All Chapters of The Stranger My Heart Belonged To: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

DAMON’S POV The car ride with grandpa was quiet, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of my grandfather’s paper bag of cough drops. He popped one in with the kind of smug calm that told me he was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t.He finally broke the silence with a knowing glance. “You look more... content lately.”I kept my eyes on the road ahead, even though I wasn’t the one driving. “That’s just your assumption,” I said flatly.He chuckled, that deep, warm kind of laugh that made people feel safe. It used to make me feel like I didn’t have to explain myself. Now it only cornered me.“I know what I saw,” he said. “Especially the way you reacted whenever Sadie was around that Theo boy. You don’t look like a man who enjoys sharing.”I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. He wasn’t wrong.It didn’t matter if it was Theo or anyone else. I hated when she so much as smiled too long at another man. Especially now—now that she was mine. On paper, at least.I clenched

DAMON’S POVTwo rounds.That’s how long I kept her in bed before I even thought about letting her go. I know—it’s reckless. Not me. I’m not the man who loses track of time over anyone.Except her.Grandpa was waiting downstairs. I knew he wasn’t famous for his patience, but I didn’t care.An hour late? Worth every second.She was still catching her breath when I finally pulled away. I took another shower, fast but necessary, because she had a way of lingering on my skin.We dressed without rushing. I couldn’t. Not when she was still close enough to touch.She walked me to the door where Grandpa was already standing, the kind of man who didn’t need to speak to be heard. I glanced at her one more time before I stepped outside. She gave me that gentle smile—collected, polite, but I could see it. She didn’t want me to go any more than I wanted to leave.In the car, Grandpa didn’t waste time. “Why so long?”I cleared my throat, turned my face toward the window, let the corner of my mouth t

SADIE’S POVI arrived at the hospital the next morning, my heart dragging behind me like it had lost its way. The sterile white corridors smelled of antiseptic and grief.Mathew was already there—he hadn’t left since last night. His face was pale, jaw clenched, shoulders heavy with truths he didn’t know how to deliver.But I knew. The silence said enough.The doctor had told him everything—the bad news about Grandpa, and about Damon.My steps slowed as I neared the intensive care unit. Through the glass, I saw him. Damon. He lay there, still and frighteningly fragile, though Damon had never been fragile a day in his life.His head was wrapped in white bandages, with scrapes marking his face, his hands, and both legs. Machines hummed steadily around him, each sound both a comfort and a torment.The doctor assured us he was stable, but it was still too early to tell what damage had been done. There was a chance his legs might not recover, though it was too soon to confirm.My chest tigh

SADIE’S POVI hadn’t gone back into Damon’s room, even though half the day had slipped past.I told myself he needed space, that pushing too hard would only make him retreat further, but the truth was simpler—I was afraid. Afraid of what he’d see when he looked at me now. Afraid of how easily he could erase me.A few hours ago, the head nurse approached me in the corridor. Her expression was professional, voice low. “Mr. Prince has asked to see his grandfather’s body.”My heart stopped. “Now?”“Yes. The staff are preparing.”I stood frozen as the elevator doors opened. Two hospital attendants wheeled Damon out, his posture rigid, his face carved from ice. His eyes moved over the hallway, and for a fleeting second, they found me.I couldn’t breathe. My lips parted, ready to say his name.But nothing came.Because Damon looked straight through me. Not with confusion, not with hesitation—just… nothing. He had seen me. And he chose to look away.His hands gripped the armrests of the chair

DAMON’S POVThe next morning, I tried calling Bella. She didn’t pick up. I tried again. Nothing. Third time. Still silence.I kept going, as if persistence would force the past to answer me. As if a familiar voice could hand me back the pieces of my own memory. It was a pathetic coping mechanism—scavenging for fragments of control while my legs refused me. Maybe that’s what I was doing—clinging to the ghost of what I used to be, pretending I could still force the world into obedience if I just dialed hard enough.But deep down, I already knew the truth: I was desperate. Maybe permanently paralyzed. Maybe already finished.No one would see that, though. Especially not her. My wife—by contract, by necessity, not by choice. She didn’t get to see me weak. No one did.Sadie lingered outside my room more than she dared to step inside. She never crossed the threshold without permission. Instead, she sent messages through nurses—what food I might want, if I wanted anything at all. I usually r