The Life we never Planned

Chapter 68

CHAPTER 68

DAMIAN’S POV

Six months.

That was how long Angela and I had been together.

Six months of dinners that somehow turned into late conversations.

Six months of weekend drives with no particular destination.

Six months of her walking into my office without announcing herself because she had finally stopped treating my secretary like a security checkpoint.

Six months of her sitting beside me at events, quietly observing everything while I handled business.

Six months of her laughing at things I said when she thought I wasn't looking.

Six months of knowing her.

And somehow, I still felt like there was a door between us.

A door she had never locked.

But she had never opened either.

That afternoon, I stood outside her apartment waiting for her.

When she finally came downstairs, she was wearing jeans, a white top, sneakers, and a light jacket.

Nothing complicated.

Nothing dramatic.

She opened the passenger door.

"Good afternoon."

I looked at her.

"That's all I get?"

She smiled faintly.

"What were you expecting?"

"At least a hug."

She looked at me for a second before leaning over and giving me a brief hug.

"There."

I laughed.

"That was clearly forced."

"It wasn't."

"It lasted two seconds."

"Would you like me to start again?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, smiling.

"You are becoming demanding."

"And you are becoming stingy with affection."

She closed the door.

"I'll remember that."

I started the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Amusement park."

She turned toward me.

"The amusement park?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I've decided you need to have fun."

"I have fun."

"When?"

She thought for a moment.

"Last Saturday."

"You were working."

"I enjoyed it."

I glanced at her.

She was serious.

I laughed.

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

The amusement park was crowded when we arrived.

Angela looked around, taking everything in.

She didn't look childish or overly excited.

She simply looked interested.

I liked that about her.

We walked through the park together.

She insisted on trying the games herself instead of letting me win things for her.

At one booth, I watched her throw three rings and miss every single one.

She looked at the bottles.

Then at the man running the booth.

Then at me.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm smiling."

"That's worse."

I laughed.

She picked up another ring.

This time, she won.

She turned toward me with a small, satisfied smile.

"I told you."

"I never doubted you."

"You were laughing."

"Quietly."

She shook her head.

We spent hours there.

We rode the Ferris wheel.

She sat beside me, looking out over the lights below.

We ate too much food.

She complained about the popcorn being too sweet.

I told her she had eaten half the container.

She told me that wasn't relevant.

For a few hours, there was no business.

No courtrooms.

No threats.

No expectations.

Just us.

And yet, even there, I noticed it.

The distance.

She was comfortable with me.

She trusted me.

She touched me.

She kissed me.

She came to my house.

She had met people in my world and stood beside me without fear.

But she always left.

That was the part that bothered me.

She had been to my house countless times.

She had dinner there.

Watched movies there.

Sat in my office while I worked.

Fallen asleep on my sofa once.

But she had never stayed the night.

Not once.

And she had never asked me to stay at hers.

I hadn't complained.

I wasn't going to pressure her.

But I was a man.

I noticed things.

I noticed how she looked at me sometimes.

The way her eyes lingered.

The way she became quiet when I touched her waist.

The way she sometimes rested her head against my shoulder before suddenly sitting upright again.

She saw me.

I knew she did.

But I wasn't sure she saw me the way I saw her.

As a man.

As the man she wanted.

That uncertainty had been bothering me for months.

We left the amusement park after sunset.

In the car, Angela leaned her head against the window.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"Today."

I glanced at her.

"You enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She looked at me.

"You should do this more often."

"Take you to amusement parks?"

"No."

She smiled.

"Take me somewhere without a schedule."

I smiled.

"I can do that."

The drive to my house was quiet.

When we arrived, she followed me inside.

We had done this so many times that it no longer felt unusual.

She took off her shoes and walked into the living room.

I watched her.

She was comfortable here.

Too comfortable to be a guest.

Not comfortable enough to stay.

She noticed me staring.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

"You're thinking."

"I usually am."

"About?"

I walked closer.

"You."

Her expression remained calm.

"That's becoming a habit."

"Maybe."

I stopped in front of her.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

I wanted to ask her.

Why did you always leave?

Why had she never once stayed?

Why had she never looked at me and said she wanted more?

But I didn't want to turn something beautiful into an interrogation.

So instead, I reached for her hand.

She let me take it.

I kissed her forehead.

"Stay for dinner."

She looked at the clock.

"I can."

I smiled.

Dinner.

Another evening.

Another few hours with her.

And then, eventually, she would leave.

Again.

I knew it.

She knew it.

Neither of us said it.

Later that night, when she stood at the door preparing to leave, I watched her put on her shoes.

She turned toward me.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She stepped closer and kissed my cheek.

It was soft.

Brief.

Then she opened the door.

"Angela."

She stopped.

She looked back at me.

I almost asked her to stay.

Almost.

Instead, I smiled.

"Drive safely."

She nodded.

"I will."

The door closed behind her.

I stood there alone.

Six months.

I had her trust.

Her time.

Her laughter.

Her company.

Her affection.

But I still didn't know if I had her completely.

And that was beginning to scare me.

Because I didn't just want Angela to be my girlfriend.

I wanted to know she looked at me and saw a man she wanted beside her.

Not just a man she trusted.

Not just a man who protected her.

Not just a man she enjoyed spending time with.

Me.

The man.

And for the first time, I wondered whether Angela was keeping that final piece of herself from me because she wasn't ready—

or because she simply didn't want me that way.

I stared at the closed door.

I had never been afraid to ask for what I wanted.

But with Angela, asking might give me an answer I wasn't ready to hear.