Chapter 3

Callie

The knock at my door was soft. I’d been pacing back and forth for the last hour, trying to make sense of everything—what Eleanor had said, what Damien hadn’t said. The truth was gnawing at me, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

I went to the door, my hand shaking slightly as I reached for the handle. I stood there half expecting to see Eleanor's smug face, but when I opened it, I saw him standing there. Damien.

His dark hoodie and jeans looked out of place against the neat, warm colours of my apartment, but his eyes… His eyes were the same. Soft, worried, uncertain.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and hesitant. “Can we talk?”

My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to feel. He looked like he belonged here, like he had every right to stand in front of me like this. But I knew he didn’t. Not anymore.

I didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stood there, staring at him as my mind raced. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to tell him how hurt I was. But I didn’t.

“Callie?” His voice broke through my thoughts, laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus on him. He was worried, genuinely worried. It made the pit in my stomach feel even deeper.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Just… busy. A lot on my mind.”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced down. “I’ve been trying to reach you. You didn’t answer any of my texts. Or my calls.”

I swallowed, stepping aside to let him in, though every part of me was screaming not to.

“I just… needed some space,” I said, my voice sounding hollow. “Dad’s health is… It’s been hard. I’ve been focused on him. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was ignoring you.”

He nodded, the concern in his eyes not leaving. “I get it. I’m sorry if I pushed you. I was just worried.”

“Don’t apologise,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

He looked around the room, a subtle tension in his posture. The silence stretched between us. I wanted to say something, but the words felt like they were stuck in my throat.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his gaze meeting mine again. “You look… exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated the word like a mantra, even though it felt like I was lying to both of us.

He stepped further inside, eyes flicking to the worn couch and the dishes stacked in the sink. The remnants of my chaos were on full display—nothing hidden, nothing polished.

“I just… I’ve been really stressed, you know?” I said, trying to keep my voice light, trying to ignore the way his presence felt like both a balm and a burden. “Dad’s at the nursing home now. It’s a lot to handle alone.”

“I get that,” he said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He moved closer, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. He didn’t ask if I wanted to sit with him, but I did anyway. “I just want to make sure you know that you don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

I nodded, though I couldn’t find the words to respond. He was kind, patient, and understanding. That was the part of him I’d fallen for, the part of him that made the lies seem less important, less real.

But now, with everything that had happened, those lies were impossible to ignore. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been tricked. That I was just another phase in his life, something to pass the time before he moved on to something or someone better.

He reached over, brushing a lock of hair away from my face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid that if he touched me too hard, I’d shatter.

“I know it’s been tough,” he said. “I’m here, Callie. For whatever you need. I don’t expect anything from you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

But I had to know. I couldn’t let it go.

I shifted on the couch, trying to keep my tone casual, even though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Damien, I… I’ve been thinking about some things. About you.”

His gaze flickered with hesitation, like he knew what was coming next. “What kind of things?”

I searched his face for any sign that he might crack, that he might admit what he was hiding. But his eyes were unreadable, and that damn smile was still there, as if everything was fine.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. “I just… You don’t talk about your family much. You’ve never really mentioned anything. You're always here for me, you know, and I feel like I can't do the same for you, like I don't really know you."

He froze for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably. “You know me, Callie.”

“Yeah, but…” I hesitated, trying to navigate the conversation carefully. “I don’t know anything about your past. You don’t talk about where you’re from, what you do. And I’m not trying to push you, but—”

“You’ve been through a lot,” he cut me off, his tone suddenly unreadable, his hand brushing through his hair. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you, Callie. I just don’t—” He sighed, clearly struggling for the right words. “I don’t talk about it because it’s not that important.”

I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to keep calm. It’s not that important?

Was that really his excuse? Or was there more he wasn’t telling me? Had I really been this oblivious not to notice this?

I wanted to keep pushing, to force him to tell me the truth. But something inside me hesitated.

“Okay,” I said, pretending to accept his answer. “I get it. I just... I don’t want to feel like I’m being shut out. You know?”

“I’m not trying to shut you out.” He took my hand, his fingers warm against mine. “I care about you, Callie. You mean a lot to me.” I could feel my insides melt to mush.

I nodded, but inside, my heart was heavy.

I wasn’t so sure anymore.

But before I could ask anything else, my phone rang. The sudden sound made both of us jump.

It was the nursing home.

I stared at the screen for a moment, my stomach sinking.

“I… I have to take this,” I said, my voice faltering. “It’s my dad.”

Damien didn’t let go of my hand, his gaze softening with understanding. “I’ll be here,” he said quietly.

I quickly answered the call, walking into the kitchen to get some distance. “Hello?”

“Ms. Evans?” The nurse’s voice was sombre. “It’s your father. We need you to come right away.”

My breath hitched in my chest. “What happened? Is he…?”

“I’m afraid he’s taken a turn for the worse. He’s asking for you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I ended the call, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt numb, disconnected from everything.

I turned back to Damien, my mind a whirlwind of confusion, hurt, and fear. He was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t know what to say.

“I have to go,” I said, voice breaking.

"Let me come with you."

"No, Damien. Let me handle this on my own. I’ll call you later, okay?” I couldn't promise myself that I wouldn't lash out at him if he were there.

He didn’t argue. He just nodded and squeezed my hand. “Take care of yourself. And your dad. I'll let myself out.”

I left without another word, stepping into the cold night air, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I wasn’t sure if I was running toward my father or away from the truth.