LOGIN“I… I’m sooo sorry… I… I didn’t know he was important. I thought he was just a stranger… Uhh his eyes..... I thought.... HE was here looking for me..... HIS Men.... I mean that guy was...... HIS man.... to take me back...... and that’s why.... uhh that's why.... I.... I was scared. He… he looks…”
She turned her face toward Mr. Parker, her eyes wide with uncertainty, lips trembling as she swallowed the words she didn’t dare to speak. Her voice dropped to a whisper, softer than the silence in the room.
“I hadn’t seen him before… I couldn’t recognize him. Is he… is he outside? If yes, then please… please ask him to come in. I want to apologize and thank him.”
The room fell into stunned stillness. For the first time in years, Davina had initiated a conversation. Not out of compulsion. Not out of necessity. But from a place of fragile courage blooming in her heart. Mr. Parker blinked in disbelief before quickly replying, “It’s okay, Davi. You don’t need to force yourself. I’ll speak to him for you…”
But she shook her head, her fingers clenching the hem of her blanket. “No… I want to.”
This wasn’t the Davina they knew— the one who built walls thicker than steel, the girl who hid behind the glow of her laptop, who chose digital classrooms and empty corridors over human connection. This Davina was trying… bleeding and bruised, but still trying.
When they told Michelle, he didn’t say much. But his silence wasn’t hollow. It was filled with an overwhelming joy he didn’t dare show. She asked about him. She wanted to see him. He walked inside her room with a heart full of restrained happiness, masking it with a practiced blankness.
But her reaction was far from warm. As soon as she saw him, fear curled around her like a storm. Her lips twitched upward in a ghost of a smile that never fully formed. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She looked so small, so breakable.
A part of her was scared of him, another part wanted to ask Michelle if he knew the man she feared the most. Where they related? Though she believed and trusted Mr. Parker and Dr. Marshall’s words, a part of her was worried, looking at the similar facial traits, yet she could also see they had nothing in common; both were two different individuals.
Mr. Parker interrupted the silence, announcing he had meetings to attend and asked Michelle to stay with her. Davina’s head snapped up, stunned. Michelle’s lips twitched with a barely restrained smirk of triumph.
Before she could even react, Mr. Parker leaned in, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and left. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall soon followed, leaving her utterly stunned, words dying in her throat.
The silence they left behind echoed louder than their departure.
Michelle looked at her with childlike joy barely hidden behind a sheepish shrug. She looked at him, at the ridiculous grin on his face, and though her heart pounded with unease, a reluctant smile bloomed on her lips.
A silent truce.
Time stood still. He couldn’t find the words, and she couldn’t find the strength. She fidgeted, and he looked at the floor. Then came her laughter— pure, uninhibited, and utterly unexpected.
He looked up, captivated. It hit him like a wave. She’s laughing.
He watched her, stunned by the contradiction of who she had been and what she was becoming.
“You… *laughs* you look so damn funny! Your face is… pink! Like a shy pink panther!”
That word— pink panther— stabbed at his pride. He was used to being called many things: handsome, commanding, intimidating. But this? This was new. But he swallowed the insult with a tight smile. Because she laughed. And that mattered more.
“I’m not hurt, sweetie,” he said, eyes downcast. “I’ve heard worse. Actually… that’s the cutest insult I’ve ever received.”
She blushed.
“I’m just not used to this. I don’t know how to be gentle. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry…”
A silence stretched again before she softly responded,
“I am She…” Her voice cracked, emotion tightening around her throat like a noose. Her eyes welled, and she fought for composure.
“I… I am Davina. Davina Parker.”
He smiled. “Relax, sweetie. I don’t eat humans.”
She chuckled, and the walls between them cracked.
“I’m Michelle Bell… but you can call me Mike.”
He watched her, mesmerised. She still didn’t know he noticed every twitch of her lips, every flicker of her eyes.
She teased him back. “Don’t worry. I don’t eat humans either.”
He grinned. She smiled. The distance shrank.
“Would you like to join me for coffee?” he asked, heart pounding.
She hesitated. But when her eyes met his, ocean-blue and honest, she nodded. But soon added
"I can't have coffee. Maybe lunch. I am starving."
Her words made him smile.
All he needed was a positive response from her. He quickly arranged her Discharge papers and completed all formalities, promising her to drop her off at Parker Mansion soon after their lunch.
Later, sitting in his luxury car, she stared out, trying to calm her nerves while he watched her like a man witnessing a miracle.
Her beauty. Her strength. Her broken grace.
He wanted to know her story, every painful piece of it. But he stayed silent. He didn’t want to ruin this fragile beginning.
“Which restaurant do you prefer?”
She smiled and looked at her stomach while caressing it. “Anything…. Actually….. I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole elephant!”
He laughed, relieved.
But when they reached the restaurant— his own, high above the city— her body trembled. The stares, the whispers… her panic returned.
She shrank beside him, her hand grabbing his involuntarily. His heart leapt. She immediately released his hand from her grip.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but to her surprise, he held her hand, which she quickly pulled away from his grip. He looked surprised, making her feel guilty and regretful for her reflex.
“It’s not your fault. I just… my body….. I am not comfortable with touch… I…..”
He bent down, wiped her tears. “It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s just focus on your hunger, yeah?”
They laughed, walked in, and rode the elevator together. He watched her marvel at the view, unaware she was becoming his view.
A part of him was yearning to know about her past because he was sure there was a lot more than what Dr. Marshall had told him, but he didn’t want to force her to speak and make her despise him. He cared for her and loved her deeply the moment he saw her. It reminded him of his mother and her troubled days and helplessness.
