CHAPTER THREE

BEVERLY

I woke up entangled in my duvet with no idea about how and when I actually fell asleep. There is no need for me to actually hide out in my room. He must have definitely disappeared again ,just as usual.

Getting off my warm and extremely comfortable bed,I went into the bathroom to shower, turning on my Bluetooth speaker and cranking up the volume to the highest level, a daily ritual.

My taste in music had always been chaotic. Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, French, English—it didn’t matter where it came from, as long as it made me feel something. My playlist was a mess of languages and moods, songs that had no business existing together but somehow did. Soft ballads sat next to loud rap. Love songs sat next to heartbreak anthems. Nothing matched, but everything fit.

The newest BTS playlist started my morning, and I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water hit my skin and slowly pull me back into myself. The tension from last night still lingered somewhere in my body, subtle but present, like my thoughts hadn’t fully caught up to reality yet.

Damian.

Just thinking his name made something shift low in my stomach again, and I frowned slightly as I tilted my head back under the water.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this so early in the morning.

But it was hard not to.

Because last night wasn’t something you just forgot.

The kiss. The hallway. The way he looked at me like he already knew too much. The way I followed him without questioning my own sanity.

I turned off the shower and stepped out of the bathroom to my closet. I had nowhere to be, so I took out a jumper and crop top to wear. I cleaned up, applied my lotion, and got dressed before packing my long hair up into a ponytail. I'm definitely not in the mood to have it in my face today. It was so long ,but I love it too much to cut it even though it annoys me sometimes.

I stepped out of my room, ready for breakfast.The hallway outside was exactly the same as usual—too wide, too quiet, too polished. The kind of silence that made footsteps sound louder than they should. Expensive paintings lined the walls, all abstract and cold, like even the art in this house refused to say too much. But the person walking through them right now was a little bit different.

I took the stairs down and walked into the dining area, expecting to see an empty table like usual filled with my breakfast.

Instead, I saw him, Damien. He was wearing a cream polo shirt and jeans. He sat at the head of the table, looking so out of place. I mean, this is the first time I've seen him like this.

"Good morning." I said, walking to my seat. He nodded at me, paying attention to the iPad in his hand. I noticed how he held the moderately large iPad in one hand comfortably, I wonder how they would look on me, his hand.

Shaking my head, I took my seat and self-served myself, taking a bit of everything laid out on the table.

"What made you decide to stop being batman?" I asked, taking a bite of pancakes.

He looked at me. Not a single expression on his face. He didn't even say a word. So I elaborated.

"You know, being in the shadows all the time,I hardly see you. Having breakfast together is kind of weird, just so you know." I said.

Damien didn't say a word. He just dropped his iPad and began to eat. We ate in silent for a while but I couldn't keep it up for that long.

"So ,what's up?" I asked.

"Why were you back early yesterday?" he asked, dropping his cutlery back on his plate. I looked at him questioningly.

"You were meant to be with your boyfriend last night." he simply said.

"Oh ,wow. You really keep track of my activities." I smiled. "Anyways,I found out that he was cheating on me. So I ended it and came back."

For a moment, Damian didn't react.

No surprise.

No sympathy.

Nothing.

He simply watched me from across the table, his dark eyes steady and unreadable.

I stabbed another piece of pancake with my fork.

"That look is very comforting, by the way."

His eyebrow lifted slightly.

"What look?"

"The one where you look like you're deciding whether to fire someone."

"I don't have that look."

"You absolutely have that look."

A faint sigh escaped him.

It was such a small thing, but it made me weirdly triumphant.

For years, Damian had been nothing more than a voice. Now I was discovering that annoying him in person was surprisingly easy.

And entertaining.

"He admitted it?" he asked eventually.

The amusement faded from my face.

I shrugged.

"Not exactly. I walked in on him."

The grip on his coffee cup tightened slightly.

Most people probably wouldn't have noticed.

I did.

"He wasn't even sorry," I continued. "Actually, that's not true. He was sorry he got caught."

Damian remained silent.

I picked at my breakfast.

"He somehow managed to turn the whole thing around and make it my fault."

His expression darkened slightly.

"How?"

I laughed.

A short, disbelieving sound.

"He said I wasn't affectionate enough."

The room went quiet.

I wasn't sure why I was telling Damian this.

Maybe because he'd already heard me cry over worse things.

Maybe because he'd been part of my life for so long that talking to him felt natural.

"He said I never really wanted him."

I expected Damian to say something reassuring.

Instead, he asked quietly,

"Did you?"

The question caught me off guard.

I looked up.

"What?"

"Did you want him?"

My mouth opened.

Then closed.

Because the answer was embarrassingly complicated.

I had liked Dylan.

Maybe.

At least I thought I did.

But every date, every conversation, every attempt at building something serious had always felt... incomplete somehow.

Like I was comparing him to something he couldn't compete with.

Or someone.

Damian's gaze never left mine.

And suddenly answering felt dangerous.

So I looked down at my plate instead.

"Not enough, apparently."

Silence settled between us.

Not awkward.

Just thoughtful.

When I finally glanced up again, Damian was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

Something almost regretful flickered there before disappearing.

Then he leaned back in his chair.

"Good."

I blinked.

"Good?"

"If you didn't care about him, ending it was easier."

That wasn't what I expected him to say.

I stared at him.

"You know, most people would start with 'I'm sorry that happened.'"

"You don't need sympathy."

"No?"

"You need honesty."

I narrowed my eyes.

"That sounds suspiciously like something Batman would say."

A corner of his mouth twitched.

Again.

And there it was.

That tiny almost-smile.

I pointed at him immediately.

"See? You do have emotions."

His expression flattened at once.

"Finish your breakfast."

"There he is."

The almost-smile vanished completely.

I grinned into my orange juice.

Progress.

Tiny progress.

But progress.