What She Saw

The elevator doors opened with a dull chime, and Naomi stepped out into the dim corridor of Soonie’s apartment building.

It's been one hell of a day and all she wanted was to go straight to bed after having one of those delicious soups that Soonie often makes. It's so funny how quickly she falls asleep right after. Whatever it is, she needed it.

The rain had followed her from the office, slicking her hair against her face and soaking through her clothes despite the umbrella she’d half-heartedly carried.

Just great. If only her day couldn't get anymore! It was late, almost 9 p.m. and all she wanted was a shower, a change of clothes, and sleep.

Her mind drifted off yo Amanda for a second amd she shook her head as though trying to waves put the information sje had just learnt from her head.

Even though she didn't want to admit it, she knew Amanda was onto something. The revelation about Jack and Clara had lodged itself deep in her chest. She had always known Clara hated her but Jack? She was yet to believe it. Hell, she still couldn't believe he tried to get her killed with that damned USB.

Naomi pulled a stop by Soonie’s apartment door, ready to step inside and froze.

“Yes…” Soonie gasped breathlessly

That wasn't music, not television. Just soft, uneven noises from within, a gentle vibration that seemed to envelope the room.

Her hand tightened around the doorknob. The lights inside were dim, but the door was ajar, slightly.

What was that? She wondered. Something inside her told her to leave it alone, but another part, a worried part, concerned that Soonie might be hurt and just whimpering in pain, pushed the door open a little wider.

The gap widened, just enough for her to see through. Her blood turned cold.

Soonie was laying on the couch, legs wide apart and a vibrator moving over her clit.

Naomi turned her gaze away from the room. This was Soonie’s private moment, she shouldn't interfere…but then, she caught sight of a familiar picture.

Naomi returned her gaze to the room, brows furrowed in disbelief. Soonie had her eyes on a picture on the wall…

A picture Naomi recognised almost immediately.

Her and Damon.

It wasn’t even framed properly, just tacked up roughly, edges curling. But the image was unmistakable; Damon’s hand on Naomi’s waist, the two of them in his office. That picture was taken without her consent! It wasn't a public picture you could get your hands on with a quick G****e search.

Naomi’s heart lurched violently. The world around her blurred, the room spinning as if the air itself had turned poisonous.

Soonie was moaning shamelessly to this picture, her eyes fixed on the picture. She was….touching herself to a picture of her and Damon?

Her back hit the doorframe, making a soft thud.

Soonie’s head snapped toward the entrance. Her expression changed in an instant, confusion first, then alarm.

Naomi panicked.

Before Soonie could see her, she turned and bolted down the hall.

Her steps echoed, uneven and wild, as she fled through the stairwell and out into the rain again.

She gambled over her shoulder every now and then, breathing harsh as she bumped into people, earning irritated groans and annoyance from passersby.

No. She must have seen wrong. There's no fucking way..

She didn’t stop until she reached the main street. Her chest heaved, breath burning in her lungs. The cold rain struck her skin like needles, but she barely felt it.

She couldn’t process what she’d seen, didn’t want to.

Soonie. Her best friend. Her only friend, really. The one person she’d trusted enough to stay with.

Why?

Why would she…

No, there had to have been a misunderstanding…but she knew it was true. Was that why Soonie didn't want her getting back with Damon? Because she had a thing for him? Or both of them?

Her head seemed to ache and her throat closed up. Tears burned, but she didn’t let them fall. Not here, not where anyone could see.

She hailed the first cab she saw and muttered one word when the driver asked where to.

“Sinclair Holdings.”

♤

She knew he would be here. She hasn't seen him in the office for a while and she just knew he was avoiding her, just as much as she was avoiding him.

Good.

Or is it?

The building was mostly empty when she arrived. The receptionist seemed to recognize her immediately and handed her a passcard to Damon's floor. She'd been here before…

Back when she wanted to divorce him and get over her crush on her husband. A crush on her husband. Hell, that sounds pathetic!

Thank you.” Naomi muttered as she got the passcard.

The receptionist scans her in silence, a look of concern on her face on seeing how soaked Naomi was. “Would you like me to bring a towel up to Mr Damon's office? And a cup of warm Jasmine tea?”

Naomi stood frozen, she wasn't sure she wanted anything at this point.

“I just want to see him.”

The young lady nodded and Naomi walked away.

The ride to the elevator was brief. Her mind was numb, barely a single coherent thought ran through her head as she walked down the hallway and pushed open his office door.

Damon was still there.

Of course he was. He was in the one place she least wanted to see him, and yet the one place that felt safest.

He was standing near his table, putting on his coat and ready to call it a day when his tired eyes landed on her and his entire body went still.

His eyes brightened immediately, his tensed shoulders seemed to relax under her gaze as his mouth went open to say something before his brows pulled in a frown.

She looked like she’d been dragged through a storm. Drenched hair clinging to her neck, eyes glassy, clothes rumpled and damp.

