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Chapter 29 – Arya's POV
When Damon asked me to go out with him, I didn't know what to say at first.
Not because I didn't want to — I did — but because everything between us still felt so fragile. Like if we moved too fast, we'd shatter all the progress we'd made. But the way he asked... soft, hopeful, his voice tinged with nerves — like a man asking out his wife for the very first time — made my heart flutter.
So I said yes.
And now, here I was, standing in front of the mirror in a pale blue dress I hadn't worn in over a year. My fingers trembled slightly as I applied a touch of gloss, my mind racing. I hadn't felt this nervous in so long. It was ridiculous — I was married to this man. We had a child. But this was different.
This was new.
And Damon — this version of Damon — was someone I was still getting to know.
When I walked out into the hallway, I saw him standing by the front door. My breath caught in my throat.
He wore a dark button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black slacks. Simple, but he looked incredible. Clean-shaven, confident — but when he turned and saw me, his eyes widened, and that quiet Damon melted into someone else entirely.
"Wow," he said, voice low. "Arya… you look…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. The way he looked at me said it all.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I replied with a small smile.
Liam was with Damon's sister for the evening, so for once, we weren't rushing or checking the baby monitor. It felt surreal. Damon opened the car door for me, and I slid in, heart thudding like a teenager on her first date.
He took me to a small rooftop restaurant just outside the city. The kind with string lights, soft music, and a view that stretched for miles. As we walked in, his hand brushed mine gently, not grabbing — just grazing — like he was asking permission.
I let my fingers curl around his.
The warmth of his touch was steadying. Familiar.
We were led to a quiet table tucked in the corner, away from the few other couples. The sunset painted the sky in strokes of gold and lavender. For a while, we talked like old friends — easy, light, without the weight of what we'd been through.
He asked about my art, and I asked about his work. We laughed. I hadn't realized how much I missed hearing his laughter until tonight.
Then the music changed.
Soft, slow — a romantic piano ballad drifting through the air.
Damon stood, walked around to my side, and held out his hand.
"Dance with me?" he asked.
My heart stumbled. "Here?"
"There's no one watching," he said, voice low. "Just us."
I hesitated for a beat before placing my hand in his. He pulled me gently into his arms, guiding me to the small open space near the railing.
And just like that, we were dancing.
His hand rested lightly on my lower back, the other holding mine. My free hand found his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His touch was gentle but firm — a silent promise that he wouldn't let go.
We swayed slowly under the fairy lights and a sky full of stars.
I looked up at him, eyes searching. "You've changed," I whispered.
He met my gaze, voice low and vulnerable. "No. I think I just finally remembered who I was before I pushed you away. And I remembered that the only version of me worth being… is the one who loves you."
Something cracked open in my chest.
Before I could stop myself, I whispered, "I missed you."
His thumb brushed over the back of my hand.
"I missed you too, Arya. Every damn day."
Our bodies slowed, and the music faded into the background. We were no longer dancing to the tune — just to the rhythm of each other's hearts.
Then, slowly, his hand cupped my cheek.
His fingers were warm against my skin, steady, grounding. His eyes searched mine, asking a silent question. I didn't look away. I didn't flinch.
I leaned in first.
Just a little.
And he met me halfway.
The moment our lips touched, it was like something inside me broke wide open.
It was soft at first — tentative, like a whisper. His lips brushed mine gently, hesitantly, like he was afraid I'd pull away. But I didn't.
I pressed in.
And the kiss deepened.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself to him. The world around us fell away — no rooftop, no past, no pain. Just his mouth moving against mine, warm and tender and full of all the things we'd left unsaid.
He kissed me like I was the air he hadn't breathed in years.
Like he was afraid this might be the last time.
But it wasn't.
This kiss wasn't an ending.
It was a beginning.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless.
His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet space between us.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured.
"Me too," I whispered, voice shaking slightly. "I just… didn't know if we were ready."
He smiled gently. "Maybe we're not. But I'm willing to take every step slow. As long as it's with you."
I nodded, heart full. "Then let's start again."
"Hi," he said softly, lips brushing mine in the faintest ghost of another kiss. "I'm Damon. I'm in love with you."
A tear slipped down my cheek — not from sadness, but from the overwhelming tenderness of this man who had once been my greatest heartbreak… now slowly becoming my greatest healing.
"Hi," I whispered back, smiling through my tears. "I'm Arya. And I think I'm starting to fall in love with you again."