The rain had returned soft, steady, and relentless.
Each drop slid down the glass like the ticking of a clock, marking time she no longer owned.
Ayla sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, her wrists still trembling from the cold. The fire burned low in the hearth, throwing long, flickering shadows across the room. Shadows that looked almost like hands reaching, closing in.
And then came the sound.
Footsteps.
Measured. Calm.
Each one heavier than the last.
Damien appeared in the doorway his coat still wet, his hair slicked back, eyes glinting like polished steel. He looked untouched by the storm outside, perfectly composed, terrifyingly sane.
"You've made quite a mess, love," he said softly, closing the door behind him.
No anger. No shouting. Just that quiet, deliberate voice that was worse than any scream.
Ayla's fingers gripped the hem of her dress. "Please, Damien"
He tilted his head. "Please what? Don't misunderstand, Ayla. I'm not angry. I'm… disappointed."
He moved closer, step by step, until the firelight carved the edges of his face into marble.
"You ran away," he whispered. "Do you know what that does to me? What it says about me?"
She tried to meet his gaze and failed. "I was scared"
"Of me?"
The question hung in the air like smoke.
When she didn't answer, he smiled. A slow, chilling curve of his lips.
"You're not scared, Ayla. You're confused. That's what happens when people whisper lies in your ear."
He crouched beside her, his fingers brushing her chin, forcing her eyes up to his.
"I saved you," he murmured. "From the world. From chaos. From people who don't understand what we have."
Her breath caught. "You pushed my mother"
He didn't even flinch.
"A tragic accident," he said, almost tenderly. "She lost her balance. You know how fragile she was."
Ayla's eyes filled with tears. "You're lying."
"And yet," he whispered, "you're still here."
That silence heavy, suffocating stretched between them.
Then he stood, his hand brushing his cuff. "You'll see things clearly again soon. For now, I want you to rest. No phone. No visitors. Just us."
She wanted to scream. To run. But his calmness paralyzed her more than fury ever could.
As he left the room, she whispered into the emptiness,
"This isn't love, Damien."
From the hallway, his voice came back quiet, cold, final.
"It's the only kind you'll ever have."