The Life we never Planned

Chapter 57

Chapter 57

DAMIAN’S POV

The past two weeks with Angela had been strange.

Not bad.

Just… different.

Some days, she was the woman I had started getting used to.

The woman who laughed at my jokes even when they weren't funny.

The woman who argued with me over food.

The woman who would steal fries from my plate and then look at me innocently when I caught her.

The woman who could sit beside me for hours without saying much, yet somehow make the silence feel comfortable.

And then there were the other days.

Days when she acted like she owed me something.

Those were the days I didn't understand.

I noticed it for the first time a few days after the court incident.

We had gone out for lunch, and Angela had been unusually quiet.

I ordered her usual meal.

She immediately frowned.

"You didn't have to."

I looked at her.

"I know."

"You could have asked me what I wanted."

"I know what you want."

She stared at me for a moment before looking away.

"Still."

That one word stayed with me.

Still.

As if me remembering what she liked was some kind of favor she had to repay.

I ignored it that day.

Then it happened again.

And again.

Sometimes she would reach for her purse whenever I paid for something.

"I can pay."

"I know."

"Damian."

"Angela."

She would sigh.

And I would tell her to stop worrying about it.

But she didn't stop.

It wasn't about the money.

I knew that.

Angela wasn't greedy. If anything, she was the opposite.

She was too careful.

Too conscious of what she accepted from people.

And lately, she had started looking at me like every nice thing I did came with a price I hadn't told her about.

That bothered me.

A lot.

Because I had never asked her to repay me for anything.

Not dinner.

Not the protection.

Not the way I had handled the situation with the company.

Nothing.

I wanted her.

Not her money.

Not her gratitude.

Not some obligation she felt she had toward me.

Her.

But Angela seemed determined to keep a mental account of every little thing I did.

And I didn't know why.

Then there were the good days.

Those days almost made me forget about everything else.

Yesterday was one of them.

She had come to my office around noon.

No appointment.

No warning.

She simply walked into my office, dropped a paper bag on my desk and said, "I brought you food."

I looked at the bag.

Then at her.

"You brought me food?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you always order expensive food."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"And I decided to save you from yourself."

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

She smiled proudly.

"See? I knew I could make you laugh."

"You came into my office just to insult my food choices?"

"No. I came because I missed you."

She said it so casually that I almost forgot how to breathe.

Almost.

I leaned back in my chair.

"Say that again."

She immediately shook her head.

"No."

"Angela."

"I said what I said."

"You missed me."

"I brought food."

"That's not an answer."

She smiled.

"Eat your food, Damian."

That was the Angela I liked.

The real one.

Relaxed.

Playful.

Unaware of how much power she had over my mood.

But today?

Today she was different again.

She sat across from me in my office, her hands folded neatly on her lap.

Too neatly.

I watched her for several seconds.

She avoided my eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You've said that three times this week."

"I'm fine."

I leaned forward.

"You're terrible at lying."

She finally looked at me.

"I'm not lying."

"You are."

She sighed.

"Damian, can we not do this?"

"Do what?"

"Talk about everything."

I studied her.

There it was again.

That wall.

She had started putting it up whenever things got too close to whatever was happening inside her head.

I didn't like the wall.

But I had learned that pushing Angela too hard only made her retreat further.

So I sat back.

"Fine."

She looked surprised.

"Fine?"

"Yes."

"You aren't going to argue?"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes.

"That's suspicious."

I smiled.

"You wanted me to leave it alone."

"I did."

"So I'm leaving it alone."

She stared at me.

Then, slowly, she smiled.

"You've changed."

"I've always been reasonable."

She laughed.

"No, you haven't."

I smiled.

"Careful."

"See? That's exactly what I mean."

"What?"

"That."

She pointed at me.

"You always act like you're some terrifying man."

"I am."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're ridiculous."

"And yet you're still sitting in my office."

She smiled again.

And for a moment, everything felt normal.

Then her eyes dropped to the expensive watch on my wrist.

She became quiet.

I noticed.

She always thought I didn't notice things.

She was wrong.

I noticed everything about her.

The way she played with her fingers when nervous.

The way she looked away whenever she was hiding something.

The way her shoulders relaxed whenever she laughed.

And the way she became uncomfortable whenever I spent money on her.

I leaned forward.

"Angela."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you owe me something?"

Her face changed immediately.

It was subtle.

But I saw it.

She swallowed.

"No."

"Then why do you act like you do?"

Silence.

She looked down at her hands.

"I don't."

"You do."

She didn't answer.

I waited.

Finally, she whispered, "You've done a lot for me."

"And?"

"And I don't want you thinking I'm taking advantage of you."

I stared at her.

"Is that what you think this is?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

She looked at me.

"I don't know."

That answer bothered me more than anything else.

Because Angela always had an answer.

Even when she was angry.

Even when she was scared.

Even when she didn't want to tell me the truth.

She always had something to say.

But now she had nothing.

I stood and walked around the desk.

She watched me approach.

I stopped in front of her.

"Look at me."

She did.

"You don't owe me anything."

Her lips parted slightly.

"I mean it."

"Damian—"

"No."

I shook my head.

"If I take you to dinner, you don't owe me dinner."

She remained silent.

"If I buy you something, you don't owe me anything in return."

Her eyes softened.

"If I protect you, you don't owe me your gratitude."

She looked down.

I gently lifted her chin.

"And if you're with me, Angela, I don't want you wondering what you have to give me."

She swallowed.

"What do you want then?"

The question was quiet.

Simple.

But it hit harder than it should have.

I looked into her eyes.

"You."

She didn't move.

"I want you to be yourself with me."

Her eyes flickered.

"Even when you're difficult."

She almost smiled.

"Especially then."

A small laugh escaped her.

I smiled.

"That's better."

She shook her head.

"You're impossible."

"And you're trouble."

She smiled.

There.

That smile.

The one that made me forget every question I had.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead.

For a few seconds, she relaxed against me.

And I let myself enjoy it.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, one thought remained.

Angela was hiding something.

I didn't know what.

I didn't know how serious it was.

And I didn't know whether it had anything to do with the way she sometimes looked at me like she was afraid of owing me more than money.

But I knew one thing.

I wasn't going to force her to tell me.

Not yet.

Because whatever it was, Angela would tell me when she was ready.

Or so I thought.

I had no idea that the truth she was hiding had nothing to do with owing me.

It had everything to do with why she had chosen me in the first place.