The jazz club buzzed with anticipation, a low hum of glasses clinking and murmurs building beneath the velvet lights. Amira stood behind the curtain, fingers trembling slightly around the microphone, her heart echoing louder than the baseline warming up behind her.
Tonight, she wasn't just singing — she was bleeding.
And he was here.
Noah.
Seated near the stage like a ghost from a fever dream, hair slicked back, suit expensive, and smirk too calm for someone who'd wrecked her. His presence slashed through her calm like a knife through silk. Luca stood at the bar, jaw clenched, hand in a tight grip around his glass, eyes never leaving her.
Her heart twisted between two men. One from her past, who'd shattered her soul like glass. The other from her present — raw, steady, and slowly igniting something deeper than she'd ever meant to feel again.
She forced a breath, letting the opening chord hum through her. The lights dimmed. Her cue came.
And she stepped into it.
---
"You say you miss me,
But where were you when the lights went out?
You say you love me,
But silence was the loudest sound…"
Her voice curved around the lyrics, drenched in heartbreak and velvet ache. Every note peeled back a layer of the betrayal still echoing in her chest. She didn't dare look at Noah, not even as his body leaned forward, lips parted, stunned by the storm he'd left behind.
But she did glance at Luca. Briefly.
And his gaze?
It was pure fire — not the kind that burned, but the kind that made you feel warm in the middle of winter.
---
After the set, the applause was thunderous — but she felt hollow, exposed. She retreated backstage, adrenaline shaking her limbs. She barely had time to breathe when Noah pushed through the corridor like he owned it.
"Amira," he said, breathless. "You wrote that about me?"
She stared at him. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not worth a whole verse."
He grabbed her wrist gently, but firm. "You flew across the ocean to see me. You don't just erase love like that."
She pulled free. "You ghosted me, Noah. Like I was disposable."
His jaw flexed. "It was complicated."
She laughed coldly. "No, it was cruel."
Just then, Luca appeared.
"Everything okay?" he asked, stepping between them, tall and protective, voice a low warning.
Noah's nostrils flared. "Is this what we're doing now? Rebound with the band guy?"
Amira's hand touched Luca's arm. "He's not a rebound."
Luca's gaze never wavered. "She doesn't owe you anything, Noah."
---
Noah looked between them, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he muttered, "We're not done," and walked off.
The silence afterward was thick with tension.
Amira sighed. "I didn't want him to see that song."
Luca tilted her chin gently up. "Then why did you sing it?"
She hesitated, then said softly, "Because I wanted him to hear it."
He didn't pull away. "And what do you want me to hear, Amira?"
Her breath caught. She didn't have an answer.
But her body did — the subtle lean in, the way her hand gripped his shirt, the way her lips parted slightly like they'd forgotten what it meant to wait.
His forehead touched hers.
"You don't have to pretend anymore," Luca murmured. "I'm not him. And I never will be."
There was no pretense between them anymore.
Not when her body pressed closer to his backstage, tucked in the shadowed corridor where the scent of cheap whiskey and old wood mixed with the heat between them. Amira's breath hitched as Luca's hand found her waist, grounding and sinful, pulling her gently against him.
"Luca…" she whispered, not in hesitation but in surrender.
His lips hovered just above hers. "Tell me to stop," he said hoarsely.
She didn't.
Instead, she kissed him — fierce, hungry, years of heartbreak and confusion crashing into one urgent moment. Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him deeper into the storm of her desire.
Their mouths danced — slow, then frenzied — as if they were breathing through each other. She gasped when his lips found the pulse on her neck, sucking lightly, leaving a mark that burned hotter than any spotlight ever had.
"I've wanted this," he murmured against her collarbone, "since the first night I heard you sing."
Amira's hands slid under his jacket, her fingers brushing his belt as she backed him against the door of the dressing room. She locked it behind them.
"You want me, Luca?" she asked breathlessly.
"More than I should," he rasped.
He lifted her effortlessly onto the vanity, scattering makeup brushes and perfume bottles. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips traveling from her throat to the swell of her chest. She arched into him, his hands gripping her thighs, his touch everywhere and not nearly enough.
Her dress slipped down her shoulders, flared sleeves hanging like wings behind her. She was moonlight and shadows, bare and breathtaking. Luca froze, gazing at her with reverence.
"God, Amira…" he whispered. "You're art."
Her skin burned beneath his words. She pulled him down to her, mouth to mouth, soul to soul. He kissed down her chest, over her ribs, worshipping every scar, every heartbeat.
Then he paused, his breath heavy.
"You okay?" he murmured.
She looked at him, truly looked — into the ocean of blue that held her when everything else broke.
"I want this," she whispered. "I want you."
That was all he needed.
---
Clothes melted away, replaced by heat, friction, and whispered names. Every touch was electric. Every kiss, a promise. Every movement, a release from the pain she'd carried.
He entered her slowly, and Amira exhaled sharply, forehead against his. They rocked together, rhythm like music, like jazz — unpredictable, untamed, and full of soul. Her moans were soft, sacred things against the walls.
She felt herself unravel — not in pain, but in something sacred. A crescendo.
Luca whispered her name like a prayer as she shattered in his arms.
---
Afterward, they lay tangled together, breathless. Her head rested on his chest, the thump of his heart steady and warm.
She had never felt this kind of safety — not even with Noah. This was different. This was real.
"I'm scared," she admitted softly.
"Of what?" Luca asked, fingers brushing her hair.
"Of what this means. Of what happens next."
He kissed her forehead. "Then we'll take it one song at a time."