Falling for the fallen Episode 7
1928 Words
🌹 Chapter Eighteen: The Almost Kiss
The days that followed were a blur of meetings, interviews, and carefully chosen words.
On the surface, Lana and Damien were perfect professionals — polite, efficient, and completely unaffected.
At least, that’s what everyone else thought.
But behind every exchanged glance was a thousand unsaid things.
Behind every “good morning” was a heartbeat that still remembered.
They were working late again — of course they were. The office was quiet, city lights glowing outside like distant stars.
Lana rubbed her temples. “We’ve been at this for hours. Maybe we should—”
> “Take a break?” Damien finished for her. “You read my mind.”
He stood, walking to the window. His reflection shimmered against the glass, shoulders tense beneath his white shirt.
Without the armor of his suit jacket, he looked almost… human.
> “You ever wonder if we made the right choices?” he asked suddenly.
She hesitated. “You mean… us?”
He turned, eyes soft. “I mean everything. The time. The distance. The silence.”
Lana’s chest tightened. “We had to. It was the only way to survive.”
> “Survive,” he repeated, like the word hurt his tongue. “But we didn’t live, did we?”
She looked away. “Don’t do this.”
> “Do what?”
“Make me remember what I’m trying to forget.”
He stepped closer. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget.”
Lana exhaled shakily. “Damien—”
He was in front of her now, close enough that the scent of his cologne made her dizzy.
> “Tell me you don’t still feel it,” he whispered.
She swallowed hard. “Feel what?”
> “This.”
He reached out, brushing his fingers down her arm. It was barely a touch, but it set every nerve on fire.
Her breath caught. “This isn’t right.”
> “Then stop me.”
But she didn’t.
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of her lips. Their eyes met — raw, aching, familiar.
> “You still tremble,” he murmured.
“And you still push,” she breathed.
> “Only when it’s worth it.”
He leaned in — slow, hesitant, the world narrowing to the space between their mouths.
Her heart hammered. Her eyes fluttered shut.
And then—
Knock. Knock.
“Mr. Blackwood?” Camille’s voice. “Sorry to interrupt, but the clients from Milan are calling—”
Lana stepped back instantly, heart pounding, cheeks flushed.
Damien closed his eyes, jaw tight. “Of course they are.”
Camille peeked in, eyes flicking between them, clearly sensing the charged air. “Did I… come at a bad time?”
Lana grabbed her files. “No. Perfect timing, actually.”
She brushed past Damien, avoiding his gaze entirely.
He called softly after her,
> “Lana…”
She paused at the doorway — just for a second — before whispering,
> “Some storms never pass, Damien. We just learn how to stand in the rain.”
And then she was gone.
---
That night, neither of them slept.
Both of them stared at their ceilings, hearts echoing with the same unspoken truth —
They’d almost kissed.
And it had felt like falling all over again.
🌹 Chapter Nineteen: The Breaking Point
The next morning, the office buzzed louder than usual.
Whispers. Glances. A tension in the air that Lana felt before she even stepped inside.
When she reached her desk, her assistant handed her a tablet. “You might want to see this.”
There it was — a photo on one of the business blogs: Damien Blackwood and Camille Laurent spotted leaving a gala together, smiling.
Lana’s stomach dropped.
She tried to laugh it off, tell herself it meant nothing. She knew the press exaggerated everything.
But the picture… it looked intimate.
Camille’s hand rested lightly on Damien’s arm, her face turned toward him, laughing at something he’d said.
The caption burned her: The CEO’s new mystery woman?
Her heart whispered, Don’t believe it.
Her pride whispered louder, You should have known better.
---
Later that day, during a joint presentation, she barely looked at him.
> “Lana,” Damien said softly after the meeting, catching her as everyone left, “can we talk?”
She forced a polite smile. “About what? The project?”
> “No. About us.”
She lifted a brow. “I didn’t know there was still an ‘us.’”
He sighed. “You saw the article, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. Everyone did.”
> “It’s not what it looks like. Camille’s on the board for the charity we sponsor. We left the gala together because—”
“Because you didn’t want to walk alone?” she interrupted sharply. “Don’t bother explaining, Damien. You don’t owe me anything.”
> “Lana, please,” he said, stepping closer. “You know me better than that.”
She met his eyes — and that was the problem. She did know him. She knew every glance, every heartbeat, every flicker of truth.
But she also knew how much it hurt to be wrong before.
“I thought I did,” she whispered.
> “You still do,” he said quietly.
She shook her head, backing away. “Then why does it feel like you’re slipping away again?”
