The Truth

She couldn't sleep.

The clock read a little past midnight when Naomi gave up pretending she could sleep. The air in the guest room felt too heavy, pressing against her chest, every breath catching like it didn’t belong to her.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, and for a long while she just stared at the faint line of moonlight spilling across the floor.

It wasn’t the house that felt unfamiliar, it was the silence. Or maybe it's just how messed up her thoughts were.

Her throat ached. She told herself she just needed water, maybe milk. Anything to help her sleep.

She slipped out of the room quietly, wearing the same oversized T-shirt she’d thrown on hours ago, the same one Damon gave her the night before. The hallway light was dim, the only illumination coming from the kitchen and the entire floor was empty. Even the staff called it a day already.

Naomi shut her door with a sigh, good. The last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone. She'd crossed paths with Patrick when she got back home and it was awkward how she had avoided his greetings, pretending not to have heard him.

Naomi exhaled again, she was just being petty now. Patrick did nothing wrong. He was following his boss's instructions, nothing else.

She got closer to the kitchen and stopped when she saw him.

Damon stood by the counter, a glass in his hand, shoulders tense beneath a plain black T-shirt. His back was to her, but even in that stillness, she could feel how tense he was…how…mellow he felt even from a distance.

For a brief second, she thought about turning around, walking back before he noticed. But then he turned, and his eyes found hers.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

Naomi didn’t answer. She crossed the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the rack, and poured herself milk. The silence stretched. Every sound; the clink of glass, the faint hum of the fridge, felt too loud.

She just wanted to get her glass of milk and get out of here and far away from him too.

Damon set his own glass down on the floating island. “Naomi,” he started.

She didn’t look at him. “I just want a glass of milk and that's it.”

She returned the carton to the fridge after pouring herself a glassful and turned to leave.

He exhaled sharply. “You keep running from me every time I try to explain.”

“Because I’m tired, Damon.” She didn’t look at him. “You only want to tell me something when it's convenient for you.”

His jaw flexed. “You think silence was convenient for me?”

“Wasn’t it?” she said bitterly. “You vanished for six years and you never showed up! I had to find you! I had to threaten you!"

“Naomi…”

Her fingers tightened around the glass. “There’s nothing more to talk about. Goodness, you must have had a field day when I forced my way into your life! Some dumb girl you married and had to entertain long enough to ruin her.”

He slammed his glass onto the counter, the sound cracking through the quiet.

“Enough.”

Naomi froze.

He took a step closer, his tone low and clipped. “You’ve had your turn to be angry, Naomi. Now you’re going to listen.”

She stared at him, startled by the coldness in his voice. “You don’t get to order me…”

He moved closer again, cutting off her escape, his body inches from hers. “You're not some dumb girl I had to entertain! You never have, never will be!”

“It's…”

“You’ve been running circles around the truth for weeks,” he said. “You want answers? Then stop pretending you don’t.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She muttered.

She tried to move past him, but he blocked her way. When she tried again, he caught her wrist. Gently, but enough to stop her.

“Let go.”

“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to leave you all those years?”

Her chest tightened. “You did leave.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t by choice.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Of course. There’s always a reason with you, isn’t there?”

He stepped closer, his hand still warm around her wrist. “Your father..”

“Don’t,” she cut in. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”

He swallowed hard. “He’s the reason you’re alive right now.”

That stopped her.

Her eyes flicked to his. “What are you talking about?”

He released her wrist, dragging a hand down his face. “Your father didn't give you the Pearl properties because he knew what kind of people who surrounded you, Naomi. Jack, Clara, Mark, Lucas… all of them. He knew if those assets were in your name, you’d become a target.”

Her stomach dropped, but she forced her voice steady. “So?”

“So,” he said, his tone low and heavy, “He transferred to me instead. Because he trusted me. And he made you marry me so no one can fight the claim in his will.

Her mouth went dry. “That’s insane.”

