Amara was silent as a stone as we drove to the airport, always staring out of the window. As we reached the tarmac, I climbed out first and headed straight towards the jet, not bothering to open her door or wait for her. Partially because I wanted her to see just how cold and ruthless I can be. But also because I was consumed by the need and urge to touch her in some way or other. But after last night, I was never touching her ever again.
She sat down by the window seat in the adjoining aisle, making me scowl harder. In a vain attempt to ignore her, I ideally scrolled through the magazine lying there. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed that she was struggling with the seatbelt, her face getting red with unspoken frustration. Rolling my eyes, I was about to reach out and help her whe
