---
His Wife, His Mistake
Chapter Twelve: The Ghost I Didn't Bury
POV: Damon
---
I should've cut her off.
Blocked her. Deleted the number. Burned the last thread connecting me to a life I no longer wanted.
But I didn't.
Because a part of me thought I already had.
A part of me thought I was done with Sophia the moment Arya walked out that door and took every trace of love with her.
But ghosts don't disappear because you stop saying their names.
They come back.
Especially when you start rebuilding the things they helped you destroy.
---
It started with a call I ignored.
Then a message.
"Heard you're in Westbrook. That's cute. Hope you're not hiding from me."
I didn't reply.
But maybe I should've.
Maybe if I had said "stay away," she wouldn't have come.
But Sophia never needed an invitation.
She was fire and poison. Beautiful, reckless, manipulative. She knew how to smile just right, how to twist a conversation, how to make me feel like I owed her something even when I didn't.
I was a fool to ever let her in.
And now, because of that mistake, I was about to lose everything again.
---
It happened on a Tuesday.
A sunny one.
Arya had agreed to meet me at the café across from her gallery. We were supposed to talk — just talk — for the first time since she left.
I didn't expect forgiveness.
But I had hope.
She was finally letting me sit across from her, look her in the eye, speak without begging at her doorstep.
I was wearing the shirt she once loved — the light gray one she said made me look less like a CEO and more like a man.
I was ten minutes early.
I kept glancing at the door.
And then… Sophia walked in.
---
Heels clicking.
Red lips smirking.
Hair too perfect for a place like Westbrook.
"Damon," she purred, like her name was a spell I'd forgotten.
I stood too fast.
People turned to look.
"Sophia—what the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.
"Relax," she said, sliding into the seat across from mine. "I missed you."
I stayed standing.
"You shouldn't be here."
"Oh, please. Don't pretend you didn't miss me at least a little."
My jaw clenched. "I didn't."
She blinked, surprised at the sharpness. Then she leaned forward.
"Is this about her?" she asked, voice dripping with fake innocence.
I didn't answer.
And that was enough.
---
Across the street, I didn't notice Arya step out of her gallery.
Didn't see her pause.
Didn't see the way her eyes narrowed when she spotted us through the window — Sophia sitting comfortably where she was supposed to be.
When I finally looked up, Arya was standing outside the café, frozen.
Sophia turned around, smirked, and waved.
And Arya?
She turned right back around.
And walked away.
---
I chased her.
Left Sophia mid-sentence, bolting across the street like a madman.
"Arya—Arya, wait—"
She didn't stop.
I caught up to her near the alley behind the gallery.
She turned on me before I could speak.
"Wow," she said, voice shaking but cold. "You really don't disappoint when it comes to disappointment, do you?"
I flinched. "It's not what you think—"
"You're unbelievable," she snapped. "I gave you one chance. One chance to prove you weren't the same man who let me walk out with a baby in my belly and pain in my bones."
"It's not what it looks like," I repeated, desperate now. "She showed up. I didn't invite her—"
"You didn't stop her either," she spat. "You let her sit there. Laugh. Smile. Like she belonged next to you."
I stepped forward. "Arya, I swear—"
"No. Don't swear," she cut in, voice breaking. "You swore to love me once too. Remember how that ended?"
Her eyes were glassy now. Angry. Betrayed all over again.
"I was starting to believe you," she whispered. "I was starting to think maybe… maybe Lucas could have a father. Maybe I could forgive. And then this?"
Tears slid down her cheeks.
She didn't wipe them.
"You haven't changed," she said softly. "You just got better at acting."
And with that, she turned and walked inside the gallery.
This time, she locked the door behind her.
---
I stood outside for hours.
Sophia had long gone. Probably smug. Probably convinced she still had power.
But she didn't.
Not anymore.
The only woman who had power over me was inside that gallery — hating me all over again because I didn't bury my past deep enough.
And the worst part?
She was right.
---
I let Sophia linger in my world for too long.
Even when I stopped seeing her.
Even when I tried to move on.
Even when I realized Arya was the only thing I'd ever truly loved…
I never cut the cord.
And now?
Now Arya thought I brought my mistress to Westbrook.
To her town.
To our son's doorstep.
To our second chance.
---
That night, I wrote another letter.
"You were right. I didn't stop her soon enough. And maybe you'll never believe me, but I didn't want her here. Not for a second. You are the only woman I've ever wanted to stay for. I'll keep showing you that, even if you never look again."
I slid it under the gallery door.
And sat outside with my back against the wall, waiting for nothing but the cold.
Because if I was going to lose Arya again…
I wasn't going to do it standing up.