MARRIED TO MY MISTAKE

Chapter 20

The office had been humming all afternoon with an almost contagious good mood. For the first time in weeks, things felt light. The tension that usually hung in the air between Rhea and Damian had softened into something neither of them could quite name.

It started with a small thing. A joke.

They had been standing near the conference room, waiting for a presentation to start, when someone from the finance team cracked a light comment about the new budget sheets being more confusing than a mystery novel. Rhea chuckled under her breath and, without meaning to, Damian did too.

Their eyes met for a second. It was quick, unplanned. But it was there. A spark.

Later that day, as Rhea walked past the break room, she noticed Damian inside. Alone. Not on his phone. Not looking busy. Just standing near the coffee machine, reading the label on a packet of sugar as if it held secrets.

She leaned against the doorway, amused.

"Are you really reading the sugar packet?"

He didn’t look up. "I like to know what I’m putting in my coffee."

"Let me guess. You’re the kind who judges people for using cream."

"Only when they put too much."

She laughed, stepping in.

Damian looked at her then, really looked. Her smile had a way of lighting up her entire face. He hadn’t noticed it before. Or maybe he had and just refused to admit it.

"So what’s your coffee philosophy, Miss Blackwell?"

"Strong, a little sweet, and always freshly brewed," she replied easily.

"Sounds like you."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Rhea blinked, surprised. He looked just as surprised with himself. But neither of them corrected it. They just stood there, letting the silence stretch until the coffee machine beeped.

Catherine walked in right then, looking between the two of them with a curious glint in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, but Rhea could almost hear her thoughts. It was obvious. Something had shifted.

That evening, the team had an informal dinner to celebrate closing a big client. Catherine had arranged it at a quiet rooftop restaurant not far from the office. She made sure everyone got the invitation, including Rhea.

Rhea hadn’t been sure at first. But something in her told her to go. Maybe it was the way Damian’s gaze had lingered on her earlier. Or maybe it was the little thrill in her chest that she refused to name.

She arrived ten minutes late, as usual. On purpose. Not too late to be rude. Just late enough to avoid the awkward small talk that came with being early.

The rooftop glowed with soft lights strung above. A gentle breeze played with the hem of her dress as she stepped out of the elevator. She spotted familiar faces around the long wooden table, already half-filled with drinks and laughter.

Then she saw him.

Damian was seated at the far end, half-turned toward the group but not quite participating. The moment he saw her, something in his expression shifted. It wasn’t a smile. Not exactly. But it wasn’t cold either.

He stood up as she approached.

"You came," he said simply.

"Of course. Catherine threatened to hunt me down if I didn’t."

That earned the tiniest twitch of his lips. "You look... different."

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

He gestured to the seat beside him. "Sit."

She did.

Dinner passed in a blur of shared appetizers and clinking glasses. The conversation bounced from work to childhood pranks to who had the worst college roommate. Rhea found herself laughing more than she expected. Damian, too, seemed more relaxed. He still didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was sharp and funny in a dry kind of way.

At one point, someone pulled out a deck of cards and challenged the group to a light game. Nothing serious. Just a silly icebreaker. The kind that involved answering odd questions or completing funny dares.

Rhea pulled a card.

"Describe your ideal date."

She raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it.

"Hmm. Someone who doesn’t talk about work, remembers my coffee order, and knows how to dance."

Damian looked at her, unreadable.

"You dance?" he asked quietly.

"Depends on who’s asking."

"I’m asking."

She tilted her head. "Do you?"

"I did. Once. I was terrible."

"Maybe you just had the wrong partner."

Their eyes locked again. The group around them had dissolved into another round of laughter, but it felt like they were in a bubble. Just the two of them.

Later, as people began to leave in small groups, Catherine passed behind Rhea with a knowing grin.

"Call me if you need a ride," she whispered.

Rhea gave her a quick glance. Catherine was too observant for her own good.

The rooftop emptied until it was just a handful of them left. Damian and Rhea stayed seated, sipping the last of their drinks in a quieter kind of silence.

"You’ve been different lately," Damian said after a long pause.

"In a good way?"

"In a way that makes me wonder if I ever really knew you at all."

Rhea didn’t answer right away. She was watching the way the lights flickered in the wine glass, the way the night sky above them was almost clear.

"Maybe you didn’t," she said softly. "Maybe you still don’t."

He leaned in, elbows on the table, eyes steady.

"I want to."

Her heart stuttered. He didn’t sound flirtatious. He sounded real. Serious.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

"Be careful, Damian. Curiosity is a dangerous thing."

He gave a small smile. "So is hiding."

They sat there, words fading. The night air cool around them. Not touching. Not yet. But close. Closer than before.

And in the quiet, something fragile but real started to form.

Not love. Not yet.

But something.