Chapter 10

They fell into a rhythm. Aria measured ingredients. Damian handled the heavy lifting. Flour dusted the air. Metal bowls clanged. They played around, tossing flour at each other. Their laughs filling the room from time to time. For a while, it felt peaceful. They then settled into a comfortable silence as they worked.

Then she dropped a tray.

The loud crash broke the moment as stainless steel hit the floor and scattered dough everywhere.

“Damn it,” she whispered sharply. She bent to pick it up, shoulders trembling.

She stopped. Pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Sucked in a shaky breath.

Damian crouched beside her but didn’t touch her yet. “Hey. Talk to me.”

She didn’t look at him. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine,” she snapped, but there was no anger in it. Just exhaustion.

She pressed her palms to her eyes and let out a wet laugh. She could feel her eyes start to well up with tears. “God. Why do I keep crying in front of you.”

She let out a bitter laugh. A single tear slipping down her cheek.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “You don't need to hold it in when you're around me.”

She didn’t argue. She looked at the ruined dough on the floor, like it was some metaphor for her life. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

He finally touched her, lightly. His fingers brushed her wrist, surprising her. Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to handle it all alone,” he said.

Her voice was raw. “Yeah? And what happens when people leave? Or change their mind? Or decide it’s too messy to stay?”

“Then you move on,” he said simply. "You can't blame yourself for the choices of others, that's on them."

She lifted her eyes to meet his. Whatever she saw in them made something in her snap.

They stayed like that, close enough to feel each other breathe. The moment stretched, fragile and electric. His thumb brushed her wrist, slow. Her lips parted. Their faces moved...just slightly...toward each other.

Not a kiss.

But dangerously close.

She blinked and looked away before gravity pulled them any closer. She cleared her throat, wiping her cheek roughly.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. Let’s… let’s finish this.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t ask for more. Just nodded and stood, offering her his hand.

She hesitated but took it anyway..

The tension had quickly and they had settled into a comfortable rhythm again. The new batch had turned out perfect and they sat together to enjoy it with a cup of hot chocolate.

Night had come faster than they had anticipated. Damian had insisted he drove her back. Although it was a sincere gesture from him, he also didn't want their time together to end just yet.

Now at the door of her apartment, Aria’s fingers hovered nervously over her keys as she fumbled to unlock it. She hadn’t expected him to stay all day. She hadn’t expected to enjoy it either. And she definitely hadn’t expected… this feeling. This war inside her. The need to push him away and the ache to pull him closer.

She unlocked the door but didn’t open it. Damian stood behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Turning back, she was caught off guard by how close he was standing to her. His body was relaxed, but his eyes...heavens....his eyes were heavy with everything he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks for today,” she said softly, shocking herself with how small her voice sounded.

“For what?” His voice was low, a quiet rumble that sent a small shiver down her arms.

“For… being there, I guess.” She said then cleared her throat. “I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until you mentioned it.”

His gaze softened. “You're welcome .”

The silence between them stretched. Tension so thick you could slice through it with a butter knife.

Damian stepped closer. Not enough to invade her space, but enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. As though asking for permission.

His scent, woodsy, clean, and warm, wrapped around her like a familiar comfort she had no business reaching for.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” he said quietly.

“That’s what scares me,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

His brow pulled together, and she cursed internally. Why did her mouth find it hard to interpret her thoughts correctly sometimes?

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Aria.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of what comes with you. I can’t afford distractions.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“Then what do you want?”

He paused. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then his eyes dropped to her lips, only briefly, before coming back to meet her gaze.

“I want… to be your peace.”

Her pulse sprinted. Heat crawled up her neck. It felt like she was out of breath.

Damian exhaled slowly, like he was trying to control himself. “But I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. Even if it’s just… friendship.” he said the last word like it physically hurt him to say it out loud.

“Do you think we could be just... friends?,” she said before she could stop herself.

He gave a slow, almost dangerous smile. “I'd rather that than not talking at all”

Everything felt too much and too fast and before she could hold it in, she burst into a nervous chuckle.

Leave it to me to laugh in serious situations. Aria thought to herself. She had never handled pressure well. Damian stared at her. Amused.

“Well,” she said, turning the knob, “I should go inside before this gets weird.”

“It’s a little late for that,” he said with a smirk.

She shot him a playful glare and opened the door. “Goodnight, Damian.”

He leaned one hand on the doorframe, tucking some stray hairs behind her ears. His voice dropped down an octave. “Goodnight, Aria.”

Something about the way he said her name made her buttery inside.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Time seemed to have stopped, and neither of them wished for this to end. But all good things come to an end. Damian stepped back, breaking the moment.

Her face felt hot and she was sure her face was as red as a tomato. She nervously giggled, quickly slipping inside and shutting the door.

What was that? She couldn't help but ask herself.

Why did she feel giddy? Why was she acting like some hormonal teenager? She pressed her back against the door, heart pounding. No. This couldn’t happen. Couldn’t. She couldn’t afford to let anyone get close again.

Not after what happened the last time.

She peeped through the curtains and watched him walk to where his car was parked, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted as if deep in thought. Even looking at him now, she still felt giddy.

She couldn't let herself fall in love again.

Nope. Not happening.

She blew out a sharp breath and pushed away from the window. She needed sleep. Long day tomorrow. She still needed to make earnings to pay her debts if she still planed to keep her café. A single day with Damian couldn’t solve that. Her life was still a mess. Ethan was still lurking.

Shower. Pajamas. Bed. Reset.

She made a mental to-do list for the evening. Maybe after a good night rest, she'll be able to think about everything more clearly.

She tied her hair up, showered, and slipped into her favourite night wear... Which was really just a basic moomoo dress. Her mind was still replaying the way Damian had looked at her, like she mattered. No one had looked at her that way in years.

She shook her head and made her way to her bed. She had been through worse, or so she thought. Just as she was about tucking herself in....

CRASH!!!

She screamed as her bedroom window shattered in front of her. The sound exploded through her apartment like a gunshot. Her heart slammed into her ribs.

“What...”

A big part of her bedroom window rained down shards of glass. Something had been thrown through it.

 Was it a bullet? The thought alone caused a shiver to run down her back.

Her breathing hitched.

Something was on the floor, close to the broken window.

A rock.

A piece of paper tied around it.

Her skin went cold.

“Could it be....,” she whispered.

She backed away slowly, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in terrified bursts. Her thoughts flashed immediately to him.

Ethan?

Hands trembling, she forced herself forward step by step, careful not to step on broken glass. Her fingers shook violently as she knelt and untied the note.

Her stomach dropped at the handwriting.

You're mine. Always have, always will. Running away only makes me want to chase. You know I love a good chase.

Her blood turned to ice.

Because written under the note was something worse.

A photo.

Damian was laughing at something she had said earlier today at the café

Someone had been watching them.

Her hands flew to her mouth in horror.

She wasn't safe anymore...

And now, neither was Damian.