Chapter 72
1389 Words
CHAPTER 72
DAMIAN
We finally got out of bed.
Angela picked up her clothes from the chair and disappeared behind the bathroom door to change. I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, then waited for her in the hallway.
When she stepped out, she looked at me.
“Where can I take my bath?”
I pointed toward the hallway.
“Second door on the left.”
She looked in the direction I pointed, then back at me.
“You're sure?”
“Very sure.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because you're asking me where my bathroom is like you're a guest in a hotel.”
“I've never stayed here overnight before.”
“And whose fault is that?”
She gave me a look.
“Don't start.”
I laughed.
“Fine. Go.”
She started walking away.
“Wait.”
She turned.
“You forgot something.”
“What?”
I walked toward her and kissed her forehead.
“Good morning.”
She stared at me.
“You already said that.”
“I know.”
“You're becoming repetitive.”
“I don't mind.”
She shook her head and walked into the bathroom.
I smiled to myself.
Something about seeing her move around my house this morning felt different.
Not because she was suddenly mine.
She had always been free to leave.
But because she was still here.
By choice.
I went downstairs and started preparing breakfast.
A few minutes later, Angela joined me.
She had changed into one of my T-shirts, which fell loosely over her body. Her hair was tied loosely behind her, and she looked comfortable in my clothes.
She looked around the kitchen.
“What are you making?”
“Breakfast.”
“I can help.”
“You?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. Me.”
I smiled.
“Are you sure? I don't want to risk your reputation after yesterday's cooking.”
She reached for a spoon.
“You're still talking about that?”
“I'll talk about it until I recover.”
She lightly hit my arm with the spoon.
“Ouch.”
“You're not hurt.”
“I might be.”
“Then sit down.”
“No.”
She moved beside me and started cutting vegetables.
I watched her for a moment.
“You're cutting those too big.”
She stopped.
“Then you do it.”
“No, no. You're doing wonderfully.”
She looked at me suspiciously.
“You're mocking me.”
“Never.”
She picked up another piece.
“Like this?”
“Perfect.”
“Liar.”
I laughed.
She tried to hide her smile.
We worked together for a while.
Then I reached over and took the knife from her.
“Let me.”
“I can do it.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you taking it?”
“Because you're going to take twenty minutes.”
She folded her arms.
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
She stared at me.
I stared back.
Then she burst out laughing.
I couldn't help myself.
I laughed too.
It was ridiculous.
Two grown adults arguing over how fast someone could cut vegetables.
But somehow, I didn't want it to stop.
Angela picked up a piece of vegetable and threw it at me.
It hit my shirt.
I looked down.
Then slowly looked back at her.
“You didn't.”
She smiled innocently.
“I did.”
I picked up another piece.
“Damian.”
I threw it.
She dodged.
“You missed.”
“Oh, did I?”
She grabbed another one.
“Don't.”
She threw it.
This time, it hit my shoulder.
I laughed.
“You've officially declared war.”
“You started it.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
Before I knew it, we were throwing pieces of vegetables at each other like children.
She laughed so hard she had to hold the counter.
I couldn't remember the last time I had laughed like that in my own kitchen.
Eventually, I caught her hand when she tried to escape.
“Enough.”
She was still laughing.
“You started it.”
“And you finished it.”
“I won.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
I pulled her closer.
She looked up at me.
For a second, the laughter disappeared.
The kitchen became quiet.
I brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
“You're beautiful when you laugh.”
Her expression softened.
“You've said that before.”
“I'll keep saying it.”
She looked away.
I smiled.
Then I let her go.
“Come on. We still need to finish breakfast.”
She nodded.
We returned to cooking.
And as I watched her standing beside me, stealing little pieces of food from the plate, I realized something.
This was what I wanted.
Not the expensive cars.
Not the boardrooms.
Not the people standing whenever I entered a room.
Not the power.
Not even the money.
I wanted this.
A woman beside me in my kitchen.
Someone stealing food before breakfast was ready.
Someone laughing at me.
Someone arguing over vegetables.
Someone who could walk into my home without asking permission.
I wanted mornings that weren't scheduled.
Evenings without meetings.
Weekends where the biggest decision was where we would eat.
I wanted to come home and find her there.
I wanted a life that felt lived rather than managed.
And I wanted it with her.
I looked at Angela.
She was concentrating on the food, completely unaware of where my thoughts had gone.
“Angela.”
She looked at me.
“Yes?”
“I want this.”
She frowned slightly.
“This?”
I nodded.
“This.”
She looked around the kitchen.
“Cooking?”
I laughed softly.
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“This kind of life.”
She became quiet.
“I want my life to look like this someday,” I continued. “Not perfect. Not quiet all the time. Just... real.”
She watched me carefully.
“I want to wake up beside the woman I love. I want breakfast arguments. I want someone stealing my food. I want someone complaining that I tease too much.”
“You do tease too much.”
“I know.”
She smiled faintly.
I continued.
“I want to come home after a terrible day and have someone waiting for me. I want to know that when everything outside gets loud, I have somewhere that feels like peace.”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
“And I want it forever.”
The word hung between us.
Forever.
Angela didn't answer immediately.
I didn't expect her to.
I wasn't asking her for a promise.
I was telling her the truth.
She lowered her eyes to the counter.
“That sounds nice.”
“It does.”
She nodded.
“I'd like that too.”
Something warm moved through my chest.
“Yeah?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“Then maybe we're not as different as I thought.”
She gave me a small smile.
“Maybe.”
I reached for her hand.
She let me take it.
I kissed her fingers.
“I don't need everything to happen today.”
She looked at me.
“I just want to keep having mornings like this.”
She squeezed my hand.
“Then stop burning the food.”
I glanced toward the stove.
My eyes widened.
“Damn.”
She laughed.
I rushed toward the stove while she stood behind me laughing.
“Angela!”
“What?”
“You distracted me.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“You were talking.”
“You were talking too.”
I shook my head, smiling.
She came beside me and helped me rescue breakfast.
And as we stood there together, laughing over something as ordinary as burnt food, I found myself thinking about that word again.
Forever.
For the first time, it didn't sound like a distant dream.
It sounded like something I could actually have.
If she chose it with me.
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