Mag-log inEmily woke slowly, as though the morning had found her gently instead of pulling her from sleep. For a moment, she didn’t move. She only lay there, aware of warmth - real, steady warmth beneath her cheek—and the quiet rhythm of a heartbeat under her ear.Then she opened her eyes.Damien was already awake.He was looking at her—not in the guarded way she had grown used to, not with calculation or distance, but with something softer, something open that he did not try to hide. There was no tension in his expression this time, no shadow of worry, only a quiet steadiness that made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t fully understand.“Hi…” she said softly, her voice still thick with sleep.A small smile touched his lips.“Hi,” he replied.She held his gaze for a moment longer, then something flickered through her expression—something uncertain, something that made her shift slightly as though she was about to speak.“I… I don’t know what came over me last night…”She didn’t finish.Dami
Emily didn’t pull away.She couldn’t.Because whatever this was, it held her there—not forcefully, not urgently, but with a quiet certainty that made letting go feel like losing something she had only just begun to understand. Her fingers remained curled into him, her body still close to his, as though some part of her had already chosen this before her mind could catch up.And Damien felt it.Not as confusion.But as something deeper—something that settled into him with a clarity he didn’t question.For a brief moment, he didn’t move, his breath uneven as he searched her face, as if giving her one last chance to step back, to return to the distance they had kept for so long.She didn’t.And in that silence, something shifted.His hand lifted slowly, brushing along her arm before settling at her waist, drawing her closer with a steadiness that was no longer restrained. The space between them disappeared completely, and when he kissed her again, it was no longer cautious.It was certai
Damien had not left Emily’s side. Through the quiet stretch of the night, he remained where he was, seated beside her bed, watching in a silence that did not allow rest. He did not trust himself to sleep—not when something still felt unsettled, not when she lay there so still, as though any moment might shift again into something he could not control. So he stayed, his gaze returning to her again and again, measuring each breath, each small movement, until time itself seemed to blur. It was only when he noticed the tears—slow, quiet trails slipping down her cheeks—that something in him tightened, and he leaned forward, his hand lifting gently to her shoulder as he woke her.“You’re crying,” he said quietly.Emily blinked, her lashes heavy, her mind still caught between two worlds.Her cheeks were wet.She hadn’t even noticed.“I…” she started, but the words didn’t come.Because she didn’t know how to explain something she didn’t understand herself.Damien leaned forward slightly, hi
Damien had never been comfortable with answers that came too easily.Even as he stood in the hospital corridor, speaking with the officers and his own security team, there was something in him that refused to settle. His voice remained controlled as he gave his statement, recounting every detail as precisely as he could—the moment Emily collapsed, the arrival of the ambulance, the way the medics had handled her, and how they had insisted on taking her in before anyone else could intervene.“I went with them,” he said, his tone steady but firm. “I didn’t let them take her alone. They brought her here, into this hospital, into that room. After that… things stopped making sense.”One of the officers nodded, jotting down notes, while another exchanged a brief glance with one of
Emily felt his presence before she opened her eyes.It was not something she could explain—not sound, not movement, not even touch at first—but a quiet awareness that settled over her, steady and unrelenting. When her lashes finally lifted, the first thing she saw was Damien, seated beside her bed, his body leaning slightly forward as if he had been watching her for a long time and did not trust himself to look away.Relief crossed his face the moment he realized she was awake, but it did not come alone. It came tangled with tension, with questions, with something unsettled that had not left him even now.“Emily,” he said, his voice low but immediate, as if he had been holding it back. “How are you feeling?”She blinked slowly, allowin
Damien had never struggled with uncertainty the way he did now.It wasn’t the waiting alone that unsettled him—it was the silence that came with it. The kind of silence that left too much room for questions, for possibilities that didn’t make sense, for instincts that refused to quiet no matter how hard he tried to stay rational. He sat outside the examination room where Emily had been taken, his posture composed but tense, his gaze fixed on the closed door as though staring long enough might force it to open.Around him, the hospital moved in its usual rhythm. Nurses passed by with practiced urgency, voices murmured in low tones, machines beeped steadily behind distant walls—but none of it grounded him. None of it answered the one question pressing at the front of his mind.What happened to her?He had asked.More than once.The staff who had been in the office when she collapsed had nothing useful to offer. Their confusion had been genuine, their explanations fragmented and uncertai
Damien stepped out of the bathroom with a fresh shirt on, his movements calm and measured. His hair was still slightly damp at the temples, and he carried himself as if nothing unusual had happened. Emily was standing near the coffee table, the empty cup still in her hand, her face arranged in perf
(The night of the attack.)The bar was warm and crowded, filled with the low hum of conversations and the steady rhythm of background music that made people feel safe. Glasses clinked, chairs scraped softly against the floor, and the scent of alcohol and fried food hung heavy in the air. Damien sat
The penthouse was too quiet.Emily had never noticed how loud silence could be until she was forced to sit inside it.She had tried the television first. The screen glowed, channels flicking past in a blur of news anchors, cooking shows, market reports, but none of it held her attention. She muted i
The smoke came first.It curled through the doorway like a living thing, thick and gray, swallowing the edges of the small cottage. Emily sat on the floor beside the little girl in the flowery dress, watching her play.The girl’s laughter filled the room, bright and careless. Toys were scattered ac







