The air in the living room felt heavier than it should have.
For a second, I thought maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. That the shape I was seeing, sitting right across from my parents, wasn’t real. But then he looked up. And that single glance was enough to make my breath catch somewhere between disbelief and dread.
Damian.
He sat like he belonged there, one leg casually crossed over the other, an easy calm in his posture that I knew better than to trust. The quiet confidence. The faint curve of his lips that wasn’t quite a smile but carried enough power to silence a room.
My pulse stumbled.
Beside me, Taylor went still. His hand, halfway to brushing his hair back, froze mid-motion. I could almost feel the shift in him, that subtle stiffness, the unspoken question behind his ey
