Chapter Three
1543 Words
Damian sat close to the fireplace, a glass of whisky in his hand. He closed his eyes briefly trying to relieve himself of the pain that tugged so much at his heart.
The house was quiet and the workers had retired for the night, he couldn't rest as images of his beloved flashed in his eyes.
Why?
He really couldn't understand it. Why after all the years he'd been alone without love, having to meet up to his father's expectations and carry the legacy of the Wayne family. He'd finally found love, Ariana had been a glint of hope, a ray of sunshine in the midst of chaos, her voice was like music.
Just hearing her talk could put him to a peaceful sleep and then just as quickly as he had come into his life, she vanished like vapour.
Her death still tore at his heart. He hadn't even had time to mourn her, a day after her death he heard he was going to get married to Isabel. Isabel?
And what angered him more was that she seemed happy about it. Why would she be happy when he grieved the loss of her sister.
Her sister!
And yet, he knew that was not the only reason he despised her.
She was the very image of Ariana. Living, breathing, talking. The very thing Ariana couldn't do. How would he be able to look at her face and breathe, he wanted her far away from him. He couldn't bear the sight of her.
He drained the remaining content in the glass and poured himself more to drink.
Today, on the night of his wedding, he would drink to mourn his love. They were supposed to get married today but then, she was six feet under.
His vision became blurry as he came under the influence of the alcohol.
Isabel, who had remained in the library for fear of running into Damian, decided that it was about time she came out of her hiding place. She walked silently up the stairs when she met Damian staggering towards her. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him stare at her. She stood rooted to the spot not sure if she should approach him or just turn back to the library.
“Where have you been?” Damian asked, staggering towards her. Isabel stared at him surprised, unsure she'd heard him clearly. His voice held a warmth that she'd never spoken to her with.
She couldn't speak. Was he testing her?
When he reached her, she could smell the faint scent of whisky in his cologne.
Had he been drinking?
Isabel swallowed hard as Damian closed the distance between them. His dark eyes seemed clouded, but there was something else in them—something she’d never seen directed at her before. It wasn’t the cold indifference she was used to; it was softer, almost tender.
“I asked…where have you been?” he repeated, his voice low and uneven.
“I…I was in the library,” Isabel managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else that made her chest feel tight.
Damian nodded, swaying slightly as he stood before her. His gaze lingered on her face, and Isabel resisted the urge to step back. “You’re here,” he murmured, as though trying to convince himself.
“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, unsure where this was going.
Without warning, he reached out and cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Isabel froze, her heart thundering in her chest. She had never seen him like this before—so vulnerable, so…lost.
“I thought I lost you,” Damian said, his voice breaking. “I thought…I’d never see you again.”
Her breath hitched. Was this really happening? Could this cold, distant man be opening up to her at last?
“Damian,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
He didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes searched her face, and for a moment, she thought he might cry. “You don’t know how much I need you,” he said, his words slurred but heavy with emotion.
Before she could process what was happening, Damian’s legs gave out, and he sank to his knees. Isabel instinctively reached out to steady him, and he rested his head on her lap.
Her hands hovered uncertainly above him before she gently placed them on his shoulders. “Damian, are you okay?” she asked softly.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her. “Just like always. You always make everything better, Ariana.”
Isabel’s blood ran cold at the name. Ariana.
Her heart dropped, but she didn’t pull away. He was drunk, she told herself. He didn’t mean it. But still, the sting of hearing him call her by her sister’s name cut deep.
Damian shifted slightly, his arms wrapping loosely around her waist. “I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can survive it a second time.”
Isabel bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. She stroked his hair hesitantly, unsure if it was the right thing to do but unable to resist. “You won’t lose me,” she said, her voice barely audible.
He sighed, a sound that was equal parts relief and despair. “Stay with me,” he said. “Please. Don’t go.”
Her heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to take away his hurt, even if it meant pretending she was someone else.
Damian tilted his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers. For a fleeting moment, he looked completely sober, his eyes piercing and intense. “You’re my everything,” he whispered before pressing a light, almost hesitant kiss to her lips.
Isabel’s breath caught. The kiss was brief but full of emotion, and she found herself leaning into it, her eyes fluttering shut. When he pulled away, his head dropped back onto her lap, and within moments, his breathing evened out as he drifted into sleep.
She sat there for what felt like an eternity, her mind racing. Had it all been real? Had Damian finally opened up to her? Her fingers brushed against her lips, the memory of his kiss sending a shiver down her spine.
Eventually, she managed to ease him off her lap and onto the floor. She covered him with a nearby blanket before retreating to her room, her emotions swirling.
As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts were a whirlwind of hope and doubt. Could it be possible that Damian had feelings for her? Was this his way of showing it?
The next morning, sunlight streamed through her window, pulling Isabel from a restless sleep. She sat up, her mind immediately returning to the events of the night before. A soft smile played on her lips as she replayed his words.
She reached for her phone, dialing the number of her closest friend, Clara. It rang twice before a cheerful voice answered, “Isabel! Good morning! It's a pleasure you called me from your honeymoon “
“Morning, Clara,” Isabel said, her voice still groggy. “I…I need to talk to you about something.”
“What’s wrong?” Clara asked, her tone instantly concerned.
Isabel hesitated before diving in. “Damian…he…he opened up to me last night. He said things…things I never thought I’d hear from him.”
“Wait, are you serious? Damian, as in your husband Damian?” Clara asked, disbelief evident in her voice.
“Yes,” Isabel said, her cheeks flushing. “He was…different. Vulnerable. He even kissed me.”
Clara let out a low whistle. “Wow. That’s…huge. What brought this on?”
“He’d been drinking,” Isabel admitted, her voice soft. “But still, it felt so real, Clara. He said he needed me. He didn’t want to lose me.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Clara spoke. “You know what they say, right? A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.”
Isabel’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be true? Could Damian’s drunken confession have been his true feelings?
“You really think so?” she asked, hope creeping into her voice.
“I do,” Clara said firmly. “But be careful, Isabel. Alcohol or not, you need to be sure he meant what he said.”
Isabel nodded to herself. “I think…I think I’ll tell him how I feel,” she said, her voice gaining confidence.
“You’re really going to do it?” Clara asked, her voice both surprised and supportive.
“Yes,” Isabel said, a small smile forming on her lips. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t care. It’s time he knows the truth.”
As she ended the call, Isabel felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. She couldn’t ignore the possibility that Damian might feel the same way about her.
But deep down, a tiny voice whispered a warning she couldn’t shake.
What if it wasn’t her he saw last night?
- Writer
