CHAPTER 6

Amanda's POV

"Vivian, stop!" I screamed, my voice reverberating across the room. I was visibly shaking, unable to think clearly enough to know what to do to stop her. At that moment, shouting was the only thing I could manage.

"You deserve this!" she shouted back, her eyes blazing with fury.

I backed away, my heart pounding violently as Damien tightened his hold on her. He struggled to keep her from breaking free, but Vivian fought against him with surprising strength.

"Put it down!" Damien ordered.

Vivian resisted again, and for a moment, Damien nearly lost his grip. The object shifted suddenly through the air, and I instinctively raised my hand to protect my face. A sharp impact struck the side of my hand.

I cried out.

The object fell from Vivian's grip as Damien finally managed to pull her away. I stared at my hand, stunned by the sudden pain, while Damien looked at me in alarm.

"Amanda!"

His voice was filled with concern as he released Vivian and hurried toward me.

Vivian remained where she stood, breathing heavily. She looked at me, then at my hand, and something changed in her expression. The fury that had consumed her moments earlier seemed to disappear, replaced by guilt and fear.

I slowly lifted my injured hand, examining it as the pain spread through my fingers. Then I looked at Vivian.

For several seconds, none of us spoke. The room seemed to hold its breath.

"I didn't mean to..." Vivian began, but her voice faded.

I stared at her. She looked frightened by what she had done, and for the first time since she entered the house, I saw the consequences of her anger reflected on her face.

Damien came closer and gently reached for my hand. "Let me see it."

I pulled it away instinctively. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine." He ignored my firm insistence.

"It only hurts a little."

"Amanda, please."

There was genuine concern in his voice, and that somehow made everything feel worse. I looked down at my hand again, then toward Vivian, who had moved several steps backward. Her breathing had become uneven.

"I didn't want to hurt you," she whispered. I almost laughed, but there was no humor in me.

"You were about to hit me."

"I was angry."

"You could have killed me."

The words left my mouth quietly, but they seemed to affect her more than my shouting would have. Vivian looked at the object lying on the floor.

"I know."

She bent down slightly as if she wanted to pick it up, but Damien immediately stepped between her and it.

"Don't touch it." She looked at him.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then Vivian shook her head and stepped backward.

"I shouldn't have come here."

"Vivian..." Damien started. But she raised her hand.

"No."

Her voice was different now. The anger was gone, replaced by something closer to fear.

"I don't want to hear anything." She turned toward the door.

"Vivian, wait," I called.

She stopped but did not turn around. I did not know why I had called her. Perhaps I wanted an explanation. Perhaps I wanted her to stay so that I could finally understand everything that had happened between her and Nathaniel. But before I could say anything, she opened the door.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

Then she walked out. I heard the sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

I remained standing there, staring at the empty doorway. Damien moved closer.

"Are you sure you are all right?"

I nodded slowly. "I'm fine."

"You are hurt."

"It isn't serious." I snapped back, I don't want him to continue bothering himself because of me.

He looked at my hand again. "This happened because of me."

I immediately looked at him. "No."

His eyes met mine. "I should never have brought you here."

"Damien, stop."

"I should have taken you straight home."

"You are not the reason this happened." I don't like how he casted the entire blame on himself.

He remained silent. I took a breath and tried to steady myself.

"I caused this."

His expression tightened.

"You were drunk and angry."

"I still made the choice."

"Amanda..."

"I am not blaming you." I looked at him seriously.

"You tried to stop her. If you hadn't held her, things could have been much worse."

Damien lowered his eyes.

"I should have handled everything differently."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But worrying about what you should have done won't change what happened."

He stared at me for several seconds before nodding.

I walked back toward the bed and sat down. The exhaustion suddenly became overwhelming. The alcohol that had once made me feel detached from reality had left me with a heavy, unpleasant haze.

I looked around the room. For the first time since arriving at Damien's house, I realized that I could not stay there. I had already crossed too many lines that night.

"I am leaving."

Damien looked at me. "What?"

"I'm going home."

He immediately shook his head. "It's too late."

"I don't care."

"You have been drinking, and your hand is hurt."

"I said I'm going." I insisted.

"Amanda, wait until morning."

I stood up. "I need to go back to my husband."

The words sounded strange coming from my mouth, considering everything that had happened, but I meant them. Damien watched me silently.

"You don't have to go tonight."

"I do."

"Why?" I asked, though not expecting an answer. "Because this isn't my home."

He took a deep breath.

"You can stay here tonight. Nothing will happen. You can rest, and in the morning I'll take you wherever you want to go."

I shook my head. "I appreciate that, Damien, but I can't stay."

He walked toward me. "You're still not completely sober."

"I know."

"Then let me take you in the morning."

"No." I sounded more rigid. My voice was firmer this time.

"I need to see Nathaniel." Damien's expression changed when I mentioned his name.

"You want to go back to him after everything?" I looked away.

"I don't know what I want anymore."

"Then don't make a decision tonight."

"Maybe I have already made enough decisions tonight that I regret."

He fell silent. I walked toward the small space where my belongings had been placed earlier. My movements were slower than usual, but I forced myself to gather everything. Damien watched me for a while before finally stepping forward.

"Let me help you."

"I can do it."

"I know you can. Let me help anyway."

I did not argue. He picked up my bag and gathered the few things I had brought with me. I checked the room once more to make sure I had not forgotten anything.

When we reached the door, Damien stopped. "Amanda."

I turned around.

"If you change your mind, you can stay." I gave him a tired smile.

"I know."

Outside, the night air felt colder than before. The streets were quieter, with only a few vehicles passing in the distance. Damien carried my belongings toward the gate while I followed behind him, holding my injured hand close to my body.

A taxi eventually slowed near the roadside.

Damien stepped forward and spoke briefly with the driver before opening the back door.

I stood beside the car for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened that night.

The wine I drank. The argument and the attack from Vivian.

My thoughts returned to my husband, and the anger I had been trying to escape came rushing back.

Whatever had happened between Damien and me did not erase the betrayal I felt toward Nathaniel. If anything, it had made the confusion inside me worse.

Damien placed my belongings inside the taxi.

"You should rest when you get home."

I nodded. "I will."

He looked at me for a long moment.

"Amanda, please be careful."

"I will." I replied again.

I entered the taxi and sat by the window.

Damien closed the door gently, but before he stepped away, our eyes met through the glass.

There was regret in his expression, but I could not tell whether he regretted me or simply regretted how the night had unfolded.

The taxi began to move. I looked back at him through the rear window as his figure became smaller in the darkness. Then I turned my face toward the road ahead.

I was not leaving his house with a clear heart. I was not even sure I regretted everything that had happened. What weighed most heavily on me was Nathaniel.

His betrayal, absence the trust he had broken.

I had gone to Damien's house thinking wine could silence the pain, but now, sitting alone in the back of a taxi in the middle of the night, I realized that nothing had erased it.

The pain was still there. And this time, I was going back to the man who had caused it.