Amara Luciano twisted a makeup brush between her fingers. Her jaw ticked as her hair was weaved into an intricate braid. It was her birthday but her mind was somewhere else.

The other day, she had seen Natasha and Elijah together. Of course, that didn't mean anything. They could be discussing how to tell Primo the truth. Or maybe it was a coincidence.

Her instincts told her differently.

She let out a sigh.

"Miss, is it not to your liking?" the stylist asked, meeting her eyes on the mirror.

Amara hummed. She turned to see her hair in a big, loose braid adorned with diamond flower pins. It looked like what elves wore on the movies Arwen liked.

"Fine." She stood up and went to her closet. A silver dress hung on the sides with capped sleeves and an open back. She went along with what her sister wanted but at least she loved the color of her dress.

Amara changed into her gown and proceeded to the ballroom. Her dad waited for her at the top of the stairs. She chuckled at how her father debated on who should be her escort.

"Dad! At least pretend to look happy," she muttered when she saw his scowl.

"I am happy," he replied. "I just don't like you getting older."

Amara softly kissed his cheek as she linked their arms. They walked towards the stairs and her eyes widened at the view.

Snowflakes and icicles hang from the ceiling. Frost covered trees and flowers lined the ballroom and the staircase. The light was dim, giving the place a winter glow.

They walked down further and she noticed that the stairs, chairs, and table centerpieces were covered in fake frost.

"I thought this was—"

"Primo told us," her dad said. "He's the one who convinced Arwen we should do an... Elsa? Whatever that means."

She chuckled. "I love it."

"Happy birthday, princess." Her dad escorted her to the right side where a makeshift throne sat.

Two frosted trees were folded in an archway. The throne chair was silver with a dark grey faux fur hanging over it. She took a seat as a chorus of greetings filled the air.

Amara had never liked parties. Her movements were watched and everything she did would reflect on her parents. She hated how she needed to appear like nothing ever bothered her.

But seeing the venue, she wondered what else she could get away with. The thought, as much as it bothered her, also excited her. Weird.

The party started with dinner before the guests came forward to give their gifts and greetings. She had invited people she actually liked that smiling didn't hurt as much.

Then, there were requests of her playing a piece before the dancing began. She took several pictures with her guests as the music switched from soft to upbeat.

Amara danced with them, noticing Isla tripping a little. She smirked a little, knowing someone had put alcohol again. Her eyes searched for Primo and Natasha and even Elijah.

Surprise, surprise.  They're missing.

She slipped out and headed for the piano room. If Primo wasn't there, then maybe the three of them were finally talking.

Amara was mistaken. She didn't have to peruse the white-walled room and the mahogany furniture to know that Primo was on the balcony. The wind blew as she trudged to the open doors.

"You hate birthdays that much?" she mumbled, folding her arms.

Primo laughed, walking towards her with hands in his pockets. He wore a simple two-piece royal blue suit that brought out his eyes. "I don't hate birthdays."

"I've caught you at least five times here," she said. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"For convincing Arwen. I hope she didn't cry."

"You kidding? Arwen worships you." He scanned her form, smiling as their eyes met. "Everyone worships you."

Amara frowned at his choice of words. They headed inside with her mind wondering where Natasha was. Clearly, Primo could care less. She figured that he had a problem of his own.

"You know what... we haven't dance yet." Primo set up the gramophone and record. He offered his hand to her as 'Smoke Gets In Your Eyes' started. "We should dance."

"Is that a way to ask?" she complained but accepted his hand. They swayed to the music although she heard Primo sighed many times. His hand tensed on her back. "Are you okay?" she asked when they parted.

"Hmm, you're gorgeous." He tucked a curl over her ear. "Though, I'd prefer a low cut and see that tattoo."

"Primo..." she chastised. "Why are you here? Why aren't you with Natasha?"

"Yeah. About that..." He sat on a sofa with a wrinkled forehead. "My dad... he sends me letters."

Amara set her lips in a tight line as she sat beside him. "Dad... as in?"

"Yes. I thought I'd be fine but... I still hate him. I couldn't forgive him. He destroyed our family. He..." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Mom chased him, begged him not to leave us for that... woman... She crashed her car for running after that trash. That's unforgivable."

Amara held off her tears as she rubbed his back.

"If he didnt—why did he even..."

Amara reached for his trembling hands. She knew of Primo's insecurities of not being chosen and she was aware it would take work to leave all of his pain in the past. But she never knew he was this angry.

What if Natasha and Elijah were indeed playing with fire?

Could she watch as her best friend battle against his past hurt?

For a second, she hated herself for even encouraging him to pursue Natasha. Even if Primo didn't like her enough, he would still be furious. And worse... he might never forgive his biological dad.

Amara might never understand how agonizing it was to be rejected by one's parents. But her dad had told her of his own story... how Grandma Celeste wasn't a good mom to her father.

And that, it was only because her dad was so happy and in love with her mom that he had opened his heart and managed to move forward.

Amara could never accept seeing Primo full of hate.

That couldn't happen.

She hugged him, tucking his head at her neck. "It'll be okay. I promise."

✘✘

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