DAMIENThe office is in chaos. I’m sitting at the head of the conference table, the third meeting of the day already stretching past the two-hour mark. My assistant flips through yet another set of slides on the projector, her voice growing fainter in my ears as my focus drifts to the blinking red notification light on my phone. Emails keep piling up, messages demand answers, and every department seems to be on the verge of collapse. "Damien?" Someone calls my name. My head snaps up. It’s Martin, the head of finance, staring at me expectantly. "What’s your call on the proposed budget reallocation?"I rub the bridge of my nose, trying to make sense of what he’s asking. "I’ll review it tonight. Just send me a breakdown with specifics by the end of the day." My voice comes out sharp, and I see Martin’s jaw tighten as he nods and sits back.The meeting drags on, punctuated by heated discussions, arguments over projections, and a million "what-ifs." By the time it ends, my head feels lik
ANNAThe house is eerily quiet when Damien steps through the door. I’m curled up on the couch in the living room, a soft blanket draped over me, and the TV playing a show I’ve been pretending to watch. My heart leaps at the sound of his key turning in the lock, but I quickly steady myself, trying not to let my emotions show. He walks in, looking utterly exhausted. His tie is loosened, and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His dark eyes sweep over the room until they land on me. For a moment, neither of us speaks. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until he gives me a small, weary smile."Hey," he says softly, dropping his bag by the door. "Hey," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I sit up straighter, pulling the blanket tighter around me.He crosses the room in a few strides and sinks onto the couch beside me. The weight of his presence is a comfort, even though I can feel the tension radiating off him. "I’m sorry," he says, his voice hoarse. "For everyth
ANNAI’m sitting in the living room, scrolling through my phone, mindlessly flipping through photos when I see a notification at the top of my screen. My heart does a small flip as I recognise the name. Nicolas. The guy I met briefly on my honeymoon in the Maldives. I almost laugh at the thought—it seems like a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been a few weeks.“Hey, Anna! I just thought I’d check-in. Hope you’re doing well!”I bite my lip, trying to decide how to respond. Nicolas and I didn’t have any deep connection; it was just a friendly conversation on a beach, a passing encounter. But still, something about him was refreshing, a carefree energy that felt like a brief escape in the middle of everything. I decide to respond, keeping it light and friendly.“Hey, Nicolas! I’m doing well, thanks for checking in. How about you? Still, chasing sunsets in paradise?”A minute later, his reply comes through. “Haha, yes, still living the dream! Life’s good here. Let me know if you and
ANNAThe phone feels heavy in my hand as I stare at Lola’s contact picture. It’s been weeks since the wedding, and though we’ve exchanged a few texts here and there, I haven’t seen her in person. She’s been busy with work, and I… well, I’ve been too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions and confusion that is my life with Damien.I hesitate for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip before I finally hit the call button. The line rings twice before her familiar, cheerful voice answers.“Hey, Mrs. Donovan,” she teases. I can practically hear the grin in her voice.“Lola,” I groan, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Don’t start.”She laughs. “Fine, fine. What’s up? It’s been a minute.”“Can you meet me during your lunch break?” I ask, my voice a little more urgent than I intended. “There’s… a lot I need to talk to you about.”There’s a pause on her end, and I can tell she’s trying to gauge how serious I am. “Are you okay?” she asks, her tone softening.“I will be. I just… I really
ANNADamien comes down the stairs, his steps steady and deliberate. I’m sitting at the dining table, scrolling aimlessly through my phone. He stops in the doorway, his presence filling the room even before he speaks.“Morning,” he says, his voice soft but edged with something I can’t quite place.I glance up briefly and mutter, “Morning,” before returning my attention to the screen.“Any plans for today?” he asks, trying to sound casual.“Not really,” I reply, my tone clipped.He pauses as if waiting for me to say more, but when I don’t, he pulls out a chair and sits across from me.“Anna,” he says after a moment, leaning forward slightly. “What’s going on?”I don’t answer right away, pretending to be engrossed in my phone.“Don’t do this,” he says, his voice firmer now. “If something’s bothering you, just tell me.”I sigh, finally looking up at him. His eyes are searching mine, filled with an earnestness that makes me uncomfortable. “It’s nothing, Damien. I just need some space.”“Sp
DAMIENThe tension in the house is thick enough to choke on. Anna and I move around each other like ghosts, existing in the same space but never really crossing paths. She barely looks at me, her silence a sharp blade that cuts deeper with every passing hour. I tell myself to give her time, but patience has never been my strong suit.It’s late evening when I walk into the living room and find her curled up on the couch, her phone glued to her hand. She doesn’t glance up when I enter, her fingers flying across the screen. I wonder who she’s texting so eagerly, but I push the thought aside. I don’t want to be the paranoid husband.“Anna,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.“Hmm?” she murmurs, not looking up.“I’m ordering dinner. Do you want anything?”“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone clipped.I nod, even though she doesn’t see it, and walk into the kitchen. The tension is unbearable, and I feel like I’m suffocating in my own home. I’ve tried to bridge the gap between us, but ever
