I didn't remember starting the engine.
The drive felt like a blur; traffic lights passed, streets blurred, my mind spiraling faster than the tires spinning beneath me.
I gripped my phone with trembling fingers.
The image won't leave my mind.
I needed someone.
Not to explain.
Not to cry.
Just someone there.
I scrolled down, pressed Sharon's name, and held the phone to my ear.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Hey, babe! You okay?"
Her voice was light at first _ then serious the moment I didn't respond right away.
"Sienna?"
I exhaled shakily. "Are you home?"
"Yeah. What's going on?"
"I..." My voice cracked, and I swallowed. "Can I come over?"
There was no hesitation. "Of course. I'll put the kettle on. Or do you want something stronger.
I didn't answer.
I just drove.
By the time I got to Sharon's apartment, she was already at the door, arms folded, eyes narrowed.
She took one look at my face and pulled me into a hug.
"No questions," she whispered. Just get inside.
I let her guide me in like I was made of glass.
She sat me on the couch, handed me a mug of something warm, and sat next to me, not saying a word for a long while.
And somehow, that silence _ her silence_ was the safest place in the world.
I stared at the steam curling from the tea, my voice was barely above a whisper.
"I saw him."
Sharon's body tensed. "Damian?"
I nodded.
"And her. Again".
"I never told anyone," I said, my voice quiet, hands curled around the rim of my coffee mug like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.
Sharon sat across from me on the balcony, arms folded, brows furrowed. She was listening like her life depended on it.
"I went to the hotel that night. He was staying in a suite the board got for him for a few weeks while they transitioned offices. I wanted to surprise him. Celebrate with him."
"Six years ago," Sharon said softly.
I nodded. "Yeah. I took the elevator up, happy, excited _hell, in love. I even remember the champagne in my hand."
I paused, heart squeezing.
"But when I opened the door, I saw her. Sitting on the desk in the room like it was hers. Legs crossed, skirt high. Laughing at something he said. He was standing between her knees, holding her wrist, looking like....." I swallowed. "He was hers."
Sharon didn't speak.
"I didn't wait for an explanation. I didn't call out.
"You left New York that night," She murmured.
"Yeah. I felt like a joke. I didn't want to be the girl who got cheated on by the man she thought loved her."
Sharon's jaw clenched. "And Damian never contacted you?"
I hesitated.
"That's the part that kills me," I said, eyes stinging. "A few weeks ago, I found out something I didn't know.
Sharon leaned in.
"He saw me," I whispered. "That night. He saw me leave the hotel.
Her eyes widened.
"Maybe he thought he'd explain it later. He thought we had time," I said bitterly.
Sharon sat back slowly, absorbing it all.
"So it wasn't just a misunderstanding. It was a disaster you both lived for six years."
I nodded.
"And now you're working with him again."
My voice cracked. "And it hurts. God, it still hurts."
Sharon reached across the table and took my hand.
"Then maybe it's time to stop bleeding silently."
Sharon POV
The moment Sienna stated talking, I knew this wasn't just a story about a broken heart. It was something deeper _ a wound that had festered for six long years.
She sat across from me, hands wrapped tightly around her mug, eyes glossy with unshed tears. I wanted to reach out, to say something, anything that would make the pain easier to bear.
But sometimes words fail.
When she told me about the hotel, about the girl sitting there like she owned the place, about Damian standing between her legs _ my heart clenched. That image burned into my mind like a brand.
And the worst part: he saw her leave. He saw her pain and didn't stop her.
How do you explain that? How do you forgive that?
I could see the fight draining out of sienna's eyes _ the fight to believe in him, to believe in us.
She wasn't just broken. She was shattered.
But she was still there.
Still fighting.
And I was going to be there with her, every step of the way.
"Maybe it's time," I said softly, " to stop bleeding silently."
Her hand tightened around me. "Yeah," she whispered. "Maybe it is."
We didn't talk much after that. Not because there were nothing left to say, but because some silence felt sacred _ like a wound finally allowed to breath.
Sienna sat still for a long time, sipping her tea, eyes focused somewhere far beyond my apartment walls. Her posture was composed, calm....but I knew her too well. That stillness was her armour, and it only ever came out when the world felt like it was slipping through the fingers.
Eventually, she stood.
"I should go," she said softly, placing the empty mug down on the coffee table. Her voice was steadier than I excepted, but her eyes told a different story _ one of exhaustion and disappointed that ran deeper than even she probably understood.
I followed her to the door. "You sure you're okay to drive."
She gave me a faint smile. "Yeah, I need some time to think. Alone."
I nodded. I understood.
Still, I hated watching her walk away with all the weight on her shoulders. The past, the confusion, the ache that came with seeing him again.
Before she reached the door, I stopped her with a gentle hand on her arms. She looked back at me, brows slightly raised.
"You're stronger than you think," I said quietly.
We hugged again_ tighter this time. I didn't want to let go. Not because I thought she'd fall apart the moment I did, but because I knew the strength to face everything she was walking back into.
"Text me when you get home, okay?" I murmured into her hair.
She nodded against my shoulder. "I will."
And then she was gone.
But if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was this _ whatever had happened between Sienna and Damian, whatever still hurt_ it wasn't over.
Not yet.
Not with the way she still looked when she said his name.
And definitely not with the way her heart still beat for him _ no matter how much she tried to hide it.