Chapter five
1349 Words
Raven could not withstand the sheer weight of everything that had collided into a single day.
The questions.
The confrontation.
Nova’s recklessness.
Her mother’s sudden arrival.
And above all—Damian.
Her body gave in before her mind could. One moment she was standing, breathing shallowly, trying to arrange lies into something that resembled the truth… and the next, darkness swallowed her whole.
She collapsed without warning.
Her mother screamed her name, rushing forward in panic, while Damian reacted a second later—catching Raven before her head could strike the floor. He hesitated only briefly before lifting her into his arms, unsure of the apartment’s layout, instinct guiding him toward the room she had entered earlier with Nova.
It felt wrong carrying her like this.
Too intimate.
Too real.
Marinette followed closely behind, her face pale with fear.
They laid Raven on the bed. Her mother immediately reached for the perfume resting on the dresser, dabbing some onto a cloth and holding it beneath Raven’s nose.
Slowly… painfully slowly… Raven stirred.
Her lashes fluttered.
Her breathing steadied.
When she finally opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was her mother’s face hovering above her—creased with worry, lips trembling.
Damian stood farther back, near the wall, arms crossed tightly, eyes fixed on her with a concern he didn’t know how to express.
“You’re okay,” Marinette whispered the moment she saw Raven conscious. “Are you okay?”
Raven nodded faintly, though her head felt heavy, her thoughts scattered.
Nova.
The memory hit her all at once.
“Where is Nova?” Raven asked hoarsely.
Damian answered before Marinette could speak, his tone clipped—almost annoyed by Raven’s concern.
“She left. You haven’t eaten anything today. I’ll order food.”
And just like that, he turned and exited the room.
Coward, she thought—though she couldn’t entirely blame him.
The silence he left behind was far more dangerous.
Marinette’s gaze lingered on Raven, sharp and searching. She had been patient so far—but patience had limits.
She glanced around the room slowly, her eyes narrowing as they took in the pastel décor, the soft pink walls, the delicate curtains.
“…Why is this room pink?” she asked carefully. “It looks like a single girl’s bedroom.”
There was no escape now.
Raven bit her lower lip, her heart pounding.
The plan—the fragile, barely-held-together plan—was beginning to crack.
“It’s… a spare room,” she said quickly. “We sleep in the other one.”
Marinette frowned. She didn’t look convinced.
“Then why did he bring you here instead of your room?”
A trap.
Perfectly laid.
Before Raven could answer, Damian appeared at the doorway—gesturing frantically with his hands while Marinette’s back was turned. His expressions were strange, urgent, almost comical.
Raven stared at him blankly, shaking her head in confusion.
“What is it?” Marinette asked sharply, turning back.
Raven reacted on instinct.
“Mom—I’m hungry,” she blurted. “Can we eat first? We’ll talk later.”
Damian stepped in smoothly, his voice calm, grounding.
“I’ve already ordered food. Raven, could you help me set the table?”
He saved her.
Truly saved her.
She stood immediately and followed him out of the room, careful not to raise further suspicion—especially after fainting just moments earlier.
As they walked side by side, she leaned closer and whispered:
“I owe you.”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
“And it’s time to repay it.”
She stopped in the living room, waiting for an explanation. Damian stepped closer, lowering his voice as he noticed Marinette approaching.
“I asked a friend to bring my clothes,” he murmured. “We need a solution—fast—before everything falls apart.”
Before she could respond, Marinette’s voice rang out behind them, misinterpreting the moment entirely.
“Dinner time, you two. Save the romance for later.”
Raven fled to the kitchen.
Damian followed.
He stopped the moment he stepped inside, eyes scanning the unfamiliar space with visible discomfort. He had never been in a kitchen like this—not really. In his world, things simply appeared when needed.
Raven handed him plates and cutlery.
He stared at them as though she’d given him alien tools.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Put them on the table.”
He looked at her helplessly. Completely, genuinely helpless.
“…How?”
She blinked. Surely he was joking.
But his expression was serious.
“I’m used to restaurants,” he admitted quietly.
She sighed, mildly irritated, and walked past him.
“Follow me, Mr. Absolutely-Useless.”
He grimaced at her tone—but followed without protest.
If she had known the truth about his life, she would never have mocked him.
She showed him everything. Slowly. Patiently.
And as he watched her—moving through the kitchen with casual grace, sleeves rolled, hair loosely tied—something shifted inside him.
For the first time… this strange marriage didn’t feel entirely fake.
The doorbell rang shortly after they finished eating.
Damian stiffened.
His clothes.
Raven caught his look instantly. The burden was hers now.
She inhaled deeply and turned to her mother.
“Mom, help me with the dishes?”
Marinette’s eyes flicked to Damian.
“Doesn’t your husband help with housework?”
Damian pinched the bridge of his nose, silently counting to five.
This woman… missed nothing.
He smiled politely.
“It’s a moment between mother and daughter. I’d rather not intrude.”
He excused himself lightly and moved to answer the door—quickly grabbing the bag and turning back.
Too late.
Marinette stood directly in front of him.
Her gaze dropped to the bag in his hand.
“What’s that?”
Everything froze.
A simple question.
A devastating one.
Damian placed the bag down slowly, adopting an embarrassed expression.
“I was planning a surprise for Raven,” he said softly. “But—”
Raven emerged from the kitchen.
She took in the scene instantly. Her heart skipped.
Marinette sighed sharply.
“This place feels chaotic,” she muttered.
She grabbed Raven’s arm and pulled her back into the kitchen, leaving Damian to escape with the truth still intact.
The kitchen door shut.
Marinette turned slowly, suspicion burning in her eyes.
“What is going on?” she demanded. “Something isn’t right.”
Raven sank into a chair, exhaustion finally breaking her.
“What’s wrong with him accepting me?” she whispered.
“This is the first time someone chose me. Others always ran away.”
Marinette softened.
She knew.
The bullying.
The isolation.
Being pure in a world that mocked purity.
“I’m just scared for you,” she said gently. “If he truly loves you… then why does he feel so distant?”
Raven wiped her tears.
“He just doesn’t know you yet,” she said firmly.
“He’s kind. He tries. He stays.”
Silence followed.
Marinette wasn’t convinced—but she didn’t press further.
That night, Damian claimed the neutral room. He hid Nova’s traces quickly, refusing to open the closet.
Instead, he slept on the floor beside the bed.
Raven watched him quietly.
“You can use the couch,” she said.
“I’ve camped before,” he replied. “I don’t want you uncomfortable.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re decent—but not convincing. Try harder. I don’t want my mom calling Jerry.”
“Jerry?”
“The cat?”
“No. A man.”
He sighed.
“I’ll make coffee. Hot chocolate for you. We’ll talk on the balcony.”
“What if my mom finds out?”
He smiled lazily.
“I’m responsible for you now, little one.”
She threw a pillow at him.
He caught it—and pushed her back onto the bed.
“Sleep.”
She hid under the blanket, breathless.
He turned away, muttering:
“Crazy woman.”
To be continued…
- Writer
