Chapter 21: Damian
1254 Words
People assumed travelling was glamorous.
Private jets.
Five-star hotels.
Boardrooms overlooking city skylines.
Luxury.
Comfort.
Prestige.
Damien knew better.
Travelling simply meant sleeping in unfamiliar beds…
Eating food that wasn’t made by Skylar…
And counting the days until he could go home.
⸻
One week.
He had already been away for one week.
One more remained.
He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his hotel suite, the lights of another country glittering beneath him.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Nothing about the city felt like home.
Home wasn’t a place anymore.
It was a person.
His phone buzzed.
A security report.
Estate secure.
Master Sky departed for the café at 7:42 a.m.
Returned safely at 6:11 p.m.
No incidents to report.
Damien read every line.
Twice.
Only then did he put the phone down.
⸻
He still remembered the morning he’d left.
Almost too vividly.
Skylar had walked downstairs carrying his coffee…
Then stopped halfway.
“…Damien?”
His eyes slowly travelled across the entrance hall.
One guard.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
Fifteen.
More stationed outside.
The poor man looked completely overwhelmed.
“…Why are there so many people?”
Damien calmly folded the newspaper he’d been reading.
“They’re here for you.”
Skylar blinked.
“…For me?”
“Yes.”
“I thought the usual guards outside were enough.”
“They’re not.”
Skylar placed the coffee down before walking closer.
“But… fourteen guards inside the house?”
“Twenty.”
Skylar stared.
“…Twenty?”
Damien nodded.
“I’ll be outside the country.”
“Damien…”
There was that soft voice again.
The one that always tried reasoning with him.
“I’ll only be going to the café and coming home.”
“I know.”
“I’ll have Andy.”
“I know.”
“There are already guards outside.”
“I know.”
Skylar sighed dramatically.
“Then why do I suddenly have an army living with me?”
Damien almost smiled.
“Because I won’t be here.”
Silence.
Skylar looked at him for several seconds.
Then quietly said,
“…It feels like too much.”
Damien stood.
Walked towards him.
His expression softened.
“It probably does.”
“I don’t like feeling surrounded.”
“I know.”
“But…”
Skylar hesitated.
“…Can’t we reduce them?”
Damien gently shook his head.
“No.”
The word wasn’t harsh.
It was simply final.
“I’ll be gone for two weeks.”
His voice lowered.
“I cannot take risks where you’re concerned.”
Skylar looked down.
“I’ll worry every minute I’m away.”
Another pause.
“So let me worry.”
“You…”
Skylar sighed again.
“…You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
A tiny smile tugged at Skylar’s lips.
“…Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“But after you come back…”
“We’ll discuss it.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise.”
Skylar nodded reluctantly.
He wasn’t happy.
But he understood.
And somehow…
That mattered.
⸻
The hotel room felt unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Damien sat on the edge of the bed, opening the photo Skylar had accidentally sent him three days earlier.
It had been meant for Marta.
A tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls.
Instead…
Skylar had sent it to Damien.
Sky: Oops.
Sky: Wrong person.
Damien: I’ll forgive you if one of those is waiting when I get home.
Sky: Only one?
Damien: Maybe six.
Sky: Greedy.
He smiled.
Then realised he was smiling at his phone.
Again.
His assistant noticed.
Again.
“You miss him.”
Damien didn’t even bother denying it this time.
“…Very much.”
⸻
The business meetings were endless.
Morning.
Afternoon.
Evening.
Negotiations.
Contracts.
Investments.
Every break…
He called.
“Hello, Sky.”
“Hi.”
“Have you eaten?”
“I have.”
“What did you make today?”
Skylar immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation.
“A lavender and honey tart.”
“Oh?”
“And I finally perfected the lemon cream.”
“You’ve been trying for weeks.”
“I know!”
Damien smiled without realising it.
“I’m proud of you.”
There would always be a tiny silence afterwards.
Then…
“…Thank you.”
Those conversations became the highlight of every day.
Sometimes they lasted five minutes.
Sometimes fifty.
Neither of them seemed eager to hang up anymore.
⸻
Three nights earlier…
His phone had rung at exactly 2:07 a.m.
Damien frowned at the unfamiliar hour before answering immediately.
“…Sky?”
There was silence.
“…Damien?”
His voice was tiny.
Almost embarrassed.
“What’s wrong?”
“…I can’t sleep.”
His heart immediately tightened.
“Are you alright?”
“…Yes.”
“Did something happen?”
“…Not really.”
“Sky.”
Another long silence.
Then…
“…The staff were telling ghost stories after dinner.”
Damien blinked.
“…Ghost stories?”
“…Yes.”
“And now…”
Skylar cleared his throat.
“…I think every sound in the house is haunted.”
Damien stared at the ceiling.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
Softly.
Skylar immediately protested.
“Don’t laugh!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You are laughing.”
“I am.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It is a little.”
“It isn’t.”
Another tiny laugh escaped Damien.
“I apologise.”
“…You’re terrible.”
“I know.”
“So…”
Skylar whispered,
“…Can you stay on the phone?”
Damien’s expression immediately softened.
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to talk.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“…Just stay.”
“I will.”
For nearly an hour…
Neither of them spoke very much.
Damien simply listened.
The faint rustle of blankets.
Occasional sleepy sighs.
Skylar yawning.
At one point…
“…Damien?”
“Hm?”
“…You’re still there?”
“I’m still here.”
“…Good.”
Another ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Eventually…
The breathing on the other end became slow.
Steady.
Peaceful.
Skylar had fallen asleep.
Damien didn’t hang up.
He simply sat there…
Listening.
Imagining Skylar curled beneath the blankets, probably hugging a pillow the way he always did when he slept.
Safe.
Warm.
Home.
Only after another fifteen minutes did he quietly whisper,
“Sleep well, Sky.”
Then ended the call.
⸻
Now…
Another evening.
Another foreign hotel.
Another dinner eaten alone.
Damien looked at the calendar.
Seven more days.
Only seven.
He could survive seven days.
Probably.
His phone buzzed again.
A message.
Sky: Dinner wasn’t the same without you.
Damien smiled instantly.
He typed back before even thinking.
Damien: Neither was mine.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Sky: Marta says I’m becoming picky because I keep comparing everything to our dinners.
Our dinners.
Two simple words.
Yet Damien reread them three times.
Then came another message.
Sky: Come home soon.
His chest tightened so suddenly he had to set the phone down for a moment.
He had spent years building companies.
Expanding businesses.
Winning awards.
Negotiating billion-pound deals.
None of those victories had ever affected him the way three ordinary words just had.
Come home soon.
For the first time in years…
Damien realised something.
He wasn’t counting down to the end of the business trip because he missed his estate.
Or his office.
Or even his own bed.
He was counting down because someone was waiting for him.
And somehow…
That made all the difference.
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