Chapter 17
Amelia’s POV
Instead of going straight home like I’d planned after Edmund’s checkup, I found myself driving in the opposite directions, straight to Leyla’s house.
My emotions were a complete mess, like someone had thrown all of them into a blender and pressed start. I needed to talk to someone. Or maybe I just needed to sit with someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions until I was ready to talk, Otherwise, I was going to lose my mind.
And Leyla Leyla was always and would always be that person for me.
What the hell was I even thinking when I agreed to become Edmund’s personal doctor?
I must have lost it.
Maybe, just maybe, I had convinced myself that whatever I once felt for him had faded. That time had killed it. But the second I saw him again at the hospital, I should’ve known better.
Well, now I did. And tomorrow, I was going to call the CFO and ask for Angela to take my place as his personal doctor. I couldn’t do it, not when we my feelings was trying seep through the professional persona I was trying so hard to portray
I slowed the car two houses before hers and parked by the curb. My fingers hovered over the steering wheel before I grabbed my phone and dialed her number.
“Hey, girl!” Her bubbly voice sang through the line, and instantly, I felt the tiniest bit lighter. “What’s up?”
I cleared my throat quickly, trying to hide the little shakiness in my voice. “I’m good,” I lied softly. “Was wondering if you were at home.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m home. Where else would I be?”
“My house?” I teased weakly.
She snorted. “Not today. I’m at my house. Shocking, right?”
I let out a small laugh, though my chest still felt heavy. “Well, I was around the neighborhood and figured I could stop by and say hello to my favorite person.”
She snorted. “Flattering won’t take you anywhere, know that right?” She scolded.
“uhm… I don’t know. Are you sure about that?” I asked her.
“Well smartass, in regards to your early question, yes, I’m at home you smarty pants,” she said, “you can wall me when you’re close by.”
“You’ll see me in a moment,” I sighed, ending the call before I could change my mind.
Five minutes later, I was pulling into her driveway. I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat, squared my shoulders, and walked up to the door.
Leyla appeared almost instantly, fussing with the strings of an apron tied around her waist. “You didn’t even take ten minutes. Were you hiding on the next street?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Actually, I was two houses away.”
1/3
1:55 pm PPM M
Chapter 17
Her brows shot up, and then she grinned. “You’re so lucky I was home then? She pulled me into a waren hug that seriesberd faintly of flour and vanilla. “Hey, girl. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” I sighed, the kind of sigh that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken things.
Leyla pulled back from the hug just enough to study my face. Her eyes narrowed, full of concern.
“You good?”
I forced a smile, stretching my lips until they almost hurt. “Yes. Of course.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go with a small shrug, “Well, I’m relieved then,” she said, sinking onto the couch ! followed, sliding off my shoes and letting myself melt into the soft cushions like I hadn’t sat down properly all day.
“You sounded a little weird on the phone, though,” she added, her voice wiry, and her expression edged with worry. “I was this close to thinking something
I waved her off quickly. “Everything’s fine. Trust me.”
Before she could press further, I tilted my head, sniffing the air. “It smells so good in here,” I groaned dramatically, eyeing the apron tied around her waist. “What are you cooking?”
Her lips tugged into a small smile. “Just a little something for lunch.”
My curiosity sparked. “What’s on the menu?”
“Lemon butter chicken with caramelized onions,” she replied casually, like she hadn’t just described heaven on a plate.
“Ouuu….” I dragged the sound out, widening my eyes. “That sounds fancy.”
She chuckled. “For us? Maybe. Just something sweet and tangy for the nice weather we’re having.”
“I hope there’s room for one more serving.”
Leyla sighed, rolling her eyes as she pushed herself up from the couch. “If you help, maybe I could be generous enough to feed the hungry,” she teased. “So? Off to the kitchen with me?”
I laughed, dropping my bag on the coffee table. “Aye aye, captain.” I mock–saluted and followed her into the kitchen.
She handed me an apron, and once I tied it securely, I joined her at the counter. “So, ma’am,” I said in my best fake–serious tone, “what can the assistant chef help you with today?”
Leyla didn’t miss a beat. She grabbed two large onions, plopped them onto the counter in front of me, and smirked. “Start by chopping those.”
I gasped, clutching my chest. “You monster. You know I hate chopping that villain.”
She dropped a cutting board and a knife with an exaggerated flourish. “Chop, chop.”
I pouted, but deep down, I was grateful. If there was ever a good time to hide behind stinging eyes and a runny nose, it was now. At least if tears came, I’d have an excuse.
“Fine,” I muttered, grabbing an onion like it had personally offended me.
For a while, we worked in silence, the steady rhythm of chopping filling the air. It felt oddly soothing, giving my restless hands something to do. I focused so hard on slicing them the way Leyla liked that for a moment, I almost forgot how heavy
2/3
Chapter 17
Almost
“So” Leyla said casually, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “How was your first day as your ex–husband’s personal doctor?”
My knife froze mid–slice, My heart stopped for just a second before kicking back harder, faster.
Then, without even realizing it, my hands sped up, chopping faster than they should. My throat tightened, and before 1 knew it tears began to blur my vision.
I sniffed, hard, blinking rapidly as the floodgates opened. At first, I told myself it was just the onions. Just the onions. But the Truth slipped through with every drop that slid down my cheeks.
And just like that, I broke.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
