his bride, my obsession

His care

Damien's pov

It had been three days since I last saw her.

Three days since that night in the hallway when her voice trembled, and I told myself to forget the way she looked at me.

But forgetting Elena was impossible.

She was everywhere in this house - in the sound of her quiet footsteps on the stairs, in the faint scent of her perfume that lingered in the hallway, in the way her soft laughter had vanished completely.

Aaron's tone toward her had grown sharper each day, his patience thinner. He'd stop her mid-sentence, correct her in front of the staff, talk to her like she was an inconvenience. I tried to ignore it. I tried to tell myself it wasn't my place.

But tonight, it was impossible to look away.

Dinner had barely begun when Aaron snapped again.

"I told you not to put salt in it," he said coldly, pushing his plate away.

Elena's hands stilled. "I'm sorry. I thought-"

"That's the problem," he cut in. "You always think, but you never listen."

The words hit her like a slap. I could see the slight quiver in her fingers as she lowered her gaze, the way she bit the inside of her cheek to stop her voice from breaking.

Something twisted inside me.

I gripped my fork tighter, forcing myself to stay silent. Arguing with Aaron would only make things worse for her. But watching him tear into her so carelessly made my chest ache in a way I couldn't describe.

After dinner, Elena excused herself quietly and left the room. Aaron didn't even notice.

I did.

I waited a few seconds before getting up and following the faint sound of her steps down the dim hallway. She was standing by one of the tall windows, her hand pressed to the glass, looking out into the night.

Her reflection looked pale in the faint moonlight, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

"Elena," I said softly.

She startled a little, turning to face me. "Damien," she breathed, wiping quickly at her eyes. "I'm fine."

Her voice cracked on the last word.

"No, you're not," I said quietly.

She shook her head, her hair falling forward. "Please, not tonight. I just... need a moment."

The instinct to leave her alone battled with the urge to protect her.

But the tears in her eyes made the decision for me.

"Come with me," I said, nodding toward my room. "No one will bother you there. Just for a few minutes."

She hesitated, looking down the hallway as if expecting Aaron to appear. "I shouldn't."

"I'll keep the door open," I promised softly. "Just... you look like you could use a quiet place."

For a moment, I thought she'd refuse. Then she nodded slowly.

I stepped back to let her pass, and she moved past me, her shawl brushing lightly against my arm - a fleeting touch that sent a shiver straight through me.

Inside, the room was dim. The only light came from the desk lamp near the window. She stood by it, her back to me, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

"You shouldn't have followed me," she said quietly.

"I know," I admitted. "But I couldn't just watch you walk away like that."

Her shoulders tensed. "You make it sound like I'm some... fragile thing."

I took a slow step closer. "You're not. You're strong - stronger than he realizes. But everyone breaks when they're treated like they don't matter."

She turned slightly, her eyes glimmering in the faint light. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it makes it harder," she whispered.

Her words hit something deep inside me. Harder for her. Harder for me. Harder to keep pretending that I didn't notice her every move.

I moved closer - close enough that I could see the faint rise and fall of her breath. "Elena," I said quietly, "you deserve to be seen. You deserve to be loved."

Her eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The air between us felt too thin, too charged.

"Don't," she said finally, her voice trembling. "You don't mean that."

"I do."

She took a step back, but her hand brushed the desk behind her, and she stopped. "Damien, you can't-"

"I know," I cut in gently. "Trust me, I know. But knowing doesn't make it any easier."

Her lips parted as if to reply, but no words came. Only silence - the kind of silence where every breath, every heartbeat feels deafening.

I reached out slowly, hesitant, my fingers stopping just short of hers where they rested on the desk. "Tell me to stop," I whispered.

She didn't move.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, filled with a thousand emotions - fear, confusion, longing.

And that was enough to undo me.

I didn't touch her. I couldn't. But I let the truth slip through my voice instead. "You don't deserve the way he treats you, Elena. And if I could take that pain away, I would."

A tear rolled down her cheek, catching the soft light.

"Damien..."

Her voice broke, and that sound - that fragile, aching sound - felt like it shattered something inside me.

I wanted to pull her into my arms, to promise her peace, warmth, anything she'd been denied. But all I did was step a little closer and whisper, "You're not alone."

For a moment, she looked at me like she almost believed it. Then she pulled away, brushing past me toward the door.

"I can't," she said, her voice barely steady. "Please... don't make me choose between right and wrong."

She didn't look back as she left, her soft footsteps fading into the hall.

I stood there in the dim light, my pulse racing, the ghost of her presence still lingering in the air.

And I knew, no matter how much I tried to deny it, I was already too far gone.