ANTHONY GOES TO AMBER WHILE VICTOR IS ALREADY THERE ! 😱😱

Anthony pushed open the old iron gate that led to Amber’s house. It creaked loudly, announcing his arrival even before he could knock. He hesitated for a second. His heart was pounding in his chest, not just from the hurried walk through the chilling evening air, but because of everything that had been swirling in his mind all day. He needed to see Amber — to explain, to apologize, to make things right.

The front porch light was already on, casting a warm glow against the growing darkness. As Anthony climbed the steps, he could see a shadow move inside the house, and for a moment, he allowed himself to hope she was waiting for him. He knocked, the sound sharp and urgent.

After a moment, the door swung open — and Anthony froze.

Victor was standing there.

Victor. Of all people. His former best friend, the guy who knew every detail of Anthony’s history with Amber, the one who promised he’d stay out of it.

Victor’s eyes narrowed when he saw Anthony, and the tension between them filled the space like a storm about to break. He leaned casually against the doorframe, blocking the entrance just enough to make his point without saying a word.

Anthony clenched his fists at his sides, trying to stay calm. "Is Amber here?" he asked, voice tight.

Victor smirked, that infuriating smirk Anthony knew too well. "She is," he said. "But she’s busy. Talking to me."

Anthony’s heart dropped. He could hear laughter from inside — Amber’s laughter — light and free, the way it used to sound when they were together. It was a sound he hadn’t heard from her in weeks, not since their fight.

"I just need five minutes," Anthony said, stepping forward. "Please."

Victor didn’t move. "She doesn’t owe you anything, Anthony," he said, voice low. "Maybe it’s time you realized that."

Anthony’s chest burned with anger and regret. He looked past Victor, into the warmly lit living room. Amber sat on the couch, her legs curled underneath her, a cup of tea in her hands. She hadn't noticed him yet. She looked... peaceful. Happier than he remembered seeing her for a long time.

And Victor was sitting right next to her.

"Let me talk to her," Anthony said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Let her decide."

Finally, Amber looked up. Her eyes met Anthony’s, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. A thousand emotions flickered across her face — surprise, sadness, anger — and then she set her cup down and stood.

"Victor," she said quietly. "It’s okay."

Victor hesitated, then stepped aside, his jaw tight. Anthony brushed past him, stepping into the house that once felt like home but now felt like foreign ground.

Amber stood across the room from him, arms folded, a guarded look in her eyes. The silence stretched long between them, thick with everything left unsaid.

"I’m sorry," Anthony blurted out. "I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you. I — I messed everything up."

Amber didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at him, like she was weighing his words, searching his face for the truth.

Victor shifted behind him, and Anthony could feel the weight of his presence like a shadow he couldn’t escape. He hated that Victor had gotten here first — hated that he might have been the one to help Amber heal while Anthony had been too lost in his own pride to come sooner.

"You hurt me," Amber said at last, her voice steady but soft. "And when I needed you to fight for us... you gave up."

Anthony’s throat tightened. "I didn’t know how to fix it," he said hoarsely. "But I’m here now. Tell me what to do, Amber. I’ll do anything."

She shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "You can’t just show up and expect everything to go back to the way it was."

"I’m not," Anthony said quickly. "I just... I just want a chance to make it right."

Victor stepped forward then, and Anthony turned to face him, ready for another confrontation. But Victor didn’t say anything. He just put a hand on Amber’s shoulder, gentle, supportive.

It hit Anthony then, hard and cold: he wasn’t just too late tonight — he had been too late for a long time.

Amber looked between them both, and Anthony could see the struggle in her eyes. Finally, she said, "I need time, Anthony. And space."

Anthony opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue. He nodded instead, the movement slow and painful.

Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the door. As he stepped onto the porch, the cold night air wrapped around him again. Behind him, he heard the door click softly shut.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the stars that were just beginning to pierce the dark sky. Somewhere inside, Amber and Victor were talking, laughing, maybe even building something new — something that didn’t have room for him anymore.

Anthony shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, the sound of the creaking gate behind him like a final goodbye.