January 6, 2026.
Back to reality.
The holidays were officially over. Mia returned from her cabin trip tanned and full of stories. Work emails piled up for both of us—Damien back to full CEO mode, me chasing freelance deadlines and sending out applications for junior designer spots.
We’d agreed on the rules. Honesty. No letting jealousy turn toxic. Living normal lives.
But normal felt like pretending.
I spent the day at home, sketching logos at the kitchen table while Mom hummed and baked banana bread. Every ping of my phone made my heart jump, hoping it was him.
It usually was.
Damien (10:12 a.m.): Meeting dragging. Thinking about you on my kitchen island yesterday.
Damien (11:45 a.m.): Sarah just asked if I’m free for a “strategy lunch” this week. Told her I’m booked solid.
Me (1
