Damian's Pov
Some nights, the city feels too loud.
Even when it's quiet.
The kind of quiet that hums beneath your skin, reminding you of everything you've tried to forget.
Tonight is one of those nights.
The clock reads 1:17 a.m., and I'm still awake. My apartment is spotless, sterile, almost. I've gone through two cups of coffee, reread the same email five times, and still… I can't stop thinking about her.
Emma.
The name alone is a wound that never learned how to scar.
I thought I'd buried her somewhere safe, far beneath deadlines and corporate deals and the kind of noise that drowns out feeling. But grief is cunning, it waits and tonight, it's everywhere.
In the music playing low in the background.
In the scent of rain clinging to the window.
On the empty side of my bed.
I run a hand through my hair and lean back, staring at the ceiling. My chest feels too tight, my thoughts too loud.
It's been years, and still she lingers.
