The ride back to the house was wrapped in silence. Damian didn't say a single word, his sharp features set in stone as his gaze stayed locked on the road ahead. When the car finally pulled into the driveway, he pushed the door open and stepped out without looking back.
I stayed seated for a moment, my heart heavy, the silence pressing down on me. Slowly, I climbed out and followed him inside. He was already heading up the stairs when I called out softly, "Damian... can we talk?"
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"Please," I added, my voice breaking.
At last, he turned his head just enough for our eyes to meet. His expression was cold, his words colder. "What is there to talk about?"
My chest tightened. "Why did you say that earlier? I need to know-"
"I don't want to talk," he cut me off. "I just want to be alone."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, crushed by the finality in his voice. My throat burned, my chest ached, and every step I took up to my room felt heavier than the last.
The moment I shut the door behind me, I collapsed onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as tears blurred my vision. His words echoed inside me like a cruel replay. I hugged myself tightly, willing the pain to stop, but it only grew sharper. Eventually, exhaustion dragged me into a restless sleep.
Meanwhile, in his own room, Damian paced back and forth, unable to shake the image of my wounded eyes.
I shouldn't have spoken to her like that, he thought bitterly. Why does she make me feel this way? Why do I push her away when all I want is to keep her close?
Frustration knotted in his chest until he couldn't take it anymore. Changing into something more comfortable, he left his room and walked down the quiet hallway to her room.
He pushed the door open slowly and froze at the sight before him. She was fast asleep, still dressed, her makeup faintly smudged, her heels carelessly tossed aside. Even in sleep, she looked fragile, as if the weight of the world pressed down on her.
Damian's expression softened. He walked quietly to her side, kneeling beside the bed. With careful hands, he slipped off her heels and set them neatly by the nightstand. He pulled a fresh set of clothes from her closet and gently changed her, his movements tender, deliberate, almost reverent.
When she was more comfortable, he drew the blanket over her and stood there for a long moment, just watching her sleep. The anger that had burned inside him earlier had completely faded, replaced by something deeper, something he couldn't fight even if he tried.
Finally, he climbed into the bed beside her. Pulling her into his arms, he whispered against her hair, "What matters most is that I love you. I can't stay mad at you for long."
He kissed her forehead, tightened his hold, and with her steady breathing lulling him, Damian finally drifted into sleep-his heart at peace only because she was in his arms.
The soft glow of morning seeped through the curtains, spilling golden light across the room. I stirred faintly, my lashes fluttering open, only to realize that I wasn't alone.
A strong arm was draped around my waist, holding me close. My head rested against a firm chest, rising and falling steadily with each breath. For a moment, I froze, my heart racing as the memory of last night rushed back-the coldness in his eyes, the sharpness of his words, the way I'd cried myself to sleep.
Yet here he was, beside me.
I tilted my head slightly, my gaze landing on Damian's face. In sleep, his features weren't hard or distant-they were calm, almost vulnerable. His lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, and his grip on me was protective, as though even in slumber he couldn't let go.
Confusion and warmth battled inside me. I should've been angry, but instead, my chest ached in a different way. Gently, I tried to shift, but his arms only tightened around me.
"You're awake," his deep voice murmured, still husky from sleep. His eyes opened slowly, locking onto mine.
I swallowed, unsure what to say. "Damian... why are you here?"
He studied me in silence for a moment, then brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "Because I couldn't sleep knowing you were hurting." His tone was low, stripped of the harshness from last night. "I was wrong, Amara. I shouldn't have pushed you away."
The sincerity in his voice made my throat tighten. My instinct was to look away, but his hand gently tilted my chin back toward him.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispered.
My heart skipped. Words failed me, but in the quiet of that morning, with sunlight bathing us in warmth, I realized something undeniable-no matter how much he tried to hide behind his walls, his love for me always found its way through.
I sighed softly and rested my head back on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of my hair, pulling me closer as if sealing a silent promise.
For the first time in a long while, the ache in my chest eased, and I allowed myself to breathe.
Gathering courage, she reached for his hand, her voice soft but steady. "Damian... about last night at the party."
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her gaze lowering. "I shouldn't have spoken that way. I should have let you handle it. I only-" her voice broke, and she exhaled shakily, "-I only didn't want you to lose the contract because of me."
Damian's jaw tightened, and for a moment he looked away, as if struggling with something inside. Then he turned back to her, his hand lifting to cup her cheek with surprising tenderness.
"Amara," he murmured, his voice low, almost pained. "Do you really think I would ever choose a contract over you?"
Her throat tightened. "I just didn't want to be the reason you lost something so important. You've worked so hard-"
He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his tone fierce but intimate. "What matters most to me is you. Not Clara, not anyone's expectations, not even the damn contract. You. Don't ever think you're less than that in my life."
Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she whispered, "I love you, Damian."
His expression softened, the ice in his eyes melting away. He brushed his thumb across her lips, then leaned down to capture them in a tender kiss, slow and lingering. When he pulled back, his hand remained against her face, anchoring her to him.
"No more apologies," he said quietly. "What I need from you is to stay by my side. That's all I'll ever ask."
Amara nodded, her chest swelling with both guilt and relief. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. For the first time since the party, the ache in her chest began to ease.