Elle
A knock cuts through the room. Too sharp.
I freeze. My heart jumps.
It has to be Camila.
I rush to the door, barely remembering to breathe as I twist the lock and pull it open.
"Cam..."
I stop.
It isn't her.
Damian stands in the doorway, rain in his hair, collar slightly undone like he left somewhere in a hurry. His eyes find mine, immediately.
For a second, neither of us speaks. The weight in his gaze hits harder than the dream.
"We need to talk," he says quietly.
My fingers tighten on the edge of the door.
I'm not ready for him. Not tonight.
Not with the grave still echoing in my head.
I step back because I don't trust my voice yet. Damian walks in slowly. He looks tired. Not the usual kind. This one sits deep in his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
He exhales, low and rough. "You did not answer my calls, so I had to come."
"I was busy," I say. It comes out sharper than I planned.
His jaw flexes. "I know. I saw the shelter posts online. You were supposed to wait for me."
I almost laugh. "You were supposed to show up."
That shuts him up for a moment. He drags a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of me again.
"Marielle, there's an update about our... engagement."
His tone shifts. Calm on the surface, but there is something heavy beneath it. I brace myself without meaning to.
"What happened?" I ask.
He stops pacing. His shoulders fall a little. He looks at me like he already knows I won't like the answer.
"We need to end this... engagement."
My breath catches. I hold it still, like if I move, the moment will shatter.
Then the words settle. Sink. Echo.
He ended it.
This is the part where I should feel relief. Freedom. Vindication. Anything close to happiness. Instead, something small and quiet cracks inside me. I ignore it.
I lift my chin. "That's… great news."
He studies me carefully. "Great news."
"Yes." My voice is steady, too steady. "We finally got what we both wanted."
Damian does not respond immediately. His eyes stay locked on mine, searching for something I refuse to let him see.
"Just like that?" he asks.
The question hangs in the air. Heavy. Sharp. It makes my chest feel tight.
I force a nod. "Yes. You want a parting gift?"
He exhales slowly, but he does not look relieved. If anything, he looks more unsettled now. That alone tells me he expected a different reaction from me.
I feel the lie sitting under my ribs. I push it down because I cannot afford to feel anything else tonight, not with Camila's grave burned into my mind.
Damian's eyes soften for the first time since he walked in. "I'll make the announcement because I thought it would make things easier for you."
"It does," I say. "It really does."
He tilts his head slightly. "Then why do you look like you are about to break?"
My pulse jumps. I step back before he can see too much. His presence pulls at parts of me I am trying hard to shut off.
"I'm tired," I say. "That's all."
He watches me. Quiet. Intense. The kind of gaze that feels like hands around my thoughts.
For a moment, the room is too still. Too close.
"I want you to be honest with me," he says.
I take a breath. It shakes. "And I want you to leave it alone."
His jaw tightens again. Not angry. Frustrated. Confused. He is trying to understand something I am not ready to explain.
Before he can speak again, my phone lights up on the couch beside me.
Camila.
The name hits like a punch. Everything tightens.
Damian turns, sees the screen, looks back at me.
"You should answer that," he says.
I move past him, my hands shaking as I pick up the phone.
My whole world shifts again, and Damian feels it too. He watches me with a different kind of worry now.
I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.
"Cam?" My voice feels thin. "Where are you? I've been calling."
She exhales shakily. "I just got off work and I got your voice note. I'm… Elle, are you sure about this? Leaving tonight?"
Her tone is unsteady, like she was drenched in the rain.
"Yes," I say without hesitation. "We have to. It's important."
"Important how?" she asks. "You sounded scared."
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. Damian's presence feels like a storm behind me.
"I'll explain everything when you get here," I say. "I already packed for the both of us. Essentials only. Just come home. No detours."
She goes quiet.
"Elle… are you okay?"
I swallow. "I will be. Just come."
Another pause. Then a soft, resigned sigh.
"Alright. I'm on my way."
The line clicks off.
I lower the phone slowly, aware of Damian watching me like he is trying to read between every breath I take.
He takes a step closer. "You're traveling."
It isn't a question. It's an accusation wrapped in confusion.
"Yes."
"Why?" His brows draw together. "You just ended an engagement. You should be relieved, not running." He was trying to be funny now.
I meet his eyes. They're sharp, searching. "Something came up."
"That's vague," he says quietly.
"Because not everything is your business."
His jaw shifts. Not from anger. From something colder. Something hurt he doesn't know how to name.
"We were in an engagement, Elle," he says. "Accidental or not, your safety was still part of it. So tell me why you are leaving in the middle of the night."
I shake my head. "You made the decision to end it. I'm making mine."
"That isn't an answer."
"It's the only one I'm giving you."
He studies me again, slower this time. The frustration fades, replaced by something wary. "Are you in danger?" he asks.
"No."
"Is Camila in danger?"
My breath catches. Just for a second. It's enough.
I exhale. "I'm not discussing this."
He moves closer. Close enough that I feel the warmth of him, the tension, the concern he will never admit.
"Then at least tell me where you're going."
"No."
"You expect me to accept that?"
"Yes."
Silence stretches. Heavy but steady.
Finally he steps back, hands sliding into his pockets.
"Fine." The word lands softer than it should.
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes again.
Camila.
Text message: I'm almost here.
I pick up my bag.
Damian watches me walk past him.
This moment feels like the line where everything shifts; the breakup, the fear, the grave, the truth pulling me home.
I open the door.
"Goodnight, Damian."
He doesn't move.
"Marielle," he says quietly.
I pause.
He looks at me like he feels something slipping between us even though neither of us will admit it.
"This isn't over."
I close the door before I can react to that.
Outside, the night waits. And everything in my life is about to change.