Damian did not move for a few seconds when Ava turned away.
He stood where he was, at the edge of the garden path, watching her retreat toward the house with measured steps that betrayed nothing of what she was thinking. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted, as though she were holding herself together by sheer will.
He knew that posture.
It was the same one she wore when she was unsettled.
When she was fighting something.
The moment she disappeared in the upstairs hallway, something inside him loosened and unraveled all at once.
His breath left him in a slow, unsteady exhale.
Damian had not felt this way in his entire life...
Not the loss of control, that was familiar enough. He had faced chaos, violence, and impossible decisions without flinching. He had learned early how to compartmentalize, how to lock away anything that might interfere with clarity. That was the way he grew up
This was different, this was not fear.
This was want....
