The way Damien constantly had to mirror Kelsey’s grace. To match her pace. To say the right things, wear the right suit, hold her hand the right way in front of the caras.
With Estelle, it wasn’t like that.
She didn’t care if he stumbled over his words. She didn’t care if he forgot his tie. She just cared about him. The man beneath the titles.
The tired version of him at midnight. The grumpy, quiet, half-broken man who sotis just needed a hug.
And she gave it all.
Without asking for anything in return.
Until he broke her.
He didn’t even realize the exact mont he lost her.
Maybe it was the ti he got together with Kelsey during dinner. Maybe it was when he stopped texting back as quickly, stopped asking Estelle about her day.
Maybe it was when she saw the hesitation—that flicker of guilt he thought he’d hidden so well—every ti she reached for his hand.
Maybe it was all of it.
But what hurt the most was knowing Estelle would never make him beg for her to stay. She just left.
Because Estelle, for all her light and laughter, had dignity too. She wouldn’t cling to a man who was already halfway gone. She didn’t scream, or weep, or hurl accusations. She simply slipped out of his life like a breeze—quiet and gentle—so unlike the way she ca in, like a hurricane: wild, loud, and impossible to ignore.
And now, Damien sat surrounded by everything he thought he wanted—crystal-clear views of the New York skyline, finely tailored suits, a na that commanded attention, and Kelsey.
Everything except the one person who made him feel like sothing more than the status he was born with.
And Damien wonders, as silence folds around him like a second skin, if he’ll ever hear that laugh again—the one that rang like wind chis in spring, delicate and full of life.
If forgiveness is still possible. If fate will offer even the faintest chance to choose her—and this ti, with no doubts, no delay.
Because now, he understands.
There would be no hesitation now.
No flinching when her hand reached out. No glances over his shoulder at ghosts that should’ve stayed buried. The past had its chance; it was the present he would cling to, if only he could.
He would choose her. This ti. Every ti.
The wild-haired girl who danced barefoot in the kitchen, who surprised him with midnight ran, who looked at him like he was more than just his na and legacy.
Estelle had never been a re escape. She had been a reason—a reason to stay, to soften, to hope.
But all that remains now is the echo of her smile.
And the crushing weight of absence—the knowledge that the one girl who made him feel human again is still out there, sowhere, still laughing.
Just not for him.
"What’s in your mind?"
Damien blinked, the clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation pulling him back to the present.
Across the table, Kelsey sat with a poised smile, her presence as unwelco as it was unexpected.
"Nothing. Just business," Damien quipped, his voice devoid of warmth. "What are you doing here again?"
He recalled ending things with her definitively before they left for New York. Yet here she was, inserting herself into his life once more, as if nothing had changed.
It was ironic. He had chased her for years, enduring her mixed signals and emotional distance. Whenever he tried to solidify their relationship, she would retreat, only to reel him back in with fleeting gestures of affection.
He had once found the chase exhilarating, but now, after experiencing the genuine warmth of Estelle’s love, he found it exhausting.
"Oh, don’t be so serious, Damien. I’m here for work," Kelsey said, her tone light but insincere.
He didn’t respond. He knew it was a lie.
Earlier, he had planned a quiet dinner with Eve, hoping to spend so quality ti with her. But Kelsey’s unexpected arrival had disrupted those plans.
Eve had left shortly after, clearly uncomfortable with Kelsey’s presence. Damien couldn’t bla her. Their first encounter had been disastrous.
Back in Frizkiel, during a date with Eve, Kelsey had confronted them, hurling insults and even resorting to physical aggression.
She had slapped Eve and pulled her hair, prompting Eve to retaliate. That incident had been the final straw for Damien. Any lingering feelings he had for Kelsey evaporated that day.
"I’ll leave you to it. Eve is waiting for ," Damien said, standing up and placing enough cash on the table to cover all their als.
As he turned to leave, Kelsey grabbed his hand, her eyes brimming with tears. In the past, he might have stayed to comfort her. Now, he felt nothing.
"Can’t we just fix this? I’ve already apologized to your sister, and she forgave . Can’t you forgive too? It was a mont of insanity. You had broken up with , and then the next day, I saw you with her. Can you really bla ?"
"It’s not about Eve anymore," Damien replied, his voice cold. "I just don’t have any feelings for you, Kelsey. Let’s go our separate ways, and end it once and for all."
Kelsey’s expression darkened, her tears replaced by anger. "Is it because of Estelle? She’s the reason, isn’t she? I shouldn’t have let that little girl get to you. I thought our love was strong, but it turns out you’ve been swayed by that child."
Damien’s eyes narrowed, his deanor turning intimidating. "Watch your words, Kelsey. I’ve tolerated you long enough. For the record, Estelle may look young, but her love is genuine and warm—unlike yours."
With that, Damien turned on his heel and walked away, his stride steady and unbothered—leaving Kelsey gaping after him.
For a mont, she sat frozen in her seat, stunned by the cold finality in his voice. Then, as the reality settled in, her expression slowly twisted. Her eyes narrowed, lips trembling—not with sorrow, but fury. Her perfectly polished nails dug into the linen of her dress as her jaw clenched tight.
He was serious.
He really ant it.
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