Obsessed With My Mum's Husband

Damian Blackwell was my mother's husband. Two years ago, he had married my mother, Celeste, after a whirlwind relationship that I had never fully understood. He was thirty-eight, a successful businessman who owned Blackwell Enterprises, one of the most influential companies in the city. He was wealthy, powerful, and the kind of man people noticed the moment he walked into a room. I had only met him a handful of times before he became my stepfather. Back then, I had been twenty-one, still figuring out what I wanted from life. And Damian had always seemed like someone who belonged in a completely different world. He was older. More experienced. More controlled. He rarely spoke unnecessarily, and when he did, people listened. When my mother told me she was marrying him, I had been surprised. Not because I disliked him. I actually liked him. That was part of the problem. He had always treated me with kindness and respect, never making me feel like an outsider whenever I visited my mother. But after their wedding, everything changed. I left home shortly afterward. I told everyone I wanted to build a life of my own. I told myself I needed independence. But deep down, I knew there was another reason. Damian Blackwell made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn't explain. Not because he had ever done anything wrong. He hadn't. It was because somewhere along the way, I had started noticing him. And I hated myself for it. Now, two years after his marriage to my mother, I was standing in the same house again. And the first thing I realized was that leaving had never really solved the problem. Because Damian was still here. And somehow, seeing him again felt far more dangerous than I had imagined. I had spent two years convincing myself that distance would make everything easier. Apparently, I had been wrong. Because the moment Damian looked at me, every carefully buried feeling came rushing back. I hated that. I hated even more that a small part of me had missed him. Not the way a daughter might miss a stepfather. Not the way I missed my mother. It was different. And that difference terrified me. “Aria?” My mother's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and looked at her. She was standing beside me, smiling as though she hadn't noticed the strange tension that had settled between Damian and me. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Just tired.” “You must be exhausted after the trip.” “A little.” Mom reached for my suitcase. “Let me take this upstairs.” “I can do it.” “Nonsense. You're my daughter. Let me spoil you for once.” She grabbed the handle before I could argue. I followed her into the house, but I could feel Damian's presence behind me. I didn't look back. I couldn't. The house looked almost exactly as I remembered it. The same polished wooden floors. The same enormous chandelier hanging above the foyer. The same staircase that curved toward the second floor. But there were little changes everywhere. A new painting hung above the fireplace. The furniture had been rearranged. And there were photographs of my mother and Damian scattered around the house. I stopped when I noticed one sitting on a small table. My mother was smiling brightly, her arm wrapped around Damian's waist. He was looking at the camera, but there was a softness in his expression I'd never seen before. They looked happy. Really happy. I swallowed. “You two look good together,” I said quietly. Mom turned toward me. “We are happy.” “I can see that.” She smiled. “Damian has been wonderful to me.” I looked at her. There was so much love in her eyes that I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. “I’m glad.” She squeezed my arm. “I wish you had been here more.” “I know.” “You missed so much.” “I know, Mom.” She sighed. “But you're here now. That's what matters.” I nodded. “Yeah.” For the first time since arriving, I genuinely smiled. Maybe this could work. Maybe I could come home, spend time with my mother, and leave again without allowing anything complicated to happen. That was the plan. Simple. Safe. Until Damian walked into the room. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” he said. Mom turned toward him. “Perfect. Aria must be starving.” “I ate on the plane.” “That doesn't count.” I laughed. “Mom, I'm really not hungry.” She pointed toward the dining room. “You're eating.” I raised both hands. “Fine.” She smiled triumphantly before walking away. I remained where I was. Damian didn't. He walked past me toward the dining room. As he did, his shoulder nearly brushed mine. I instinctively stepped aside. He noticed. Of course he did. His eyes flicked toward me. “Still nervous around me?” My heart skipped. “No.” “Then why did you move?” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. He gave me a faint, almost amused smile before continuing toward the dining room. I stared after him. What was that supposed to mean? I followed a moment later. Dinner was surprisingly normal. My mother carried most of the conversation, asking about my work, my friends, and the life I'd built while I was away. I answered as casually as I could. Damian mostly listened. Occasionally, he asked a question. Short questions. Simple questions. But somehow, I noticed every single one. “So you're staying for good?” he asked eventually. I looked at him. “For now.” His expression didn't change. “Why only for now?” “I haven't decided yet.” “Running away again?” The words hit harder than they should have. My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. My mother looked at him. “Damian.” He didn't apologize. His eyes remained on me. I slowly lowered my fork. “I didn't run away.” “No?” “No.” “Then why did you leave without saying goodbye?” Silence filled the table. My mother looked between us. “I didn't know you cared.” His jaw tightened slightly. “I cared.” I stared at him. For a moment, I forgot my mother was sitting right there. The room seemed to disappear. All I could hear was the quiet pounding of my heart. Then Mom cleared her throat. “Well…” She forced a laugh. “This is certainly an emotional reunion.” I quickly looked down at my plate. “I'm just tired.” Damian leaned back in his chair. “Of course.” The rest of dinner passed quietly. Afterward, I helped my mother clear the table before she insisted I go upstairs. I was grateful for the excuse to escape. I reached my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Finally alone. I leaned against it and exhaled. Why had he asked why I left? Why did he care? I walked toward the mirror and stared at my reflection. “Get yourself together, Aria.” I had spent years building a life away from this house. I wasn't going to destroy everything because one man still knew how to make my heart race. Especially when that man was married to my mother. I changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. For a while, everything was quiet. Then my phone buzzed. A message from my mother. Mom: Sleep well, sweetheart. I'm so happy you're home. I smiled. Me: Goodnight, Mom. Love you. I put the phone aside. A few minutes later, there was another knock. I froze. Not again. The door opened sightly. Damian stood on the other side. “We need to talk.” My heart sank. “About what?” He looked at me for a long moment. “About why you really left two years ago.” I couldn't breathe. Because he knew. Or at least, he suspected. And suddenly, coming home didn't feel like a mistake anymore. It felt like the beginning of something I had spent years trying to forget.