Damien's POV
She told him to meet her in the solarium.
Not with a smile.
Not with warmth.
But with a challenge. A line drawn in silence.
And Damien crossed it.
The carved glass door clicked open. He stepped into a space that felt suspended in time—candlelight flickering across white marble floors, the scent of jasmine drifting from the potted vines clinging to the windows. Moonlight poured in through the glass ceiling, painting everything in silver.
She stood at the far end. Her back to him. Stillness in silk.
He didn't speak.
Couldn't.
For a moment, he just let himself look.
Aria had always been beautiful, but tonight, it wasn't that. It was the way she stood—rigid, braced. As if waiting for a blow. Or a reason to believe it wouldn't come.
"I thought you'd make me wait longer," she said without turning. Her voice was calm, but her edges were sharp.
"I've waited five years," he said. "You've waited long enough."
She turned then.
The ink-blue silk clung to her like moonlight and defiance. Her hair was pinned up, her neck bare. Her eyes locked on his, not softened by memory or longing—but burning.
"You came."
He nodded. "You asked."
A breath. Her arms crossed, slow and deliberate. Armor.
"Why now, Damien?" she asked. "Why not back then? Why not when I begged you to fight for us?"
"I didn't know how to stay away," he said quietly. It wasn't rehearsed. Just the truth.
She let out a short, humorless laugh. "You did a damn good job pretending you did."
He stepped forward, careful, like approaching a wild animal he'd once tamed and then betrayed.
"Do you want the real answer?"
She met his eyes. "I want something real. Anything."
He swallowed. "That night... I thought I was doing the right thing. Letting you go. I thought you'd be safer. Happier."
"Don't dress it up," she said. "That was cowardice. Not love."
He didn't argue. Couldn't.
"You planned your exit before I ever packed a bag, didn't you?"
"No," he said. "But I knew I was dragging you into something ugly. And I couldn't stand the idea of you getting hurt."
Her voice was soft. But the hurt in it hit hard. "You didn't let me walk away, Damien. You stood there and said nothing."
His voice dropped. "Because I was bleeding inside. And I thought it was better to bleed alone than to bleed all over you."
The silence after was thick.
Truth rarely left space for anything else.
He moved to the center of the room, not reaching for her, but closer. "I'm not that man anymore."
"No?" she said. "Then who are you now?"
"Someone who would burn the world down to keep you warm."
Her lips parted. Not a smile. Just surprise.
"Words don't fix this," she said.
"I know. I'm not here to fix it in one night. I'm just... here."
He held out a hand.
No pressure. No demand. Just an invitation.
She looked at it like it might shatter.
But she reached out.
Her hand in his.
Warm. Trembling. Real.
---
Five Years Ago — Rainfall & Red Silk
Damien's Memory
Rain slammed against the streets. A cab idled, headlights cutting through the downpour.
She stood there in a red dress, soaked, eyes wide with something like disbelief.
"Say something," Aria whispered. Her voice cracked. "Anything."
Damien stood in the doorway. Blood on his knuckles. Tie hanging loose. His world unraveling at the seams.
But he said nothing.
And she got into the cab.
The door closed with a finality that would echo in his chest for the next five years.
---
Present — Solarium
Damien's POV
"I'm not asking for trust," he said. "I'm asking for time."
She slipped her hand from his. "You already had your time."
"Maybe," he said, steady. "But I still owe you the truth."
She crossed her arms again. That familiar guard rising. "Then say it. All of it. No filters this time."
He hesitated. Not from fear. From respect.
Some truths aren't secrets.
They're confessions.
"I pushed you away because I was protecting someone I never told you about," he said. "My brother. Callum."
Her eyes flickered. "Callum?"
"He got into deep trouble. Not just bad press trouble. Real danger. The kind you don't survive without making deals."
"And you dragged me into that without saying a word?"
"I didn't drag you," he said. "I left you behind. Because if anything had happened to you—"
"You didn't give me a choice," she cut in. "You decided for both of us. You don't get to call that love."
His voice was low. "You're right."
She looked away, blinking faster than she wanted him to notice. "I could've handled it. The chaos. The danger. I just needed to know I wasn't in it alone."
He moved closer. Careful, again.
"You weren't alone. I just didn't know how to hold something I loved without breaking it."
Her breath hitched.
"I hate that I still want to believe you," she said, voice raw.
"Then let me earn it. Not with promises. With proof."
Their eyes met.
Not forgiveness.
But something softer.
Something that might become hope.
---
Later — Damien's Private Suite
Damien's POV
He stood on the balcony, the city a glittering sprawl below.
Inside his desk, the envelope waited. The confession, the records, the truth he'd buried to protect Callum—and by extension, himself.
He'd let that lie fester long enough.
His phone buzzed.
> CALLUM: You sure about this? The truth cuts deeper than the lie did.
Damien didn't answer.
He slipped the envelope into a drawer. One she'd find.
He didn't need her permission anymore.
He needed her trust.
And trust couldn't live in the dark.
---
The Next Day — Garden Terrace
Damien's POV
She was already there.
Sitting beneath the magnolia tree, a porcelain teacup cradled in her hands like it held more than warmth. Like it held stillness. Control.
He approached, quiet. Waiting.
"I read the file," she said without looking at him.
He nodded once.
"I'm not angry that you protected Callum," she said. "I'm angry that you didn't trust me to stand beside you."
"I know."
She turned to him then. Her eyes softer. But still sharp. Always sharp.
"You're still a storm, Damien."
"I'll never be sunshine," he said. "But I won't leave you in the rain again."
She didn't speak.
But she didn't leave, either.
And for now… that was enough.
---