SEVENTY-TWO

KIERA’S POV

The weekend crept up on me faster than a cat on a mouse, catching me completely off guard. Ever since my meeting with Fabian, Damien had been like a ghost—present but somehow so far away. He’d taken the rest of the week off but returned to work after our talk, and for the past two days, he’d made a habit of avoiding me. Leaving before the sun even peeked over the horizon and sliding in late at night, his texts were as short as a kid’s attention span in a boring class.

As I was packing my bag, the door swung open, and my heart clamped the moment I spotted Damien.

My hard was thumping and fluttering at the sight of him. I had missed him so much, and his presence suddenly brought a smile on my face.

“I see you’re getting ready to leave,” he said, approaching me.

I paused, scanning his face, “Why have you been avoiding me?” I asked, contrasting his statement.

“I haven’t,” he shot back, the defensiveness in his tone sharper than a chef’s knife.

“Oh please. It’s so obvious that