Chapter 8 - The Impossible Truth
1182 Words
She stared at Damien, her hands frozen in her lap, trying to make sense of the impossible truth. Her mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory from her reborn life. Married? How could this happen? I never agreed, I barely know him…
Damien’s gaze softened slightly, but there was a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “You look adorable when you’re panicking,” he said, leaning back slightly, his voice calm yet teasing. “Don’t worry, wifey. I won’t hurt you.
She wanted to leap up, demand answers, but the grandmother’s warm presence beside her kept her rooted. Focus, Arianne. Think.
He slowly stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Every movement exuded control, power, and certainty, the kind of certainty that made it impossible to argue. You know, he murmured, “marriage is not just a piece of paper. It’s a promise, a promise I intend to keep.”
Arianne’s lips parted, but no words came. Her throat felt dry, and her mind was spinning in a whirlwind of disbelief and fear.
This is insane… why me? Why now?
The grandmother’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Don’t be afraid, dear. He only wants what’s best for you,” she said with a knowing smile.
Damien, however, wasn’t finished. He sank into the chair opposite her, folding his hands in front of him. “I will protect you, wifey,” he said softly, yet with a tone that brooked no argument. “From your family, from anyone who tries to hurt you, even from yourself, if necessary.”
Arianne felt a strange tension rise in her chest , fear mixed with a flicker of curiosity, and even a tiny spark of defiance. From myself? she thought, narrowing her eyes. I… I don’t even understand why this is happening, she whispered.
Damien leaned forward, letting his voice drop into a low, intimate murmur. You will, in time. But for now, just know this: I will not let anyone take you from me. You are mine, Arianne. And I always keep my promises.
Her heart raced, a storm of confusion and disbelief swirling inside her. Every instinct screamed that she should run, yet every fiber of her body seemed rooted to the spot, trapped in the intensity of his gaze.
Arianne’s world felt like it had been flipped upside down. Her legs were heavy, each step echoing her confusion and disbelief, but she followed when his grandmother gently tugged her hand. Damien rose too, moving with that same calm confidence, his eyes never leaving her as a satisfied smile curved his lips.
At the dining table, the old lady carefully guided Arianne to sit in the middle seat, placing herself on the left and Damien on the right, an arrangement that felt deliberate, as if she were being enclosed.
Sit here, dear, the grandmother said warmly, her tone filled with affection Arianne had never known. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she served her a plate. “Eat, sweetheart.”
Arianne stared down at the food in front of her. Her chest tightened. It was true, the papers, the words Damien had spoken, the way his grandmother welcomed her, it was all real. And yet, something unexpected stirred within her. Fear, yes. But also a strange, foreign warmth.
No one had ever placed food on her plate before. No one had ever held her hand with such tenderness. Not her parents. Not her siblings. Not anyone.
The tears came suddenly, hot and uncontrollable, sliding down her cheeks. She turned to the old woman, her voice breaking.
“C-Can you… hug me, Grandma?”
The old lady’s face softened, and without hesitation, she opened her arms. “Oh, my sweet child,” she murmured as she wrapped Arianne into her embrace, gently patting her back like she had always belonged there.
Damien sat silently, his gaze sharp, but for once, he did not speak. He simply watched her cry in another’s arms, his eyes unreadable.
“Thank you… Grandma,” Arianne whispered after a long moment, her voice steadier, though her heart still trembled.
“Are you alright now?” the old lady asked, studying her face with deep concern.
“Yes,” Arianne replied softly, though she wasn’t sure if it was the truth.
“Good,” Grandma said with a smile, touching her cheek lightly. “Then let’s eat.”
The atmosphere lightened just slightly. Chopsticks clicked, bowls shifted, and the air smelled rich with spices and warmth.
Without a word, Damien reached forward, placing a portion of food onto her plate. His lips curved into a faint smirk.
“I want a hug too,” he said, his tone low and playful, as if teasing.
Arianne lowered her head, refusing to acknowledge his words. She picked up her chopsticks and forced herself to eat, pretending she hadn’t heard him at all.
The grandmother, however, chuckled softly, her eyes shining with amusement. To her, it looked like young love in its earliest bloom, awkward, intense, and full of unspoken feelings.
She smiled at the two of them, utterly delighted.
Damien leaned back slightly, watching in silence as Arianne’s shoulders trembled in his grandmother’s embrace. To anyone else, it was a tender moment between an old woman and a frightened girl. But to him, it was much more.
She had turned to his grandmother for comfort. Not to him.
His jaw flexed as he masked the flicker of irritation beneath a calm expression. He had given her his name, his protection, his claim, and yet, she clung to another’s warmth. But then, as he observed closer, his eyes softened. The truth was written in her tears: no one had ever shown her love before. No wonder she sought it the moment it was offered.
She doesn’t even know how much she needs me yet, he thought, eyes narrowing slightly. But she will.
When his grandmother patted Arianne’s back, calling her sweet child, Damien felt something tighten inside him. His grandmother was smiling now, content, as though Arianne had always belonged here.
And Damien knew why. Because Arianne was the first woman who had caught his interest, the first he’d allowed to step into his world. And she was the only one he had ever brought home. Not for approval. Not for negotiation. But because he had already decided, this was it. She was his.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips when he set food on her plate. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t thank him. She didn’t even flinch at his playful demand for a hug, she simply ignored him, focused on eating as though nothing else existed.
To anyone else, her indifference might sting. To Damien, it was intoxicating.
Fight me all you want, little one. Resist, cry, run. None of it matters. You’re already mine. And the more you try to deny me, the more I’ll make sure you can’t look anywhere else but at me.
She was the only one who mattered, and he intended to make her understand that.
- Writer
