The Beauty in Eternity

Chapter 68.

I flip the pancake, listening to the sizzle as it reaches the frying pan again. I sway my body to the soothing music playing through my phone speaker, filling the small kitchen. It's still early and the morning sun is pouring through the window onto my skin, I close my eyes for a second and relish in its warmth.

I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist, a kiss being planted on my neck. "You're in a good mood," he yawns in a husky voice. "Anything to do with last night?" a smirk appears on his face as he rests his chin on my shoulder.

"Maybe it has a little something to do with it." I shrug, pouring more pancake batter into a questionable shape.

"A little?"

"Just a little." I chuckle.

He takes a step back and adjusts himself against the counter beside me, leaning on it with his elbow as he cocks his head, watching me flip the pancakes. A smile appears on his face as he watches me, his eyes flickering over my body.

"What?" I raise my brow, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I just cant understand how you're so perfect sometimes," he mutters soberly—his eyes never peeling from mine, despite my gaze being fixed on the task in front of me.

"I'm far from perfect." I scoff, giving him a small smile and a side glance.

"You are to me."

I glance at him momentarily, watching as his green eyes twinkle in the sun that blankets him through the window, before silently going back to my cooking; shuffling the freshly cooked pancakes onto a plate.

I pour the last batch of batter in with a sizzle, the calming silence in the room remaining.

"You know how much I love you, right?" he questions, adjusting his weight against the counter.

"I do,"

He pauses, "And you know I'm not going anywhere..."

I swallow, plating the final pancake in silence; a rhetorical question, one which I hate to endure each time he utters it.

"I know it's hard to believe me right now..," he clears his throat, "But I don't break promises."

I breathe in, closing my eyes. Let it go, Amara.

"I'm not going to leave like he did, Amara."

I slam the frying pan into the sink, turning my scornful gaze to him. "Stop! Just stop, okay?" I plea angrily.

"Amara..."

"No!" I yell, putting my hands up. "Stop talking about it, about him—and stop making promises you can't know you'll keep." I exhale shakily, the anger boiling inside of me.

I manoeuvre my way around him, walking briskly to my room where I grab a pair of jeans and a shirt, throwing them on as fast as I can. I hear his footsteps approaching the room and take deep breaths, trying to calm the growing concoction of anxiety and rage yielding inside of me.

"It's not a promise I can't keep, Amara." he sighs, crossing his arms against his chest in the doorway.

"Please, stop talking." I tell him calmly, despite how I wanted to scream it. The past is something which should stay exactly there, the past. Especially him.

I grab my shoes and pull them on, looking around for a jacket.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"Out."

I watch his teeth grit, "For the love of god, Amara! I'm not him!"

"Oh, I fucking know!" I retort with rage, my purse clutched in my shaky hand as I slam the door shut behind me.