrace. The skyline unfolded in front of us like a secret. “It’s almost too perfect.”

Amir smirked as he pulled out my chair. “Almost?”

I gave him a look. “Don’t get cocky.”

He grinned and nodded to the view. “I thought you’d like it. It reminded me of your art.”

I tilted my head. “How so?”

He didn’t look away from me. “Quiet, but powerful. Messy in the right places. Beautiful even when it’s raw.”

The words knocked the wind out of me.

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