Lies Beneath His Touch

Episode3

Damien didn't move neither did Elena.

The black notebook lay between them on the library floor. For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the rain tapping against the windows.

Then Damien's gaze dropped to the notebook again.

Something changed in his face. Not surprise but recognition.

Elena saw it. “You know what this is.” She said, not as a question.

His eyes lifted to hers. “Yes.”

The answer came too quickly, Elena's pulse jumped.

“You've seen it before.”

“Yes.” He replied.

“Why?”

He walked into the library and closed the door behind him. The soft click of the lock sounded louder than it should have.

Elena took a step back.

“Don't lock the door.” She pleaded.

Damien immediately unlocked it. “I wasn't trying to trap you.”

“Then don't give me reasons to think you are.”

His jaw tightened. He walked toward the notebook but Elena reached it first.

She picked it up and held it against her chest, “You knew about this.”

“I knew you had a notebook.”

“Did you know what was inside?” She asked.

“No.” He replied.

Elena tapped the cover. “ I remember the feeling I had when I found it."

"What feeling?" Damien asked.

"That I wasn't supposed to trust someone."

His eyes remained on hers. "Did it say who?"

"No." She lied.

She had no intention of showing him the page, at least not yet.

Damien walked toward her.

"Elena."

"What?" She answered.

"You've been awake for a few days. Your memories are still unstable. You shouldn't be digging through things that might upset you."

"That sounds suspiciously like something a suspicious husband would say."

His mouth curved slightly, "Or a worried one."

She studied him. He was impossible to read.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened?" She begged.

"I have." He replied.

"No. You've told me what everyone thinks happened."

His gaze sharpened. "And what do you think happened?"

"I don't know."

She looked down at the notebook.

"That's the problem."

Damien was silent. Elena expected him to take it from her but he didn't. Instead, he asked her to keep it.

She looked up in surprise.

"You're not going to stop me?"

"No."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because eventually you'll remember why you wrote it."

Her stomach tightened, "Eventually?"

"Yes."

"And what happens then?"

He held her gaze, "You'll have answers."

It was an answer but not enough of one. Elena tucked the notebook against her chest.

"You're very mysterious for a husband." She sighed.

A faint smile appeared on Damien’s face. "And you're very suspicious for a wife."

She stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. It slipped out before she could stop it which made Damien's eyes soften

"What?"

"Nothing." She replied.

"You laughed."

"So?" She demanded.

"I missed that." The words were so quiet that her smile faded.

"You say that a lot."

"Because it's true." He said. He moved toward the door.

"Come."

"Where?" She asked.

"You're spending too much time in this library."

"Is that an order?"

"No."

He looked over his shoulder, "An invitation."

Elena hesitated before following him.

The moment they stepped into the hallway, she realized something.

Damien walked slower than he had before, not because he needed to but because he was waiting for her.

It was such a small thing yet itunsettled her. He seemed to know exactly how fast she walked. Exactly when she would pause.

Exactly when she would glance at something. As though he'd done it a thousand times. Perhaps he had.

The thought made her strangely uncomfortable. They reached the main staircase, Elena looked down.

"Where are we going?"

"Dinner"

"I already ate." She protested.

"You had half a piece of toast."

She stopped. "How do you know?"

"I was there."

She frowned. "You're observant."

"Only with you."

Her heart gave an annoying little flutter. She ignored it. They continued downstairs.

The dining room looked like something out of a luxury magazine. Tall windows, fresh flowers, silver cutlery.

A table large enough for twenty people yet only two places had been set.

Elena looked around.

"This is dinner?" She asked.

"Yes."

"For two people?" She looked surprised.

"Yes."

"This seems excessive."

Damien pulled out her chair. "You said the same thing the first time."

She looked at him, "The first time?"

"Yesterday."

"Oh." Realization hit her.

She sat while Damien took the chair opposite her.

A moment later, a maid entered carrying a tray. She placed a plate in front of Elena.

French toast. Fresh strawberries. And a bottle of wine.

Elena stared. "How did you know?"

Damien looked up from his phone, "Know what?"

"That I like strawberries."

He smiled faintly. "You've always liked them."

"How?" She asked.

"I pay attention."

She picked up a strawberry. "Do you remember everything about me?"

"Most things." He replied.

"That's impossible."

"Try me." He smiled.

She also smiled despite herself.

"What's my favorite color?" She jokingly asked.

"Green."

She blinked. "What?"

"Dark green."

She looked down at her dress, it was dark green. Her mouth fell open.

"Okay."

Damien's smile deepened.

"What's my favorite flower?"

"Peonies." Damien answered.

She stared in surprise.

"Favorite movie?" She asked further.

"You don't have one."

"What?"

"You hate choosing favorites." He added.

She laughed, "That's ridiculous."

"It's true."

"What do I hate?" Elena asked.

"Being late."

"Yes." She nodded in agreement.

"People who chew loudly."

"Absolutely."

"Cold coffee." He went on.

"Very much."

"Being told what to do." He continued.

"Definitely." She was surprised at how much the man knew about her.

"Being ignored."

She paused. Damien's eyes remained on hers.

"And?" She demanded.

"Being lied to."

Something shifted between them. Elena's smile disappeared. Damien lowered his gaze.

"I remember."

She didn't know what to say. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was almost intimate.

Elena found herself studying him.

His face. His hands. The small scar near his eyebrow. The way he held the cutlery. The way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her.

She wondered what he had looked like when she had loved him.

If she had loved him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." Damien answered almost immediately.

"What was I like with you?"

Damien leaned back. "You were..."

He smiled, "Annoying."

She laughed, "Andd?"

"You stole my shirts."

"I did?" She gasped.

"Constantly."

"Why?"

"You said they were more comfortable."

She looked at his shirt, it was crisp and expensive.

"Maybe I still like them."

His eyes lowered briefly to her. "Maybe."

"You don't seem surprised."

"I'm not."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because you've already stolen one."

She froze, "What?"

He smiled. "The shirt you're wearing."

Elena looked down. She was wearing an oversized T- shirt. She suddenly recognized it.

It smelled faintly like his cologne. Her cheeks warmed.

"This is yours?"

"Yes." He smirked.

"I thought it was mine."

"It was."

She looked at him suspiciously, "How?"

"You stole it."

She laughed. "I don't remember doing that."

"I do."

His voice softened. "And I remember letting you."

Something warm spread through her chest. For a moment, she forgot the notebook. Forgot the missing years. Forgot the questions.

There was only the strange familiarity of sitting across from a man who seemed to know every little piece of her.

Then Damien's phone rang. His expression changed immediately.

He stood.

"I need to take this." He said before walking toward the door.

Elena nodded.

Before leaving, he glanced back at her.

"Don't disappear."

She smiled. "I'll try."

He left. Elena sat alone at the table, her smile slowly faded. Her eyes drifted toward the doorway.

She didn't understand Damien Blackwood. She didn't understand their marriage. She didn't understand the three years missing from her life.

But there was something else she didn't understand.

Why did being around him feel less like meeting a stranger… and more like coming home to someone she'd forgotten?

She looked down at the ring on her finger.

Her thumb brushed over the tiny black crescent engraved beside the words.

Always find me.

A strange ache moved through her chest.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, a woman's voice whispered… Don't trust him.

Elena closed her eyes. The voice disappeared but the feeling remained.

And for the first time, she wondered whether forgetting Damien Blackwood had truly erased her past...

or only hidden the part of it that mattered most.