DAMIEN Tonight, I’ve had enough. As I walk into the bedroom, I see her sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone. My chest tightens. Her phone. Again.“Anna,” I say, my voice low but firm.She looks up, startled. “What?”“We need to talk.”Her expression hardens immediately, and she puts her phone down on the nightstand. “About what?”“You know damn well what.”She crosses her arms, her defensiveness a barrier I know all too well. “If this is about me not talking to you much lately, maybe you should look in the mirror first.”That sparks something in me a simmering anger I’ve been trying to suppress for days. “Oh, so this is my fault now?”“Well, you’ve been distant, Damien! You come home late, barely say a word to me, and act like I don’t even exist. What do you expect me to do?”I take a step closer, my voice rising. “Don’t you dare put this on me? You’ve been avoiding me first! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you shutting me out, glued to your phone like it’s the only thing th
ANNAThe room feels suffocatingly empty. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. The weight of my argument with Damien presses on my chest like a boulder, making breathing hard.How did we get here? One moment, we’re building something fragile yet hopeful; the next, it’s all crumbling beneath our feet.I glance at the door, hoping against hope that he’ll walk in and say something anything to bridge the widening chasm between us. But the house is eerily quiet.When the clock strikes midnight and there’s still no sign of Damien, the pain in my chest intensifies. He’s always been composed, never one to let his emotions get the better of him, but tonight, he was raw, unfiltered. The anger in his eyes, the hurt in his voice it’s all on replay in my mind.I pull the covers up to my chin, curling into myself as the tears come faster now, sobs shaking my body. The truth of it all stings: I messed up. I avoided him, and let Nicholas’s messages fill a void I
ANNAThe room is dim, lit only by a flickering bulb that barely illuminates the damp walls. My wrists are raw from the coarse ropes that bind me to the chair, and my throat feels like sandpaper. Nicholas’s menacing presence lingers, even when he isn’t in the room. I’ve lost count of how many hours or days I’ve been here.The door creaks open, and Nicholas steps inside, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. His lips curl into a smirk as he approaches, carrying a whip in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. My stomach growls at the sight of it, but I know better than to expect kindness from him.“Well, well, Mrs.Donovan,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. “How’s your stay so far? Cozy?”I glare at him, my lips too dry to form words.He crouches down, holding the water bottle just out of my reach. “Thirsty?”I nod weakly, my pride shattered by my desperation.Nicholas laughs a cruel sound that echoes through the room. “Beg me for it.”My heart sinks. I know he’ll take ple
DAMIEN The walls of my office feel like they’re closing in as I stare blankly at the framed photo of my parents on my desk. It’s been years since I let myself feel this kind of raw, unrelenting pain—the kind that claws at your soul and doesn’t let go. My chest tightens, and before I know it, hot tears blur my vision.The last time I cried like this was the day we buried my parents. But now, I can’t hold it in anymore. I’ve failed Anna. I’ve failed to protect her, and the weight of that realization is unbearable.Evans sits across from me, his usual sharpness dulled by worry. "Damien, you need to pull yourself together. Crying won’t bring her back."His words, though harsh, ground me. I inhale deeply, wiping my face with trembling hands. "I know," I whisper, my voice raw. "But it feels like I’ve lost everything again, Evans. First my parents, and now Anna. She’s... she’s all I have left.”Evans leans forward, his tone softening. "Then we fight. You’re Damien Donovan, damn it. You don’
ANNAThe cold air bites at my cheeks as I step out of the terminal at JFK Airport, clutching my suitcase. The New York skyline looms in the distance, a strange mixture of awe and dread settling over me. Ian’s text with his address burns in my mind. My hands tremble slightly as I hail a cab.Was this the right decision?Doubt claws at me, but I shove it aside. Damien doesn’t care. He hasn’t cared for a long time or so I tell myself. The memory of his angry eyes last night twists something deep in my chest, but I force myself to breathe. This is about me now. About starting over.The cab ride feels endless, and when it finally pulls up to a towering building, my stomach churns. Nicholas’s directions lead me to a penthouse suite, the opulence of the place making me hesitate for a moment before knocking.The door swings open almost immediately, and there he is Nicholas, looking as polished as ever in a tailored suit, his dark eyes sharp and calculating."Anna," he greets, his lips curlin
