A Week Later.
The sky poured like it was trying to wash away the city's sins. The kind of rain that blurred headlights.
Jason parked his car and stepped out, umbrella tucked under his arm, his eyes caught a figure curled up near the door of his building.
He squinted. Someone was sitting on the stairs… drenched.
As he got closer, he realized who it was. "Amari?"
She looked up, eyes red, hair matted to her face, dress soaked and clinging. She was holding something wrapped in a soggy paper bag.
He stood frozen for a moment, then let out a sigh, and said in a low voice.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, pulling her to her feet and guiding her toward the door. "Why would you stay out in this cold? What if I didn't come back tonight?"
"I called…" she said softly. "Left messages. You never replied."
He didn't say anything. He had seen the calls. He'd ignored them.
"I didn't know what else to do," she added. "So I came in person."
Inside, she sat on his couch wrapped in a towel while he changed into dry clothes. He handed her a cup of tea.
Looking at the clingy wet dress on her, he was aroused, but he quickly discard the thought.
"I'm sorry," she said, eyes locked on the cup. "It was wrong of me to judge you. I believed the worst without even asking for the truth. And I'm not proud of that. That was no way to pay you back for everything you've done for me.
She handed him the soggy bag. Inside was a small, framed lyric sheet. His favorite song of hers, handwritten. Signed at the bottom with: "For the one who heard me amidst the noise."
He stared at it. Silent. The weight of the moment sinking in.
"I don't expect you to forgive me," she added. "I just wanted you to know that I'm very sorry."
"I'll forgive you," he said slowly, his tone lighter.
Her eyes flickered with hope.
"But on one condition."
"What's that?" she asked cautiously.
"You go on a date with me."
For a minute she was silent. Okay, lets go on a date. She said looking down like she fell into a dead trap.
Their first date was in a small, hidden rooftop café, a bottle of wine, and a warm breeze carrying music from a nearby street band.
They talked for hours.
About music. Childhood wounds. Dreams. The weight of the spotlight. The loneliness in crowded rooms. The first heartbreak. The worst mistake.
For the first time, Amari saw the real Jason. The boy behind the stardom, the man behind the eyes that always looked half sad.
And Jayson saw her raw, passionate, stubborn, scared and utterly captivating personality.
Weeks Later
They became inseparable. But not loud. Not flashy.
They were quiet in love.
He'd wait at the back of her studio rehearsals, sunglasses low on his nose, smiling like a fool as she sang. She'd leave notes in his script books before film shoots. They'd spend nights making playlists together, sometimes dancing barefoot in his living room, forgetting the world.
She was his muse.
And he was hers.
They where happily in love away from the spotlight.
Not until the doorbell rang.
She was wearing his shirt. She went to get the door, expecting a delivery or maybe a neighbor. But it was woman standing there, flawless and ice eyed, with a strong presence.
"Hi," the woman said, stepping past her without invitation. Her perfume was sharp, suffocating.
Who are you? Amari asked.
Oh, where are my manners! She said sarcastically, as if she had really forgotten to introduce herself.
"I'm Stella Williams. Jason's fiancee."
Amari stood frozen, heart plummeting like a deadweight.
"I'm sorry!" Amari exclaimed maintaining composure.
Stella turned, her lips curling into a smile laced with cruelty. "Did he not tell you? Jason and I have been engaged for a year. He must've mentioned it." No?
Jason's hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"Stella, what the hell are you doing here?"
She spun around to face him. Jason. You didn't tell her you were engaged? That I was chosen by your late mother, "Mrs. Leonard".
Do not bring my Late mother into this. He said.
His eyes darted between them, guilt, panic, disbelief. He turned to Amari, but words failed him.
You are engaged?
She shook her head, a dry laugh slipping out. "You didn't think that was important to tell me?"
"Go get dressed." Stella added. We're going to the family home. Your father asked me to come get you.
Amari quietly went upstairs, dressed up. When she came back out, Jason was by the stairs. He held her.
She turned to look at him.
He said softly, with a low vice. I'll fix this. I promise.
And with that, she walked out.
Stella Watched the door close, she smirked with satisfaction.
At they Jason's mansion.
Father, I know I gave you my word, and I'm sorry for going back on it.
Back then I didn't know what it felt like to love and to be loved in return.
"I'm sorry but the engagement is off."
"Love doesn't build empires. Alliances do." said Mr. Williams, Stella's father.
I'm sorry uncle.
"you'd have to look for someone else to merge empires with," "I won't be a pawn." He bowed respectfully and left.
Outside they mansion, he pulled out his phone, heart pounding, "Call."
It rang once. Twice.
She answered.
But silence.
"Please…" he said softly, gripping the door of his car. "Let's talk.
For a moment, he thought she'd hang up. But then, her voice came, soft, tired, but composed.
"You know where to find me."
Click.
The line went dead.
An hour later, he stood outside her apartment.
She opened the door before he knocked.
Her eyes met his, red rimmed from hours of crying she'd never admit to.
Jason stepped inside, his breath catching slightly. The room was dimly lit, her guitar leaning against the couch.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, arms folded tightly.
He turned to face her.
"I was going to," he said. I thought I had time to fix things.
It was an arranged marriage. I agreed to it because I never experienced love, and also my late mothers choice.
"I broke it off after we met. My father didn't accept it.
I didn't invite her, she just showed up. I guess she and her family isn't accepting it as well.
He stepped closer. "I love you Amari. Tenderly, lifting her chin so her eyes met his.
Silence lingered between them. Thick, warm, electric.
Then she leaned forward, rested her forehead against his chest, and whispered, "I'm scared."
He wrapped his arms around her, tighter than ever. "Then be scared with me. But don't let them take this from us."
And as the rain continued to fall softly outside, they stood in the center of the living room, quietly piecing each others back.
Mean while.
At the top floor of a luxury high rise, the private lounge walls were draped in shadow, the only lights came from a flickering fireplace and a low hanging chandelier.
Mr. Williams poured another round of eighteen year old Scotch into two thick glasses.
"Don't tell me you'll let your son have his way," Williams said, swirling the glass in his hand with slow precision.
Jason's father, Richard Leonard didn't look up. His square jaw was clenched, his expensive cufflinks catching the light as he rested his arms on the table.
"I suppose you're going to suggest something". he said. lifting his eyes to meet his. Cold. Calculating.
"Everyone loves a pure soul," he said. Your son is not an exception. But if that soul was to be impure and depraved, "would Jason adore her still".
He still carries your name. He'll never allow it to be dragged through the mud".
The two men stared at each other for a beat, Richard's interest piqued. He gave a consensual nod.
Mr. Williams whispered into the ear of his waiting assistant. The man nodded, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows.