DAIKI POV
Damon stepped into the house, the echo of his polished shoes against the marble floor carrying a restless rhythm. The sound faded abruptly as he bent down near the door, brushing specks of dust off his sleek black shoes and muttering something under his breath. I stood quietly by the hallway, observing him as he kicked off the shoes and slid into his usual dark flip-flops.
It was rare to see Damon looking anything but composed. Tonight, though, his normally pristine appearance was disrupted—a faint wrinkle in his shirt, his tie loosened and hanging carelessly around his neck. His hair, typically styled to perfection, was slightly disheveled, and there was a tension in his shoulders that made him seem heavier than usual, Luke he was carrying the weight of the world on his back.
