S.. “Anthony smiles at Amber, but his heart is tangled with Shayla.

 “Anthony smiles at Amber, but his heart is tangled with Shayla.

He acts sweet, he acts loyal—but Anthony’s mind is already playing a dangerous game with Shayla.”

Shadows of the Heart

Anthony leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes flickered to Amber, who was stacking glasses behind the bar. On the surface, he smiled politely, but there was an edge in his gaze, a storm hidden behind his calm demeanor.

Amber glanced at him nervously. “You okay?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

“I’m fine,” he said smoothly, voice controlled, yet his eyes betrayed the storm within.

He wasn’t fine. Not at all. Ever since Shayla mentioned that Iman would furnish their new house, Anthony couldn’t shake the heat rising in his chest. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was humiliation. He had promised Shayla he would furnish a room for Kai himself, even expressed that he wanted to adopt him someday. Yet, everything had been blocked, and now Shayla was moving forward without him.

Amber didn’t know the whole story. She only saw Anthony being cold at home, snapping at her over trivial things, yet turning on the charm when someone else was around. She had tried to ignore it, thinking maybe he was stressed, but deep down, she knew something was off.

“Why don’t you ever help around here?” Anthony finally asked, leaning closer, his tone deceptively calm.

Amber stiffened. “I… I manage. You know this is my shift, Anthony.”

“Yeah, but it’s our bar, isn’t it? Why am I always stuck at home while you’re out here working late?” he asked, his jaw tightening.

Amber hesitated. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t about him, that it was about her commitment, but she felt the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air.

Meanwhile, Anthony’s mind raced. Shayla, she’s moving on… she doesn’t need me. And now Amber… Amber’s just a cover, someone to vent my frustration on.

He forced a smile. “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. You’ve been working so hard, I just…” His voice softened as he handed Amber a jacket. “Here, put this on. Don’t catch a cold.”

Amber accepted it silently, sensing the strange mix of concern and manipulation. She looked at him closely. There was tension in his shoulders, a flicker of guilt, and yet… a dangerous pride that kept him from stepping into the real issue.

Later that evening, as Amber closed the bar, Anthony followed her to the porch, pretending casual concern.

“You shouldn’t be walking barefoot out here, Amber.” His voice was low, almost tender.

Amber glanced at him, confused. “I’m fine, really.”

“You’re not fine,” he insisted, the mask slipping for a brief second. “I… I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Amber sighed, her patience wearing thin. She knew the truth—Anthony’s heart wasn’t here. Not completely. It was still with Shayla. Every action, every word he uttered had a hidden motive, a subtle play to protect the one he really cared about while keeping Amber in the dark.

Anthony watched her walk inside, and for a moment, the jealousy softened into longing. He wanted Shayla back in a way he couldn’t admit, even to himself. And yet, he stayed behind, pretending the night was calm, pretending that Amber mattered more than the storm in his chest.

He sat on the porch, jacket on his knees, and stared at the darkened streets. His thoughts were a tangle of regret, desire, and strategy.

Shayla… you don’t even know what you’ve done to me.

Amber peeked from the doorway, sensing the tension but choosing silence. She didn’t trust herself to speak the words that might trigger the truth.

Inside, Anthony’s phone buzzed. A message from Shayla. He ignored it, hiding the phone behind his back, his thumb hovering over the screen, not ready to face the reality of his own longing.

Amber leaned against the doorframe, watching him, feeling the cold seep into her bones—not from the porch, but from the invisible wall that had grown between them.

“Anthony, if you’re going to sit there, at least let me finish locking up.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp.

He nodded, still silent, lost in thoughts of another woman, another life he wished he could reclaim. The night stretched on, the bar lights dimming in the distance, and Anthony remained seated, caught between guilt, love, and the desire to control what he couldn’t have.

The porch remained quiet, the tension thick enough to suffocate, and Amber realized something terrifying: she was a pawn in a game she hadn’t even agreed to play.

Anthony finally stood, brushing the dust from his jeans. “Goodnight, Amber. Don’t worry about anything… I’ve got it under control.”

Amber nodded slowly, sensing the hollow ring in his words. She closed the door behind her, leaving Anthony alone with his conflicted heart and the shadows of Shayla lingering in his thoughts.

The night ended, but the story… was far from over.