Amara regarded him with a puzzled expression, her mind racing with questions. *Why did he respond like that?* Max caught her gaze and smiled, an unexpected warmth in his eyes.
"Amara, do you know the rumor about me and my father?" he asked suddenly.
She remained silent, her heart fluttering. Of course, she had heard the whispers, but she chose not to voice them.
"As you've heard, it's about me coming here. They say that when my father remarried, he forgot me, that he focused solely on his new family and tried to get rid of me by sending me away. Here " He chuckled lightly, but there was an edge to his laughter. "But the truth is, I came here by choice. My father actually tried to bring me back home—he made multiple attempts."
He turned to her, his smile softening. "But you already know this, don't you?"
Amara met his gaze, confusion swirling in her mind. *Is he too drunk?*
"Sir, what do you mean?" Amara asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"I'm saying, Amara, why are you lying?" Max replied, his blue eyes piercing through her defenses.
"What? Sir, I'm not lying," she said, striving to maintain a calm demeanor, but it felt futile against the certainty in his gaze. Max was all too aware of her family's situation.
"Amara, the rumor about you coming here on purpose—that you're just a spoiled girl making your family angry—I already know it's fabricated. It's made by you. We've known each other long enough for me to see the truth. I've witnessed the way they treat you, the abuse, the insults. And that's just what I can see; I can only imagine the things you've kept hidden."
Amara stared at him in silence, realizing there was no point in hiding the truth any longer.
"Amara, why are you leaving?" he pressed again, his voice steady but filled with concern.
"I'm going to be engaged to Lord Len," she replied, the words feeling heavy. She didn't want to admit it, especially not to the one she loved, but she knew it was her reality.
Max's surprise was evident. "Len? Lord Len? He's so old—are you being forced?"
"He's not that old," she said in a calm voice, trying to steady her emotions.
Max raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Old enough—he's like 40 or more," he retorted.
"And I'm 20! I don't see your point," she replied, her resolve hardening. She respected Lord Len; he had always treated her kindly. Even though this engagement was forced by her family, she found some comfort in the idea of marrying him.
"But you don't love him," Max insisted, stepping closer, his gaze intense.
"So what, sir? He's a good match for me," Amara replied, striving to keep her voice steady.
"But you don't love him," he repeated, leaning in even more, their faces just inches apart.
"I do respect him, and I think he'll be good to me," she said, struggling to maintain her composure.
"But you love me," Max said, his voice low as he closed the distance between them. Amara could feel his breath.