"why I'm with her? Huh? "
Max's voice was steady, but there was a distant look in his eyes.
I won't deny it—I didn't like her when I was a teenager. What started as friendship slowly turned into a sense of duty. She stood by me when my mother passed, and again when my father remarried. That's why I couldn't walk away. she choose to be the duchess "
He was still drinking but still he wasn't drunk.His words were raw, unfiltered, yet he knew exactly what he was saying.
Amara whispered, "I don't understand," her voice barely breaking the stillness, yet Max caught the tremor in her words. He turned to her, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You don't understand?" he echoed, curiosity piqued.
With a slight tremor in her heart, Amara met his gaze, a mixture of fear and determination swirling within her. She took a step closer, crossing the invisible line that separated them. "Yes," she said, her tone firming as confidence surged. "I don't understand why you're sad."
Max's eyes widened, astonished by her boldness. He remained silent, a silent invitation for her to continue.
"You don't trust her," she pressed, her heart racing. "If you did, why didn't you tell her you're the heir?"
Amara understood that she was no friend to him. Yet tonight, even as he teetered on the edge of drunkenness, she felt an undeniable urge to confront him, to speak her truth. Tomorrow might bring departure, and she didn't want to leave without saying what had long been bottled up inside her.
For too long, she had yearned to share laughter and conversation, but instead, she had settled for the role of a silent shadow in his life. She watched him from distance.
"How do you know that?" Max asked, his gaze piercing into hers.
"You're the princess's son; it's supposed to be you," Amara replied, her voice steady, though she was lying. The truth was, she had overheard a conversation between Max and her father.
"Amara, she knows that too, but she didn't…" Max trailed off, his words hanging in the air. His eyes locked onto hers, and an unsettling silence fell between them.
"What are you going to do now? Are you still..." Amara finally asked.
"No I won't " he said.
"Then What are you going to do now?" She asked.
" Well, I'm 21....... I'm tired.... I think I'm going to get married when my father chooses someone, or maybe I'll choose myself," he said, opening his eyes wide. A smile crept across his face as he added, "I have someone in mind."
He looked directly into Amara's eyes, but she quickly turned her face away.
"What about you, Amara?" Max shifted the topic.
"Excuse me?" Amara replied, surprised.
"I heard you're leaving today or tomorrow. Why?" he asked.
""I have to go to my parents' house. I really miss them , I was away from home for more than three years because of the war. They must miss me too. You know I came here when I was just 16" Amara said.
Max, however, only laughed in response. He knew her too well. Whenever Amara lied, she had a habit of over-explaining.
"You miss them?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he stood up and lazily dropped onto the couch. His smirk lingered, daring her to keep up the act.