The Scar He Left: Finding True Love

Aminda POV

The ballroom was a suffocating sea of silk and diamonds. The scent of expensive perfume hung heavy in the air, sweet enough to choke on.

I stood near the entrance, anchored in a simple black dress I had bought three years ago. It was the only formal thing I owned. In this crowd, I looked exactly like what I was: the help.

Colton stood in the center of the room.

He was standing. Without crutches. Without me.

He looked magnificent in a tuxedo, his broad shoulders filling out the fabric, his height commanding the space. He was the Golden Boy of the tech world again. The broken man I knew was gone.

And draped over his arm, looking like she had been sheathed in liquid gold, was Charlie Mack.

She was beautiful in the way a predator is beautiful. Sharp, sleek, and dangerous.

"Look at them," a woman whispered near me. "A match made in heaven. I heard she flew back from Paris just for this."

"He looks so happy," another replied. "Like the accident never happened."

Like I never happened.

Colton scanned the room. His gaze slid over the crowd and landed on me.

For a second, I expected him to smile. To wave. To acknowledge that he was standing on legs I had helped rebuild, muscle by painful muscle.

Instead, his brow furrowed. He leaned down, whispered something to Charlie, and they began to cut through the crowd toward me.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Maybe he would explain. Maybe he would say the conversation I overheard was a misunderstanding.

"Aminda," Colton said. His voice was cool, professional. "You're late."

"I had to clean up," I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands.

Charlie smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "So this is the little therapist? Colton told me how... dedicated you were."

She twisted the word 'dedicated' until it sounded like 'desperate'.

"She did her job," Colton said, cutting in. He didn't look at me. He looked at the guests watching us. "Aminda, I need you to grab a glass of water for Charlie. She's parched from the flight."

The air left my lungs.

He wasn't introducing me. He was giving me an order.

Jayden appeared beside us, his face dark. "Colt, seriously? Get a waiter."

"It's fine," Colton waved him off, his eyes fixed on Charlie with a sickening adoration. "Aminda knows what Charlie likes."

I didn't move.

"Actually"-my voice was quiet but clear-"I don't."

Colton's head snapped toward me. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't used to resistance. Not from me. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not a waitress, Colton. And as of this afternoon, I'm not your therapist anymore either."

A hush fell over the immediate circle of people.

Charlie laughed, a light, tinkling sound. She stepped closer, looping her arm possessively through Colton's. She looked at me with victory dancing in her pupils.

"Oh, honey," Charlie cooed, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. "Don't be like that. We all know you developed a little... crush. It happens. The patient-doctor transference thing. But Colton is back in the real world now. His world."

She gestured around the opulent room. "This world isn't for you, Aminda. You're young. You'll find someone... simpler. Someone who needs fixing."

I looked at Colton. I waited for him to defend me. To tell her to stop.

He just sighed, looking annoyed. "Charlie is right, Aminda. Don't make this awkward. You were a great employee. Let's leave it at that."

Employee.

The word hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

Three years of sleeping on a cot in his room when he had nightmares. Three years of holding his hand. Three years of I owe you a future.

"Employee," I repeated.

I reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. My hand was steady now. The shaking had stopped. A cold clarity had set in.

"To the happy couple," I said.

I downed the drink in one swallow, the bubbles burning my throat.

"Good luck, Colton," I whispered. "You're going to need it."

I placed the empty glass on a table with a deliberate clink.

I turned my back on him.

"Aminda!" Colton called out, his tone warning. "Walk away now and don't expect a reference."

I kept walking.

I cut through the crowd of staring faces. I felt their pity, their amusement. Look at the poor girl who thought she had a chance.

But as I pushed through the heavy double doors into the cool night air, I didn't feel shame.

I felt lighter.

I had my luggage packed in the cottage. I had a flight booked for 6:00 AM.

I was done.