When Pretend Becomes Real
595 Words
Chapter 14: When Pretend Becomes Real
The headlines didn’t stop.
They never did.
But for once, Leila didn’t care.
Because for the first time since this all began, Damian had told her something real.
No cameras.
No scripts.
Just truth.
And now, she needed space — not to run, but to breathe.
So when he appeared at her door that afternoon, holding two travel bags and an oddly hopeful expression, she blinked.
“Pack a change of clothes,” he said. “We’re leaving.”
She raised a brow. “Where?”
“Somewhere with no cameras, no Cole family spies, and absolutely no signal.”
Leila hesitated. “That’s not a real place.”
He smirked. “It is if you own a beach house two hours away and threaten the staff to take the weekend off.”
She folded her arms. “Is this your idea of a romantic getaway?”
His smile faded into something gentler. “It’s not about romance, Leila. It’s about you. Me. Time to think. Time to just… be.”
Her heart fluttered at how sincere he sounded.
She nodded.
The drive to the coast was quiet, but not awkward. For once, the silence felt like comfort.
The house sat tucked against a stretch of private beach, waves crashing softly just beyond the deck. It was nothing like the cold, pristine mansion they’d left behind — this place felt like it had history. Like someone actually lived here.
Inside, it smelled of cedarwood and ocean air. The walls were lined with old records and vintage photographs. Damian led her to the guest room and dropped her bag on the bed.
“I’ll start the fire,” he said. “You can change.”
She watched him disappear down the hall, her heart aching in a way that surprised her.
Later, they sat across from each other on the floor in front of the fireplace, eating instant noodles like university kids instead of billionaires and fake heiresses.
Leila laughed mid-bite. “This is the most normal I’ve felt in weeks.”
Damian looked at her, something soft and unreadable in his eyes. “You should feel like this every day.”
She lowered her chopsticks. “So should you.”
He tilted his head. “You think I’m not normal?”
“I think…” she paused, trying to choose her words, “I think you’ve been pretending to be someone your father would approve of for so long, you forgot how to be someone you could live with.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Honest.
Damian leaned back on his hands. “You know what scares me?”
Leila met his eyes.
“That this is the only time I’ve felt like myself in years. Sitting here. With you. And when we go back… I’ll lose that again.”
Her breath caught.
“We don’t have to go back right away,” she whispered.
He blinked. “No?”
“No.” She shifted closer. “Just for tonight… let’s forget who we’re supposed to be. And just be who we are.”
Damian reached out slowly, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered.
“Who are we?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” she said, heart thudding. “But I think we’re about to find out.”
He kissed her — gently, reverently, like a question he was afraid to ask but desperate to know the answer to.
And she kissed him back like a woman who already knew it.
- Writer
