His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87

“I love you too,” I whispered into her shoulder.

We cried for a while. Quiet tears. Deep ones. The kind you don’t rush.

By the time we stepped out of the car, the sun was rising slow and golden behind the terminals. She insisted on walking me inside, helping me with the luggage even though I told her I was fine. I wasn’t. But I didn’t want her to carry more than she already had.

After the final hug, after the whispered be safe and call me when you land, I turned away from her and didn’t look back.

Some goodbyes are better when you don’t see them watching you go.

The campus at Hyde Park was nothing like L.A.

No luxury cars. No paparazzi. No sound of Liam’s name whispered like a magic spell or a

curse.

Just trees swaying above cobblestone paths, students bustling past in their whites and kitchen shoes, and the faint smell of herbs and meat ‘drifting from open practice labs.

It was exactly what I needed.

A reset.

Lisa screamed the moment she saw me. “You’re here! Oh my god, finally!”

I smiled and let her drag me into the dorms.

She didn’t push me to talk. Not at first. She waited until we were curled up on my twin bed with takeout, an old reality cooking show playing in the background.

“Tell me what happened.”

So I did.

I walked her through it, what the doctors said, and the part of me I lost that day.

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Chapter 87

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When I finished, she didn’t say anything clever or soothing. She just hugged me. And cried

with me.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you’re standing right now.”

“Some days, I’m not.”

And that was enough.

She became my lifeline after that. Keeping me fed. Laughing at dumb memes. Dragging me to lectures. Making sure I didn’t disappear into my head again.

Jay kept texting too, random dad jokes, voice notes, offbeat memes, and clips he promised would “lift my mood.”

Sophia called with comforting consistency every other night, never letting me hang up until she heard me laugh at least once.

And Kelvin Black.

He surprised me the most. Gentle where I expected distance. Funny when I didn’t think I could laugh. He checked in every day. Not pushy. Just present.

I never thought we’d be friends. But now, I found myself looking forward to his texts more than I wanted to admit.

But Liam…

Nothing.

No calls. No messages. Just silence.

Until one afternoon, I came back from class, still smelling like burnt butter and sea bass, and found a small white box waiting at my door.

No return address. Just my name.

Inside was a single sheet of thick stationery, folded once.

His handwriting. I knew it instantly.

I sat on the edge of my bed, heart racing, and opened it.

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Chapter 87

Emily,

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I don’t know how to begin this letter because I’m afraid words will fail me again. Maybe I don’t deserve the chance to explain anything, but if nothing else, please let me say I’m sorry.

Not just for what you saw… but for all the ways I hurt you before and after it.

For the silence.

For the cowardice.

For thinking I could protect you by pushing you away when all you ever needed was the truth.

You once told me you didn’t know where we stood, and that was my fault. I should’ve told you I loved you the moment I realized it. I should’ve fought harder when I saw the pain in your eyes. I should’ve held you when you needed answers instead of leaving you alone to face questions that had nothing to do with you.

I saw you in that hospital bed.

Lying there because of me.

And I wanted to switch places. I would’ve given anything to take your pain.

But I can’t.

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