Tangled Secrets
953 Words
Vivienne’s kitchen, heart still racing, the air thick with tension. Adrian is gone. Damien remains.
The silence in the kitchen was suffocating.
Vivienne stood motionless by the counter, her fingers clenched tightly around the edge as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. The dim under-cabinet lights cast a pale hue over the room, outlining her trembling silhouette.
Behind her, Damien hadn’t moved. The low hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them, too loud in the quiet.
She felt him — not physically, but like a storm waiting to be unleashed. His presence tugged at her spine. She didn’t dare turn around.
“He’s gone,” Damien’s voice finally broke the silence. Calm. Controlled. But edged with something darker. “Should I be flattered you told me to leave first?”
Vivienne slowly exhaled. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.” His footsteps crept closer. “But I stood there, Viv, listening to your husband try to convince you to let him back in after everything he did. And I’m still here. You think that’s easy for me?”
She turned now, eyes blazing. “And what exactly do you want? A thank you? A medal?”
“I want the truth,” he snapped. “I want to know what the hell I’m doing here, because you keep pushing me away like I’m the mistake.”
“You are,” she said, voice breaking. “You are the mistake I chose to make. Because you made me forget just how badly I was broken.”
Damien’s expression shifted — something wounded flickered across his features, only to vanish under a cold mask. He stepped back, lips tightening. “So that’s all I am to you? A rebound? A distraction from your damn trauma?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The temperature in the room dropped. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly freezing.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered.
He moved closer again — slower this time, careful, cautious like she was glass. “Do what? Let someone care about you?”
“I’m not ready to be anyone’s anything, Damien. I’m still trying to figure out who I am without him. Without... all of it.”
Damien stopped in front of her, searching her face. “Then why do you keep calling me back when I try to leave?”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Because you make it worse. And better. And worse again.”
His jaw flexed. “You think this is easy for me? I’m not good at soft. I’m not Luca, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”
She flinched slightly at the mention of Luca’s name.
He noticed.
“Right,” Damien said flatly. “So that’s where your mind’s going now.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
She looked away.
“Do you feel safe with him?” he asked quietly. “Safer than with me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But that’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“I feel too much with you.”
Damien didn’t respond for a moment. He just stared at her, and for the first time, she saw him soften — not with weakness, but with restraint. His darkness wasn’t just rage and possessiveness. It was fear. Of losing her. Of never being enough.
“You’re not broken, Viv,” he said lowly. “You’re just surviving. And I see you. Even when you hate yourself, I see you.”
And she hated how those words made her want to fall into him again.
Before she could respond, a knock echoed sharply from the front door.
Her eyes darted toward the hallway.
Damien’s shoulders tensed. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Do not answer that alone.”
She didn’t argue. They walked together through the hallway, Damien slightly ahead, protective by instinct. The knock came again — firmer this time.
Vivienne peeked through the peephole.
A familiar face.
Luca.
Vivienne’s heart skipped.
She turned back to Damien, who had noticed her expression change.
“Who is it?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“It’s... it’s Luca.”
Damien’s expression darkened instantly.
Of course it was.
Of all times.
Vivienne reached for the door handle. Damien’s hand caught her wrist.
“You’re really going to let him in? Now?”
She hesitated. “He’s my friend.”
Damien laughed — dry and bitter. “No, he’s not.”
She yanked her hand free and opened the door anyway.
Luca stood there, sharp in a fitted coat, concern shadowing his features. “Vivienne. I came to check on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”
She swallowed. “Now’s not the best time—”
His eyes drifted over her shoulder, meeting Damien’s from across the hall.
“Oh,” Luca said coolly. “You have company.”
Damien stepped forward, chin lifted in challenge. “Problem with that?”
Vivienne shot Damien a warning look, then turned to Luca. “Can we talk later? Please?”
Luca nodded slowly, eyes lingering on her face, searching. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
He gave her a small smile — tight-lipped and wounded. “Alright. Just... call me.”
She closed the door softly, heart pounding against her ribs.
Damien didn’t say anything.
Neither did she.
The war inside her was raging. Two sides pulling. One made her burn. The other made her breathe.
And Vivienne had no idea which one would destroy her first.
- Writer
