The car ride from the reception felt strangely quiet. Outside the window, city lights moved past us in soft colors. Inside, it felt like there was a wall between us.
Damien sat beside me, looking straight ahead. I could tell he was thinking about something, but he didn't speak. And I didn't want to be the first to break the silence. I was tired. Tired from smiling. Tired from pretending.
Finally, he said, "Are you upset with me?"
I turned my head toward him. "Why do you think I'm upset?"
"You hardly spoke to me after talking with Leon," he said.
"I was just tired, Damien. That's all." I paused. "And I didn't like you telling me who I can talk to."
His jaw moved a little, like he was holding back a response. "I wasn't telling you who you can talk to. I was warning you about him."
"Why do you think he's a danger?" I asked.
"He's not harmless," he said. "He acts kind, but he always wants something."
"And what does he want?" I asked.
Damien didn't answer. Or maybe he didn't know.
We reached the penthouse shortly after. When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out first. Damien followed a second later.
Inside the apartment, everything was spotless and perfect — almost too perfect. Soft lights, clean lines, luxury everywhere. But it didn't feel warm. It didn't feel like home.
Damien loosened his tie. "You should rest," he said. "It's been a long day."
I nodded. "It has."
I started toward the hallway, but something stopped me. I turned back.
"Damien… can I ask you something?"
He looked at me, a little surprised. "What is it?"
"Did you ever imagine your wedding day?" I asked. "I don't mean with me — just in general."
He froze for a second, as if I had asked something private.
Then he said quietly, "No. I never imagined it."
I waited, thinking he would say more. But he didn't.
Then he asked, "Did you?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. I did. I always thought I'd marry someone because I loved them. Because we wanted to choose each other."
His expression changed. Not anger. Not frustration. Something softer. Something almost sad.
"I'm… sorry," he said. The words came out low and honest.
I didn't know how to respond.
So I just said, "Goodnight, Damien," and I walked to the bedroom.
I closed the door behind me, and I leaned against it for a moment. I felt a mix of emotions I couldn't untangle. Confusion. Doubt. A strange ache I didn't want.
I took off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. The wedding ring on my finger caught the light. I looked at it for a moment, feeling its weight. Was it a symbol… or a shackle?
A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door.
"Zara?"
His voice was calm.
"Yes?"
"May I come in?"
I hesitated, then said, "Okay."
He opened the door slowly and stepped inside. He didn't come too close.
"I know this is not normal," he said. "And I know you didn't ask for this."
I met his eyes. "Neither did you."
He nodded. "That's true."
We stood there in silence, just looking at each other.
Then he said, "I want us to at least try to be… respectful. Honest. And not enemies."
His voice sounded genuine.
I took a slow breath. "I want the same."
Something eased between us, even if just a little.
He gave me a small nod and said, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I replied.
He left, closing the door quietly.
I lay down in bed and stared at the ceiling. I wasn't in love with him. Not even close. But something was changing. Something small, but real.
And I didn't know if that scared me… or comforted me.