Like a real couple or?

ARABELLA

Two weeks passed since my kidnapping.

And we're in Switzerland now after his surgery.

I don't know what made him change his mind.

The way his eyes lit up when he saw me after he woke up.

Different emotions crossed his face.

Relief. And something I couldn't quite describe.

I wish I could just ease his pain.

I want to know what weighs on his mind.

I wish I could fight his demon together with him, but he's not ready.

I can't tell him about my feelings.

Not like that.

Not yet.

The only important thing now is his surgery, so he can be on his own when I'm not there.

Be reasonable Arabella, you're not the real wife, you'll just be there for one year only and then you'll disappear.

We're not from the same world and Damian Harrison is out of my league.

Then he pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Arabella... Can you please help me take my shirt off?"

I almost choke.

He's sitting on the edge of the hotel bed in Zurich. Two days after surgery.

His white dress shirt is stuck to his back with sweat. His arms are shaking.

"Of course," I whisper. My voice sounds nothing like mine.

I step closer. My hands are trembling.

The doctor said that the surgery was a success.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, fingers at the first button.

"Everything hurts," he says honestly. No arrogance. No CEO mask. Just Damian.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Button by button.

My knuckles brush his chest accidentally. He flinches.

"Sorry," I say again.

"It's fine."

The shirt comes off.

And I see it. The scars. The muscle. The way his shoulders slump like he's carrying the world.

And the bandage around his lower back from the surgery.

He's still beautiful. Broken. And mine for one year only.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For coming with me."

"You would've done the same."

"No." He looks at me. Gray eyes dark with something I can't name. "I wouldn't have. Not three weeks ago."

My chest tightens. "What changed?"

"You did."

The air goes still.

"When Rachel sent me a video of you in that basement..." he continues. His voice cracking. "And I couldn't stand. Couldn't help you. I just sent my men to rescue you. I couldn't even carry you to the hospital...I promised you that I will protect you but I failed"

His jaw clenches. "I swore I would never be that useless again."

"Damian..."

"So I said yes. To Switzerland. To the pain. To all of it." He leans forward in his arms. "Because the next time you need me, Arabella, I want to be able to stand up."

Oh.

Oh God.

My heart is pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it.

"That's... that's stupid," I managed. "You should do it for yourself."

"I am." He smirks, but it's sad. "By doing it for you."

He shifts, trying to reach for a T-shirt on the nightstand. Wobbles.

Instinctively, my hands go to his shoulders to steady him.

We freeze.

His skin is hot under my palms. Mine are probably ice-cold.

For a second, neither of us moves.

His eyes drop to my lips. Mine dropped into his mouth.

And suddenly my mouth goes dry.

Is this what it feels like? To be almost something?

"Arabella," he says to my name like a warning. Like a prayer.

My name rolled off his tongue so perfectly, like it had always belonged there—like it was meant to be spoken by him.

"Yeah?"

"Let go."

"I—"

I dropped my hands immediately. Step back.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay." He grabs the shirt himself. Struggles. "I just... I need to do this myself."

Right. He wants to be independent.

That's the whole point of the surgery.

I turned away so he could get dressed. My face is burning.

Be reasonable Arabella. One year. Then you disappear.

"Done," he says behind me.

I turn around. He's in a plain black T-shirt. Still pale. Still in pain. But sitting straighter.

He pats the space next to him on the bed.

"Sit."

I hesitate. "Damian, I don't think—"

"Sit. Please."

Please.

He never says please.

I sit. Careful. Leaving a foot of space between us.

We stare at the wall. In silence. But it's not awkward. It's... heavy.

Like something is sitting between us that neither of us wants to name.

"Are you scared?" I ask finally.

"Of the rehab? Yes."

"Of anything else?"

He doesn't answer for a long time.

And when he wanted to tell something... He just closed his mouth.

Then he stared ahead, lost in thoughts.

I heard him mumbling something but I didn't hear.

I catch something like "don't," then some rubbish words "lose you."

My heart stops. Is this what I think it is?

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." He runs a hand through his hair. Frustrated. "Forget it. I'm on pain meds. I'm saying stupid things."

But his eyes don't look stupid. They look like he's in pain.

"Damian—"

"Don't." He cuts me off. "Let's just watch TV or something. Pretend we're normal. Like a real couple."

Like a real couple.

The words hit me like a punch.

Because for one second, sitting here in a Zurich hotel room, with snow outside and him in pain next to me...

It did feel real.

"Okay," I whisper. "Like a real couple."

He grabs the remote. Puts on some stupid action movie.

But neither of us watches it.

I'm focusing on our touches.

My skin is burning by his touch.

Ten minutes later, his head drops to my shoulder.

He's asleep.

I know the meds take effects.

So sit still and just enjoy this moment 'cause I know this wasn't going to last.

I don't move.

Because, for the first time since I signed that contract, I don't want this year to end.

And that is the most dangerous thing of all.