Choice
1111 Words
After several long minutes, the meeting finally came to an end.
And chairs scraped against the floor as everyone began filing out of the conference room, eager to leave.
Elara gathered her notes and was just about to slip out when her father’s voice cut through the noise.
“Damien, wait behind I need to talk to you.”
Immediately Elara froze mid-step, her back stiffening. She didn’t look at her father, but she felt his gaze on her.
“Elara,” he called, softer this time. “I’ll meet you later.”
She forced a nod, though not without sneaking a quick glance at Damien—her eyes narrowing at him before she turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind her, but her mind lingered.
Why in the world would her father want to talk to the son of his enemy? The thought nagged at her, but she pushed it aside and moved on with the rest of her tasks.
Later, as she was busy giving instructions to some of the workers, she caught sight of Damien strolling in.
The smug grin on his face already told her he was up to no good.
Trouble, she thought immediately.
But before she could even prepare herself, Damien walked up to her and gave her a light slap on the back of her head...
“Hey,” he said casually, then slipped his arm around her neck in a mock chokehold.
Elara immediately slapped his hand away. “Ew! Damien, what is wrong with you? Get your hands off me!”
Some of the workers chuckled awkwardly at the scene, then quickly dispersed, giving them space.
Damien raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking.
“Okay, okay.
Calm down, you don’t need to bite,” he teased.
“Whatever,” Elara muttered, rolling her eyes as she turned to leave.
But before she could take a step, Damien caught her wrist again. His tone shifted, more hesitant this time. “So… um, Elara…”
She turned back sharply, impatience flickering in her eyes. “What do you want to say?”
“Calm down,” he said, his voice softer now but edged with frustration.
“Must you always turn into this frosty, nasty woman every single time I try to talk to you?”
Elara tilted her head slightly, her brow arching higher.
“And must you always find an excuse to get in my way?” she shot back, her voice sharp.
She tugged at her wrist, trying to free it from his hold, but he refused to release her.
“Let go of me, Damien. I am not in the mood for this.”
“Hold on a bit,” Damien said again and the change in his tone gave her pause.
And she stilled, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face.
His jaw was tense, his Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed before speaking again.
“Elara,” he said carefully, each word sounding like it cost him something.
“I want to ask If something happened to you… and you had no other choice but me… would you pick me?”
For a moment, silence pressed between them. Elara blinked at him, her lips parting slightly as though the question itself stunned her.
Then, suddenly, she laughed.
The sound was sharp, echoing off the walls around them.
She covered her mouth briefly, her shoulders shaking with amusement before she dropped her hand again.
“Oh my God, Damien,” she said, still laughing. “Are you actually being serious?
What kind of ridiculous question is that—‘no other choice’? Oh Please spare me your crazy jokes.”
She said as her laughter faded, her eyes narrowing as her smile hardened into a smirk.
She folded her arms across her chest, her voice growing colder with every word.
“Listen very carefully Damien, even if you were the last man on earth, the very last option I had, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—that would ever make me choose you.
Do you understand me? Nothing, and who the hell do you think you are to even ask me that?”
She said and turned sharply, ready to walk away, her heels already clicking against the floor.
But Damien’s hand tightened around her wrist again, stronger this time.
And he pulled her back, forcing her to face him.
His expression was no longer playful but his eyes burned with intensity, and when he spoke, his voice was low but unshakable.
“No, Elara,” he said, holding her gaze without flinching. “Answer me properly.
Do you mean that even if I was your very last choice… you would still never—never—pick me?”
The repetition hit her harder than she expected.
Elara froze, her breath catching in her throat. She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure.
Her brows furrowed, and she forced herself to shake her head.
“You know what, Damien?” she said finally, her voice trembling but steady enough to sound defiant.
“Enough with these stupid questions I should not even be here talking to you because what do I do If my father catches me with you, do you have any idea what will happen? Do you understand the kind of trouble you’re dragging me into right now?”
She said and yanked her wrist free with a sudden motion and stepped back, putting distance between them.
Her eyes flashed, her voice sharper than a blade as she spat out, “Please just eave me the hell alone and stay off my life because even if you were the last man alive on earth I had rather die than have anything to do with you.”
And without waiting for his reply, she spun on her heel and walked away.
Her steps were quick and deliberate, her back stiff, her chin lifted. Yet her fists remained tightly clenched at her sides, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside her chest.
But Damien did not follow instead he stood rooted in place, his hand still tingling from the memory of her skin beneath his fingers.
His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his lips parting as though he wanted to call out her name but no words came.
He could only watch her retreat until she disappeared from sight, his fists clenched into tight balls at his sides, the muscles in his arms taut with barely restrained fury.
If only Elara knew how those words would later come to hunt her
- Writer
