For a few seconds, no one moved.
The soft background hum of the gallery faded into silence, like the room itself had paused to witness what would happen next. Amelia stood rooted between them—Daniel tense, barely contained beside her; Julian calm, calculating, too smooth.
"I said," Daniel repeated, voice cold, "stay away from her."
Julian tilted his head, the smirk never leaving his face. "I think you're confusing concern with control."
Amelia stepped forward before either man could escalate. "Enough," she said, sharp enough to cut through the tension.
Both men turned to her.
"This night was about the art," she said, her voice quieter but steadier now. "About everything I poured into that canvas. And you're turning it into a performance."
Julian's smile thinned. "Darling, that's exactly what it is. You just didn't realize you were the lead actress."
Daniel's fists curled, but Amelia reached for his hand—stopping him.
"Not here," she whispered, her fingers closing around his.
Julian's eyes flicked down to the gesture. A beat passed.
Then, with a shrug, he stepped back. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. I'm sure the critics will have plenty to say."
He turned and disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the elegant swirl of conversation and champagne.
Only then did Daniel breathe.
Amelia turned to him, her hand still lightly gripping his. "Thank you. For being here. For not walking away."
His expression was unreadable. "I nearly didn't come."
"I know."
"I wasn't sure if I could watch you give the world something that belonged to just us."
Her voice softened. "But it doesn't just belong to us anymore. It's bigger than that now. What we have… it's changed me."
Daniel looked at her—really looked. "And Julian?"
"He's part of my past," she said carefully. "But you… you're the part that scares me because it's real."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Then let it be real. No more shadows, no more closed doors. But I need to know I'm not competing with ghosts."
"You're not," she said. "But this—us—it's fragile. And I need you to trust me when I say I'm still learning how to hold it."
He nodded slowly. "Then let's learn together."
The moment stretched between them. Then, without words, he leaned in—pressing his forehead to hers.
Not a kiss.
Something deeper.
A promise.
And just like that, the world faded. The gallery, the eyes, the critics, Julian—all of it blurred into background noise.
There was only this: the breath between them. The truth.
And the lingering sense that the real storm hadn't even begun yet.