DAMIENThe moment I read Anna’s message, my entire world shifts."Don’t bother coming home tonight. I won’t be here when you do."The words burn in my mind as I grab my car keys and race out of the office. Every mile I drive feels like a lifetime, the thought of her leaving consuming me. She can’t leave. Not like this. Not without me setting things right.My tyres screech as I pull into the driveway, the house eerily silent. The lights are on, but the emptiness screams louder than words. I storm inside, calling out her name."Anna!"No answer.I head upstairs, my chest tightening as I push open the bedroom door. The sight stops me cold. Her side of the closet is half-empty, drawers open and rifled through. A suitcase is gone. My heart pounds.She’s gone."Miss Rosie!" I bellow, my voice echoing through the halls.My appears at the bottom of the stairs, her face pinched with worry. "Damien, what’s wrong?"I take the steps two at a time, reaching her in seconds. "Where is she? Where’s A
ANNAI pace the living room, phone pressed tightly to my ear, waiting for Lola to pick up. My hands are trembling, a mixture of anger, frustration, and something I can’t quite name boiling inside me. After what feels like an eternity, her familiar voice answers."Hey, girl! What’s up?"Lola’s voice is light and casual, but I can’t match her tone."Lola," I say, my voice strained, "I need to talk to you."Her tone shifts immediately. "What’s wrong? Did something happen with Damien?"I sink into the couch, pulling a blanket over my lap. "Everything. Everything is wrong, Lola. We argued last night, and it was bad. He’s distant, I’m distant it’s like we’re tearing each other apart."I pour everything out, my words tumbling over each other in a rush. I tell her about the fight, about Nicholas, and how Damien discovered the messages. I even admit to avoiding Damien due to her advice on being distant from him. By the time I finish, I’m out of breath, my throat tight from holding back tears.L
ANNAThe room feels suffocatingly empty. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. The weight of my argument with Damien presses on my chest like a boulder, making breathing hard.How did we get here? One moment, we’re building something fragile yet hopeful; the next, it’s all crumbling beneath our feet.I glance at the door, hoping against hope that he’ll walk in and say something anything to bridge the widening chasm between us. But the house is eerily quiet.When the clock strikes midnight and there’s still no sign of Damien, the pain in my chest intensifies. He’s always been composed, never one to let his emotions get the better of him, but tonight, he was raw, unfiltered. The anger in his eyes, the hurt in his voice it’s all on replay in my mind.I pull the covers up to my chin, curling into myself as the tears come faster now, sobs shaking my body. The truth of it all stings: I messed up. I avoided him, and let Nicholas’s messages fill a void I
DAMIEN Tonight, I’ve had enough. As I walk into the bedroom, I see her sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone. My chest tightens. Her phone. Again.“Anna,” I say, my voice low but firm.She looks up, startled. “What?”“We need to talk.”Her expression hardens immediately, and she puts her phone down on the nightstand. “About what?”“You know damn well what.”She crosses her arms, her defensiveness a barrier I know all too well. “If this is about me not talking to you much lately, maybe you should look in the mirror first.”That sparks something in me a simmering anger I’ve been trying to suppress for days. “Oh, so this is my fault now?”“Well, you’ve been distant, Damien! You come home late, barely say a word to me, and act like I don’t even exist. What do you expect me to do?”I take a step closer, my voice rising. “Don’t you dare put this on me? You’ve been avoiding me first! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you shutting me out, glued to your phone like it’s the only thing th
DAMIENThe tension in the house is thick enough to choke on. Anna and I move around each other like ghosts, existing in the same space but never really crossing paths. She barely looks at me, her silence a sharp blade that cuts deeper with every passing hour. I tell myself to give her time, but patience has never been my strong suit.It’s late evening when I walk into the living room and find her curled up on the couch, her phone glued to her hand. She doesn’t glance up when I enter, her fingers flying across the screen. I wonder who she’s texting so eagerly, but I push the thought aside. I don’t want to be the paranoid husband.“Anna,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.“Hmm?” she murmurs, not looking up.“I’m ordering dinner. Do you want anything?”“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone clipped.I nod, even though she doesn’t see it, and walk into the kitchen. The tension is unbearable, and I feel like I’m suffocating in my own home. I’ve tried to bridge the gap between us, but ever
ANNADamien comes down the stairs, his steps steady and deliberate. I’m sitting at the dining table, scrolling aimlessly through my phone. He stops in the doorway, his presence filling the room even before he speaks.“Morning,” he says, his voice soft but edged with something I can’t quite place.I glance up briefly and mutter, “Morning,” before returning my attention to the screen.“Any plans for today?” he asks, trying to sound casual.“Not really,” I reply, my tone clipped.He pauses as if waiting for me to say more, but when I don’t, he pulls out a chair and sits across from me.“Anna,” he says after a moment, leaning forward slightly. “What’s going on?”I don’t answer right away, pretending to be engrossed in my phone.“Don’t do this,” he says, his voice firmer now. “If something’s bothering you, just tell me.”I sigh, finally looking up at him. His eyes are searching mine, filled with an earnestness that makes me uncomfortable. “It’s nothing, Damien. I just need some space.”“Sp