Damian's POV
I don't remember the door closing behind Emma.
I don't remember breathing either.
All I know is the echo she left behind, it was sharp, shaking, still warm enough to hurt. She walked out of my office like she was holding herself together with her own hands, and every instinct in me screamed to go after her.
But I didn't.
Because if I touched her now, if I pushed one second too fast, she'd run, and this time she wouldn't come back.
So I stood there, in the middle of my office, feeling the weight of everything I never said and everything I finally said.
"I can't promise that."
Those were the last words I gave her.
I should've lied. I should've told her what she wanted to hear but I've spent a year living with every regret known to man. I'm done adding more. I'm keeping her in my life one way or another. A quiet sound pulled me out of my thoughts — heels. It was slow, precise, clicking closer. I knew that rhythm.
Clara.
