My heels were off before the door shut behind me.
I tossed them aside and leaned against the cool surface , shutting my eyes and exhaling slowly_ as if that could undo the knot twisting in my chest since I left the ballroom.
Damian Hart.
Even thinking his name makes my throat tighten. After all these years,I thought I'd be prepared_poised, untouchable. But he looked at at me like no time had passed, like he still knew where to press to make me unravel. And I hated how easily I let him.
I padded into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine with hands that weren't as steady as I'd have liked. The crystal rim trembled slightly against my lip.
"You're being dramatic," I muttered to myself, trying to inject some humor into the heavy silence of my apartment . But it didn't work. I still saw his eyes _ Stormy, accusing,guarded.
I should've walked away the moment I saw him across the ballroom floor.
Instead, I stood there, paralyzed by memories and the weight of things left unsaid. And then came the words_ his sharp, carefully crafted barbs. He was always good at that. And me? I fired back like a woman with nothing to lose.
But I did. I still do
I sank into the couch, curling my legs beneath me. My phone lit up with a message, some meaningless invitation to brunch tomorrow_ and I ignored it. What I needed wasn't mimosas and polite conversation. I needed clarity. Peace. A reset.
But how do you reset when the past just walked back into the room, tailored suit and all?
He didn't ask why I left. He didn't even mention that night. And maybe that's what cut the deepest_ that he acted like I'd never mattered at all.
Still, I couldn't stop the flicker of curiosity. What was he doing back. Why now?
I signed and pressed the wine glass to my forehead.
I was too tired for this.
And yet, I had a sinking feeling that this was just the beginning.
I should've known peace was just temporary. Especially now.
The soft hum of city filtered through the window,_horns, sirens, distant laughter_ but inside, it was too quiet. Too easy to think.
I stood and wandered towards my bedroom, fingers trailing along the hallway wall like I needed something to hold on. The dim light in here was warm, golden, almost forgiving. I should've felt safe.
Instead, I felt seen.
I open my closet slowly, eyes scanning the row of perfectly arranged dresses. The one I wore hung limply now, a wrinkle of silk and regret. I ran a hand down the fabric, remembering the way Damian's eye flicked over me_sharp, unreadable.
Like he hadn't once traced my skin with those same hands that now rested coldly at his sides.
I changed into a t-shirt and shorts,then crawled under the covers, not because I was too tired_ but because I didn't want to be awake in a world where he was back.
My phone buzzed again, I grabbed it this time.
MOM: How was the event? Any interesting people?
I stared at the message for a while before typing back:
ME: It was ... surprising.
I hit the send before I could change my mind. I didn't need the questions that would follow. Didn't need her voice, all soft and hopeful, trying to read between the lines.
I tossed the phone aside and turned on my side, burying my face in the pillow.
A part of me wanted to believe it didn't matter anymore.
The rest of me? It was terrified that it still did.