Shadows of the Past
590 Words
The ride back to the penthouse was heavy with unspoken words.
Eliana sat beside Damon, her hands folded neatly in her lap, heart pounding far too fast.
Every now and then, she caught him glancing at her, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.
When the car finally rolled to a stop at Blackwood Tower, Damon didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Finally, Damon spoke.
“You were perfect today.”
The words were simple, but they lodged deep inside Eliana’s chest, unlocking a part of her she had been trying desperately to seal away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, turning toward him.
Their eyes met, and for the first time, Damon didn’t look away.
The air between them shifted — a subtle but unmistakable current pulling them closer.
Eliana’s breath caught.
He leaned in slightly, hesitation flashing across his face — a rare crack in his ever-cold composure.
But just as quickly, he pulled back, a shadow crossing his features.
“Good night, Eliana,” he said tightly, stepping out of the car before she could respond.
By the time she followed him into the elevator, the fragile moment was gone, swallowed by the walls he built around himself.
Still, something had changed.
And Eliana wasn’t about to let it slip away without a fight.
⸻
Later that night, unable to sleep, she wandered into the penthouse’s library — a vast room lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves and deep leather armchairs.
It was the only place that felt remotely warm.
She curled into a chair with a blanket and tried to read, but her mind wouldn’t settle.
Images of Damon kept flashing through her thoughts — the way his eyes softened when he looked at her today, the way his voice had dropped when he complimented her.
The Damon she saw glimpses of wasn’t heartless.
He was haunted.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear him enter the room.
“You can’t sleep either?”
She jolted, looking up to see Damon leaning casually against the doorway, his jacket gone, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.
He looked… human. Tired. Almost vulnerable.
“No,” she admitted. “Too many thoughts.”
He moved closer, hands tucked in his pockets.
“This marriage,” he said after a moment, voice low, “was supposed to be simple.”
Eliana gave a small, bitter laugh.
“Nothing about this has been simple.”
Silence.
Then Damon said something that almost didn’t seem real.
“I didn’t want to feel anything.”
The confession hung in the air, fragile and raw.
“But you do,” Eliana said softly.
He didn’t deny it.
He moved to stand behind her chair, his presence wrapping around her like a cloak.
Slowly, carefully, he placed his hands on her shoulders — not possessively, but almost tentatively, as if asking permission.
Eliana closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.
It wasn’t a kiss.
It wasn’t a promise.
But it was something.
A beginning.
They stayed like that for a long time, neither of them speaking, the quiet between them finally gentle instead of cold.
For the first time, Eliana didn’t feel like a stranger in her own life.
For the first time, she wondered if Damon wasn’t just a man trapped by duty — but someone who might, with time, learn how to love.
And deep down, where she didn’t dare admit it yet, a small, reckless part of her hoped he would.
- Writer