The silence between them was heavy — filled with everything neither wanted to say.
Finally, she took a deep breath.
> “Maybe this is the universe’s way of reminding us… we were never meant to last.”
He looked like she’d struck him. “Don’t say that.”
> “It’s true. Every time we try again, something breaks. Maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”
Damien’s voice was rough. “So you’re just walking away? Again?”
Lana’s throat tightened. “No, Damien. I’m finally letting go.”
She turned, walking toward the elevator before he could see her tears.
As the doors closed between them, he whispered to the empty room,
> “Then what do I do with everything I still feel for you?”
---
That night, Lana stood by her window, looking out over the Paris skyline.
Some loves don’t end with goodbyes — they end in silence.
And as she pressed her palm to the glass, she whispered to the stars,
> “If he ever truly loved me… he’ll let me go.”
---
🌹 Chapter Twenty: The Truth Comes Out
It had been three days.
Three long, empty days since Lana walked away.
Three days since Damien had heard her voice.
The office felt colder now — quieter.
Even Camille noticed.
> “You’re distracted,” she said one morning, leaning against his doorway.
He didn’t look up from his papers. “I’m busy.”
She smirked. “You mean miserable. You haven’t smiled since she left.”
He shot her a sharp look. “Watch your words, Camille.”
> “Relax, boss. I’m just saying… maybe she wasn’t worth all this drama.”
That did it. He stood, voice low but firm.
> “Don’t ever speak about Lana like that.”
Camille’s smirk faltered. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
---
That evening, Camille lingered behind long after everyone left. She stared at her reflection in the dark office window, guilt twisting in her chest.
She hadn’t meant for things to go this far.
The photo, the rumor — it had started as a petty attempt to make him notice her.
But seeing what it had done to him… to them... it didn’t feel like a victory anymore.
She picked up her phone, hesitating only a moment before pressing “call.”
---
Across the city, Lana’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She ignored it at first, until a message came through:
> “You need to know the truth. Meet me — Café Montrose, 8 p.m. It’s about Damien.”
Her heart pounded. For a long minute, she debated deleting it. But something in her gut — that small, stubborn voice of love — told her to go.
---
The café was nearly empty when she arrived. Camille was already there, hands clasped nervously around a coffee cup.
Lana stopped at the table, wary. “You asked me to come. Talk.”
Camille looked up, guilt shadowing her eyes.
> “You think Damien and I… were together. We weren’t.”
Lana folded her arms. “The photos say otherwise.”
> “Those photos were my fault,” Camille admitted quietly. “I leaked them. I wanted people to believe something was happening between us. I thought if he saw the rumors, maybe he’d… look at me the way he looked at you.”
Lana blinked, shocked. “You what?”
Camille nodded, tears in her eyes now. “But he never did. He never looked at anyone that way. Even when I was right beside him, his mind was somewhere else — with you.”
Lana sank slowly into the chair across from her. “He didn’t defend himself. He just let me believe it.”
> “Because he didn’t want to drag your name into more headlines,” Camille said softly. “He told the board to keep your name out of every article. He said… he’d rather take the blame than let you be hurt again.”
Lana’s throat tightened. “He did that?”
Camille nodded. “He loves you, Lana. Even I could see it. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
---
By the time Lana left the café, rain had started to fall — light, steady, familiar.
She walked through the streets, tears blending with raindrops.
He had protected her. Even when she doubted him.
Even when she walked away.
And suddenly, all the anger she’d been holding onto slipped away, replaced by one aching truth:
She still loved him.
---
That night, she stood outside his office building, soaked to the skin.
Security guards tried to stop her, but one look at her face and they let her through.
When Damien looked up from his desk and saw her standing there, drenched and trembling, he froze.
> “Lana…”
She took a step forward, her voice breaking. “You let me think you moved on.”
He rose slowly. “Because I wanted to protect you.”
> “From what?”
“From the world,” he said softly. “And maybe… from me.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “You really are impossible.”
> “So are you,” he said, smiling faintly.
She took another step, closer now, tears mixing with the rain dripping from her hair.
> “Next time,” she whispered, “don’t protect me from love. Just let me choose it.”
He hesitated — then brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek, his hand trembling slightly.
> “So what do you choose now?”
She looked up at him through the blur of tears and rain.
> “You,” she whispered. “I still choose you.”
And this time, when he leaned in — there was no interruption, no doubt, no fear.
Just a kiss soft enough to heal every storm they’d ever survived.
---
- Writer