“He didn’t think so,” Damon said quietly. “He trusted me. He told me if he told you what was going on, you'd be reckless. He was scared for your safety. And he told me…” Damon’s jaw clenched. “...to do whatever it took to protect you . Even if that meant staying away.”

Naomi’s pulse roared in her ears. “That doesn't make any sense. You stayed away from me to protect me? How the hell is that you protecting me?”

Damon exhaled, bowing his head.

“Clara threatened me. With you.” he said finally, the words like stones falling one by one. “If I stayed away from you, she wouldn’t touch you and she could make the most of Aaron's decision. She..she was going to use me…”

“Damon, I..”

“She had power back then. More than you realized. She had eyes everywhere but now, I have everything it takes to protect you. You were eighteen, Naomi. You didn’t see the threats that were circling.”

Her heart twisted painfully. “So you just decided for me?” She spat.

“I was trying to keep you alive!” he snapped.

“By disappearing?” she fired back, her voice breaking. “By letting me think I wasn’t worth staying for? You married me and left me like I didn’t matter.”

His eyes flickered, pain slicing through them. “You mattered more than anyone.”

“Then why wasn’t I enough to fight for?” Her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you show up when I called you that night, Damon? When I was almost….when I was terrified and needed you. I called, and you didn’t answer. I waited for hours.”

He looked like she’d just been trucked “I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t want to know,” she said. Her eyes shimmered, unshed tears catching in the dim light. “You think I cared about the properties? The name? The money? I just wanted my husband. I just wanted you.”

She took a step back, wiping her face. “You think your silence protected me? It broke me.”

Damon moved toward her, desperate now, voice low and shaking. “Naomi…”

“Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand. “Don’t come closer.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said. “I thought keeping you safe was worth everything, even if you hated me for it.”

Her laugh came out hollow. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted.”

The room went silent again. The air between them crackled with something that wasn’t love anymore or maybe it was, but in its most painful form.

Damon’s voice was barely a whisper when he said, “If we get divorced now, it all falls apart. You’ll be exposed again. Jack will come for you.”

She shook her head. “You think I care about that?”

“You should,” he said. “I won’t let him touch you.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “You don’t get to decide what happens to me anymore.”

He stared at her for a long moment. The woman standing in front of him wasn’t the girl he’d married. She was harder now, sharper around the edges, and every bit of that was his doing.

“I never stopped thinking you,” he said softly. “Never. Yes. I was scared. I hated myself for getting married to you back then and I tried to keep my distance too but I can't anymore. I love you, Naomi.”

Naomi’s throat closed up.

“Love?” she whispered. “Don’t use that word with me.”

He took another step toward her, hand reaching out for her.“Naomi, please.”

She moved back until her spine met the wall. The proximity made her pulse race, anger and heartbreak tangled in her chest. “You don’t get to beg for something you buried yourself.”

Damon’s jaw tightened, his eyes clouded with regret. “If I could change anything…”

“You can’t.” Her voice trembled. “You can’t undo years of silence. You can’t bring it back either . You can’t give me back the person I was before you left.”

He said nothing. Just looked at her like he was seeing the ruin of everything he’d once wanted.

Naomi’s gaze softened for half a heartbeat. “You want to keep me safe? Fine. But not like this. Not through control. Not through fear. You think you can protect me by pretending I didn't exist? I’m done being your burden.”

“Naomi..”

She brushed past him, her shoulder grazing his arm. “You’re still an asshole,” she said quietly.

He turned, watching her walk toward the hallway, the hem of her shirt brushing her thighs, bare feet silent on the tile. She didn’t look back.

For a moment, he thought she might stop, that she might turn around, just once. But she didn’t. The sound of her door closing echoed through the house like the end of something he’d never get back.

Damon stood there in the kitchen long after she was gone, staring at the faint milk ring on the counter where her glass had been. The night pressed in around him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t fight the silence.

It was her absence, and it was deafening.