“Naomi,” he breathed, stepping forward before he could stop himself. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, words trapped somewhere in her throat.

His frown deepened, she was hurt. Maybe not physically but he knew something was off.

“Naomi, talk to me.”

She flinched when he reached for her arm, stepping back as though his touch burned.

“I said I’m fine,” she managed, her voice sharp, though it trembled underneath.

His eyes darkened. “You don’t look fine.”

“I just…” She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. “I need a ride home.”

He hesitated. “To Soonie’s?”

Her chest constricted at the name. “No.”

That one word came out so small that even Damon stopped pressing.

Something definitely happened.

He nodded silently and motioned to Patrick, who was waiting near the hallway. “Cancel my appointments. I’m leaving.”

Patrick gave a slow nod, eyes flicking between the two of them before disappearing down the corridor.

He got closer, took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders to keep her warm.

Satisfied he nodded. “Let’s go.”

♤

The drive was quiet, painfully so.

The car hummed through the slick streets, wipers squeaking against the windshield. The city lights bled into the windows, reflecting faintly on Naomi’s face.

She kept her gaze fixed outside, expression unreadable.

Damon stole glances at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Her hands were clenched on her lap, her shoulders rigid.

Whatever had happened, it wasn’t small. He could feel it in the air, like static before lightning.

And it had everything to do with Soonie for sure. He wanted to ask but he couldn’t. Not when she looked so fragile.

The important thing is that she came to him. They weren't cordial at the moment but when things got bad, she came to him. That's all he wanted.

When they pulled up to the house, their house, Naomi didn’t wait for him to open the door. She got out quickly, clutching her bag like a lifeline.

He followed quietly behind her, unlocking the front door. The house was dark, the faint scent of dust and rain drifting in.

Naomi stepped inside first, hesitating only when she reached the living room.

Despite how confused and hurt she was, she felt at peace here. Maybe more than she had ever felt at Soonie's. Goodness, why is she just realising how weird things were at Soonie’s to begin with?

Naomi took a slow breath, forcing herself to embrace this feeling of being home again.

Damon spoke quietly behind her. “ You can stay in our room…”

“I'll stay in the guestroom.” She cuts in, handing over his coat. Her wet clothes clung to her body, outlining every curve of her but for the first time, all Damom wanted was for her to look at him. To meet his gaze at least, even if it's just once…

She didn't.

He took the jacket. “I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

She nodded wordlessly, heading toward the guest room.

But when she reached the doorway, she turned slightly, her voice low but steady. “I’m not staying because I want to. It’s just until I find somewhere else.”

He stopped. “I know.”

“And don’t mistake this for reconciliation,” she added. “I still want that divorce, Damon.”

The words hit harder than she meant them to. He didn’t reply, not immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. “You’ve made that clear.”

She looked at him then… really looked. The exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the quiet devastation he hid so well.

For a fleeting moment, she almost apologized. Almost.

But she didn’t. She turned away and disappeared into the guest room.

Damon stood there for a long time, the faint sound of rain against the windows filling the silence between them.

Eventually, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, and went to the other end of the hall to get her a change of clothes.

♤

Naomi leaned on the door, her ears listening to Damon's footsteps. She had heard him sigh and then walk away. That should have made her happy, thrilled even but it didn't. It only made her recent discovery feel even worse.

She dropped her arms around her shoulders as she scammed the room. She had never been here and he felt so different from the one she shared with Damon. Of course it did.

She stripped out of her clothes, tossing them in the basin in the bathroom. There was no towel to wrap herself in, nor soap to use to wash up.

The bedroom door swung open, it was Damon. His eyes landed on her , naked, standing in the center of the room with her arms crossed over her chest.

Has there ever been a time she didn't look like an absolute goddess? He swallowed, handing her a change of clothes.

She took it, her cold fingers slightly brushing over his.

“Do you need anything else?” He asked, his voice surprisingly soothing to her ears.

“I'll ask one of the attendants if I do.” She replied.

Damon nodded and shut the door behind him, reading her alone again.

Later that night, when the house had gone still, Naomi sat at the edge of the guest bed, wrapped in one of Damon’s shirts he’d given her earlier. The fabric smelled faintly of cedar and cologne.

He smelt like him and she found herself leaning to the illusion that he was near.

He was intact near, sleeping or trying to sleep in the guest room next to hers. She didn't know that.

Naomi's mind replayed the day in fragments, Amanda’s warning, Soonie’s…secret.

She exhaled, pulling her knees closer to her chest, not sure what was real anymore.

And yet, despite everything, when she closed her eyes, when she felt confused and overwhelmed, it was Damon she saw in her mind.

Standing there in his office, looking at her like she was something he didn’t know how to let go of.

She hated that part of her still ached for that look, craved for it.

She pulled the sheets tighter around her, whispering to no one.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

But the silence that followed gave her no comfort.

Somewhere down the hall, Damon sat awake too, staring at the untouched divorce papers on the bedside desk.

And neither of them slept.