March 10, 2026.
I told Damien about the coffee with Mia the same night.
He listened without interrupting, sitting on the edge of his bed while I paced his room.
When I finished, he exhaled slowly.
“She knows something’s wrong.”
“Yeah.” I stopped pacing. “But she doesn’t know what. She’s giving me space.”
He rubbed his jaw. “How long do you think that lasts?”
I sat beside him. “Not long. She’s patient, but she’s hurt. I can feel it.”
He nodded. “I see it too. She’s been quieter with me. Asking where I am more.”
We sat in silence.
Then he took my hand.
“We have to decide,” he said quietly. “Keep hiding and let her figure it out on her own—or tell her. Controlled.”
My heart pounded.
“Tell her?”
He met my eyes. “Not everything. Not yet. But… enough. That there’s someone. That it’
