Lena barely slept.
Each time she shut her eyes, it was Damian propped up by the hall wall...
He stared at her like she'd stumbled into a secret moment - sharp, risky, his alone, no invite needed.
She flipped over, shifted again, shoved her face into the cushion - then focused on keeping her breath steady.
Nothing helped.
When dawn came, light poured into her space from the high panes - gentle, cozy. Nothing like the emptiness in her chest. Though outside glowed, inside stayed cold.
She rose slow, then washed off in the shower, combed her hair out, yet slipped into something basic - denim plus a cozy white shirt. Easy to move in. Feels secure. Not the sort of look meant to grab a rich guy's eye.
Yet a voice inside said no outfit could hide her from Damian's eyes - if he meant to look.
She exhaled shakily.
Just let it go. Forget his name. Move on already.
Yet her heart kept pounding anyway.
---
Breakfast came out in a space larger than her past flat. Mom plus Richard perched by the table's front end, chuckling low about a clip on his device.
No sight of Damian.
Good.
She still wasn't sure about being near him - especially not after what happened the night before.
She sat down, spread butter on toast, acting like her hands weren't shaking.
Richard glanced up, his face lighting up with a friendly grin.
"Sleep well, Lena?"
"Uh... yeah," she said, not telling the truth.
She felt her mom lean across, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
"It will take a few days to get used to this house. I got lost twice last night."
Lena pushed out a grin.
"I'm fine. Really."
She wasn't.
A tight knot pressed down inside her gut, like unseen eyes followed every move - even if he stayed out of sight.
Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks.
Maybe—
A soft step echoed from behind. Yet it was barely a whisper in the stillness.
Not loud.
Not rushed.
That calm, quiet sort - sure of itself without trying.
Lena didn't need to look back.
She recognized that feeling right away.
Damian stepped inside wearing tight black top with dark pants. Hair kind of tousled, as if he'd raked fingers through it coming up. Face blank, hard to tell what he was thinking. Gaze locked onto her - focused, steady, not looking away.
She stood up a bit more.
He sat right opposite her.
The lengthy table sat with a dozen unoccupied seats.
Yet he picked her.
Her mother beamed.
"Oh, good morning, sweetheart!"
Damian didn't respond.
Not to her mom, also not to his dad.
His eyes stayed fixed on her.
Slow.
Heavy.
Controlled.
She wanted to turn her eyes elsewhere -
failed.
Richard coughed a little, feeling uneasy.
"Damian, you have the meeting with the board this afternoon, remember?"
"Mm."
A simple sound.
Yet he kept staring at Lena.
She held the fork tighter.
She moved closer as her mom tilted sideways.
"So! What do you want to do today, honey? Maybe we can explore the city, buy some new clothes—"
"I have class," Lena said quickly. "At eleven."
Her mother blinked.
"Oh, right. I forgot today was Wednesday."
Damian thumped his fingertip on the wood - one tap, quiet, focused.
"You're still in school," he said.
Not asked.
Stated.
His voice moved over the table, almost sneaking, quiet-like.
Lena's pulse stuttered.
"Yes."
"What major?"
She hesitated.
He hadn't questioned her until now.
Why now?
"Books," she answered after a pause.
His jaw jerked - maybe he figured things would go another way.
Richard chuckled lightly.
"Don't scare her with your interrogation."
Damian slouched in his chair yet kept staring at her.
"I'm not interrogating her," he said.
Still, his gaze pressed down just the same way.
Lena sucked in air, unsteady. Yet her hands stayed still.
She needed air.
Space.
Distance.
She stood.
"I should go get ready."
Her mother nodded.
"Alright, sweetheart."
Yet when Lena shifted, a sensation hit her -
Damian watched each move she made. His eyes stayed locked on her path.
---
The corridor felt still while she moved to her door, holding her phone, slowing down her breath.
Then—
A shape shifted just past her back.
She froze.
Turned.
Damian stood by the hall's far edge, hands tucked away, face hard to read. Yet something felt off about how still he was. Though quiet, his stance carried weight. Stillness like that usually meant trouble brewing. Not loud, just tense - like before a storm hits.
"Are you avoiding me?"
The question struck her like something she could feel.
"I—what? No. I'm just—"
"Lying."
He spoke softly. Way too softly.
He moved closer bit by bit, calm but steady, like her pulse wasn't speeding up on its own.
Lena stepped back a bit till her shoulders hit the wall.
She couldn't stand how he got to her.
She couldn't stand how deeply it hit her anymore.
Damian halted real close to her.
"You didn't look at me once during breakfast," he murmured.
"That's not true."
"It is."
She gulped, her throat now parched.
"Why does it matter to you?"
His eyes grew dim - no rage there, just a keener edge.
Something he shouldn't have felt at all.
"No way," he claimed, yet his voice showed otherwise.
His eyes fell next - down to her mouth.
Then hung around way past needed.
Lena's breath caught.
He stepped closer.
She sensed the warmth from him, then noticed how his chest moved - slow, even breaths. Yet underneath, there was tension, held back like a coiled spring.
"You shouldn't walk through this house alone," he said softly.
"Why?" she whispered.
His jaw flexed.
He looked up from her lips to her eyes.
"Because I notice things," he murmured, "that I shouldn't notice."
Her heartbeat stopped.
Damian pulled away at once, like he'd shown more than meant to.
Like he wanted space instead
He stopped himself before words came out - ones he'd regret letting go.
He left without another glance her way.
But Lena could feel it -
The start of a risky situation.
Forbidden.
Yet so hard to ignore.