The rain fell softly that evening, tracing silver lines across the glass walls of Damian’s penthouse. The city below was a blur of lights and distant noise, but inside, the world had shrunk to the quiet rhythm of their heartbeats.
Elena stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself. Damian was behind her—silent, composed, his reflection looming like a shadow beside hers. Neither spoke for a long time.
She finally broke the silence. “You’ve been gone for three days,” she said quietly. “No calls. No messages. I thought—”
“That I disappeared?” His voice was low, smooth, but edged with something raw. “I had to deal with something.”
“Something,” she echoed. “That’s all you ever say.”
He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the rain-soaked air. “Elena, some things a
