Emma's Pov
The gala was brighter than I'd expected, the light glittering off chandeliers, laughter spilling like champagne, and a symphony of expensive perfume clinging to the air. I shouldn't have come but when James sent the invitation and said "Come, you need this" I had told myself it was just one night.
I hadn't expected him to be here.
"Emma?"
That voice, the deep, calm and unmistakable and it made my stomach twist before I even turned.
It was Damian.
He stood a few feet away, dressed in a charcoal suit that fit too perfectly to be a coincidence. His hair was shorter, neater, his jaw a little rougher. He looked like time had carved him sharper.
For a second, the room disappeared. It was just me, him, and all the words we never said after what happened to the both of us.
"Damian," I managed, keeping my voice steady.
"I didn't know you'd be here." His eyes flickered with surprise, then something softer.
"James invited me," I said, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd. "He insisted I needed to 'network.'"
He huffed a quiet laugh. "i guess that sounds like him."
Awkward silence settled between us,it was heavy but not suffocating. The orchestra did their thing, people moved past us with fake smiles, and still, neither of us looked away.
"You look… good," he said finally.
"So do you," I replied. "Busy suits you."
He smiled faintly. "It has to. Work's been… work."
I nodded. "Yeah. I heard the company is expanding."
"It is. There would be a new department and Adrian is pushing for it."
"Of course he did." I tried to smile, but my chest ached at the remembrance of everything that happened there.
He noticed, of course he did. "How've you been, Emma?"
The way he said my name, it was gentle, like it still mattered. It made my throat tighten. "Fine," I said after a beat. "Better. Things have… settled."
The tension cracked, just slightly but enough for us to breathe.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked suddenly.
I hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."
We walked to the bar together. People whispered, heads turning subtly. Maybe they recognized him and I together. The scandal was huge. The CEO and his therapist who he was sleeping with. Either way, we didn't care enough to look back.
He handed me a glass of white wine. "Still your favorite?"
I smiled faintly. "Still is, you remember?"
"I remember a lot of things," he said quietly.
My pulse skipped. "Like what?"
"Like how you always said you hated crowded rooms but never left first," he replied. "And how you'd always hold your breath before you made a big decision."
I stared into my glass. "You notice too much."
"I guess I did," he teased.
"Ya, I guess you did"
He met my eyes then he spoke. "yap, that was just me." The air thickened. Every sound around us faded into a hum.
After a long moment, I sighed. "It's strange, seeing you here."
"Strange good or strange bad?"
"Ask me later."
He chuckled softly. "Fair."
We moved toward the balcony, away from the noise. The city lights stretched below, glowing like a map of second chances.
"So," I said, leaning against the railing, "you and Clara are still partners?"
He nodded. "For now. She is good at making people believe in things. I'm just trying to keep up."
"That hasn't changed either," I said. "You always had to be the steady one."
He looked at me, really looked. "And you were the storm."
That made me smile. "Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation," he said. Then, quieter, "But yeah, maybe it is."
We stood there for a while, no words, no need to fill the silence. It was easy in a way I hadn't felt in months.
A pause. Then he said, "I missed this."
I froze. "This?"
"Talking to you," he said simply. "Without the noise, without everything else between us."
My heart tripped. "Damian….."
"I know," he cut in gently. "We're not… whatever we were. I just..." He exhaled. "You mattered. You still do."
The words hit somewhere deep. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. "You can't say things like that," I whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because it sounds like a beginning, and we both know how beginnings end."
He took a step closer, his voice low. "Not all of them."
We were too close then, close enough to remember how it used to feel. The warmth, the gravity, the way he always managed to find me in a room full of strangers.
I stepped back first. "You should go," I said softly.
He nodded slowly, but his eyes didn't leave mine. "You look good, Emma, really."
"So do you," I said, forcing a smile. "Try not to kill any more plants in that mansion of yours."
He laughed under his breath. "I'll try."
When he walked away, I watched him disappear into the crowd. The music swelled again, and I was left with the hum of strings and the taste of unspoken words. For months, I'd told myself I didn't need closure. That silence was safer but standing there, under the city lights, I realized closure didn't always come cleanly.
Sometimes, it looked like a conversation that ended too soon and sometimes, it looked like him walking away, again and me letting him.
I stayed on the balcony long after he was gone, the cool air brushing against my skin, the city pulsing below like a heartbeat I couldn't quite match. The glass in my hand had gone warm, but I didn't care. Somewhere inside that ballroom, Damian was probably laughing, blending back into the world that had once swallowed us whole.
I took one last look at the skyline and smiled faintly. Maybe this was what healing really looked like, it was not grand or final, just quiet acceptance. I turned back toward the light, ready to step inside and finally breathe again.