The document trembled in my hands. Or maybe it was me.
I couldn't feel my fingers anymore — only the burn in my chest, my throat feels dry and my words became grumpy and inaudible
"You bought me," I whispered, the words scraping their way out. "You bought me, too… didn't you?"
Damien's eyes closed. No denial. No outrage. Just a long, exhaled silence that felt like confirmation.
Didn't feel like it was confirmation itself since we all know silence means consent. He couldn't find more lies to back up his words so he remained mute.
Something inside me cracked.
The study felt too small. Too cold. Too filled with shadows shaped like him. To hunting
I stepped back, the paper rustling in my fist. Damien opened his eyes, and I hated that flicker of something — regret? Guilt? Or disappointment?— softened them, He shouldn't act like he's regretting already or maybe he's disappointed in himself because he knew from the start what exactly he was about to do, the damage his decision back then will cause someday, he knew but decided to do it anyways so why is he acting like my reactions got a thing on him?
"Eva —" he started.
"Don't." My voice was thin but sharp. "Just… don't."
I moved toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Damien didn't follow. Not at first.
Only when my hand touched the doorknob did he say quietly,
"It wasn't like that."
I froze. The lie, the half-truth, or something worse —
I didn't know.
But i knew i was done listening to excuses, I won't lie I am fed up with all the lies.all the half truths. the deceit and I was only trying to protect you rubbish.
"You don't get to decide what it was," I said.
He says, "If you walk out now, you won't understand anything."
I reply, "I think I understand enough."
—
I walk out to get some air, every air in there feels thick and it feels like I am suffocating.
I later realized I have nowhere to go. In times like this, I'm not happy with my dad so I decided not to go anywhere near there.
I just wanted a place where only I can stay for a week to think about my life and what I'll want to do next with my life. Though I don't think I'll be able to do that if I don't get the whole truth and know why they decided to do this.
I sat under the umbrella tree at the corner of the mansion, my eyes still swollen and my head aches.
The air is lighter out here, I could breathe more as I swing my legs and look at God's beautiful creation— the birds and leaves. Even the birds of the earth have a home but I didn't, they have who to run to but I don't.
Tears welled up my eyes again but I quickly damped it.
After some hours I walked in to get some sleep,
Damien was still standing there almost like he didn't move an inch all the time.
Eva, he called out. I know you hate me now but can we talk?
At least so you get to know the actual truth.
I paused, I haven't seen him this emotional before.
I am tired Damien, I am tired of everything.
I know but please just a listening ear will help mitigate this issue. He said.
I walked toward the chairs close to the desk where the documents still lie and sat down. I'm listening.
Damien admits he gave my father the money a week before the proposal.
But he insists the marriage wasn't a "purchase."
He tells her I wasn't supposed to know about the transfer.
He says my father asked him for help — begged him not to involve her.
"My anger wavers, replaced by confusion but I still felt used"
Damien doesn't deny orchestrating circumstances that pushed me towards accepting the marriage contract.
I finally got the courage to ask the question I have been avoiding:
"Why me? Out of everyone — why me?"
Damien tenses. This is the question he doesn't want to answer.
After a long silence, he says:
"Because you were already tied to everything I was trying to fix."
That's when I realized — Damien didn't choose me randomly.
Something about their families, their past, their fathers' business deal — had already entangled us years ago.
This answer took me down memory lane briefly before we got married. I asked him why he didn't pick a model and he said I'm something like they're going to spill and I hate him too much to do that and I am just convenient for it.
Damien finally says, "Your father wasn't the only one who owed a debt."
I feel the ground shift beneath me, I was trying to think straight but could not.
Damien steps closer, his voice low:
"I didn't buy you. I saved you from something far worse."
"Far worse"? I repeated, "Yes" He replied
What's that? What's something?
He looked at me and looked down.
He refuses to say what the "something" is.
What could that something be? I asked again with my eyes shining bright.
Damien I demands answers; he refuses to say with a tight, pained expression.
I laughed bitterly and whispered, "You're still lying. Even now."
He doesn't deny it.
I hand him the document back — a quiet rejection.
"If you want me to stay in this marriage, you owe me the truth." I said before getting up.
Damien did not stop me this time as I walked away.
Then he said something, it's either to himself or he is whispering towards me though I couldn't tell but I heard it faintly almost like regret filling his words
"If I tell you the truth… you'll leave."
I left there and went upstairs — only to find something slipped under my studio door:
A note in elegant handwriting:
"Ask him about the first deal.
— G."
Graham.