When they sat in the private area, her comfort slowly returned. They laughed. Ate like children. Shared stories like old friends.
For the first time, she felt… safe.
Not all men were monsters. Not all touch meant pain.
Mike… was different.
That day, she didn’t just step out of the hospital—
She slowly stepped out of her past.
.
.
.
PAST ENDS
Past: Shefali’s POV The next few days passed quietly. Peaceful, yes — but incomplete.I missed him.I kept expecting a call, a message, anything. But Damon didn’t reach out. Not once.Instead, he sent back a few essentials — my laptop, books, notes, innerwear, and some clothes. All branded, all pristine. But none of them felt like mine. The dresses were oversized, baggy, deliberately chosen to cover me up. I laughed when I saw them. His possessiveness was showing. But it was also annoying. I couldn’t wear those to university — not without looking like I’d borrowed someone else’s wardrobe.I knew he’d done it on purpose.I tried calling him. He didn’t answer. I knew I had upset him, but I couldn’t just break the news to parents or pick him over my parents. It had been five days since I’d seen him. Five days of silence. And it was making me restless.I was using my latest phone and SIM — both gifted by him. But I’d lied to everyone, saying I’d lost my old phone and broken my other, and
My parents.Dad was impatiently standing near the entryway, and Mom was seated on the couch, her head in her hands, looking worried and tired.I dropped Damon’s hand instinctively.I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The last time we’d talked, I’d lied. Said I was fine. Said I was working late. Said I was always at home, busy studying.Damon stepped in behind me, silently giving me the courage to take a step forward.I stepped inside.“Mumma?” I called.She turned, eyes widening. “Shifu!”She ran to me, arms wrapping around me tightly. “Where were you? We were so worried!”Dad joined her; relief washed over his face. “You didn’t answer your phone, baby. We thought something had happened. Baby, we were so worried…”I didn’t let him finish.“I’m fine, Daddy…” I whispered. “I was just… uhh…. with a friend.”I lied.And I knew the moment I said it — I’d made a mistake.I side-glanced at Damon.His expression changed instantly.Was he pissed?Of course he was.He had just declared his love fo
Morning came, but the dread didn’t leave.I woke up tangled in Damon’s sheets, his arm draped over my waist like a claim. His breath was steady, his body warm against mine. But I couldn’t stop the chill crawling up my spine.I hadn’t slept.Not really.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw blood dripping from the punching bag. The limp body in the corner. Damon’s laughter echoing in that dungeon-like room. Ryan’s smirk. Alex’s casual chuckle.They weren’t horrified. They weren’t shaken.They were comfortable.Of course, they were comfortable. They had done that to those two men. Yes, those men were bad news — I knew that. But the state in which I saw them… it was inhuman.And that terrified me.I hadn’t said a word. Not last night. Not this morning. I didn’t dare.What if he knew I’d seen?What if he was waiting for me to bring it up?What if silence was the only thing keeping me safe?I slipped out of bed quietly, tiptoed to the bathroom, and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were
But I knew better. She was whispering something. Probably “Congratulations.” But her lips brushed his cheek, and her eyes flicked sideways — locking onto me with a smirk that screamed challenge.The announcer called some bigshot from of boxing, who handed Damon the WBC International Heavyweight Title, congratulating and praising him.The crowd roared.Cameras flashed.But my eyes were fixed on Annaida’s hand on Damon. The way she clung to him and the victory smile plastered on her face. A challenging look in her eyes. Mocking me.I felt small. As if I were nothing. Like I didn’t belong in this world of flashing cameras and designer gowns. Which was the Ultimate Truth.Alex, standing beside me, noticed. He placed a hand gently on my shoulder, trying to ground me, distract me. But it didn’t help. My gaze was locked on Damon.And Damon… he saw it.He saw the way my bright, glowing face dimmed. He saw the way I shrank beneath Annaida’s smirk. He noticed Alex’s hand on my shoulder.And som
I held him.Tears streamed down my face as I cradled Damon in my arms, his body trembling, blood dripping from his mouth, his skin bruised in shades of purple and red.He was broken.Beaten.But victorious.His trainer rushed over with a first aid kit, dressing the gash above his brow, wrapping his ribs. Damon winced but didn’t complain. He just kept his eyes on me, like I was the only thing tethering him to this world.Fedric Brunetti had already been rushed to the hospital. He hadn’t moved since the knockout.Damon kissed me quickly, his lips warm despite the blood still drying on his skin. I wanted to hold him longer, to shield him from the chaos, but before I could say anything, the medics stepped in.“He needs to be checked immediately,” one of them said, already guiding him away.Damon didn’t resist. He looked at me once — a glance that said everything — then let himself be pulled toward the medics. His body was swaying, his steps uneven. The robe hung loosely off his shoulders,
Then came the day of the match.Damon had left early with his trainer, long before the sun rose. I didn’t even hear him go. Alex had promised to bring me along later — said Damon wanted me rested, calm, untouched by the chaos of the arena.But I wasn’t calm.I was tense. Worried. Praying.I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the promise ring Damon had given me, whispering silent pleas to whatever god would listen. That he would win. That he would be safe. That he wouldn’t come back broken.I knew what this fight meant.It wasn’t just a title match. It was a reckoning.The WBC International Heavyweight Title was on the line — the belt Damon should’ve claimed, but didn’t. Because he never showed up for the semi-finals. All because of me.Tonight’s match was designed for brutality.And I was terrified, counting each minute.And finally it was time, Alex waited for me in the foyer, dressed in a sleek black suit, his expression unusually serious. He didn’t tease. Didn’t flir







