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24: A LINE DRAWN IN SAND
The jet sliced through the sky, carrying them away from the island, away from the nights they spent tangled in each other—especially last night. Amelia sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the endless stretch of clouds beneath them. Her fingers gripped the armrest, not from turbulence but from the unbearable tension suffocating the cabin. Across from her, Andrew sat with one ankle resting over his knee, his posture deceptively relaxed. A newspaper lay in his lap, unread. His jaw was locked, his fingers drumming idly against the leather armrest. They hadn’t spoken since leaving the suite. Not after the way she had slipped out of bed at dawn, careful not to wake him. Not after the way he had watched her in silence as she packed her things, his expression unreadable. And cer
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