CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE WEIGHT OF A NAME
The sky had already begun dimming when Damien returned.
Aria heard the soft knock before Eli did, but her heart reacted faster than her feet—slamming against her ribs, pulsing in her throat, forcing her still for a full second.
She wasn't ready.
But readiness didn't matter anymore.
"Mommy?" Eli called from the living room, marker in hand.
"Is Daddy back?"
Her breath snagged.
Daddy.
So easily, so innocently spoken.
"Let me check," she said softly, smoothing her palms over her jeans before making her way to the door.
She opened it.
Damien stood there—dressed in a charcoal jacket, hair slightly tousled from the wind, eyes unreadable but burning with a restrained intensity. He held a small bag in his hand.
"For Eli," he said simply.
"Just a few books."
Her throat tightened.
"Come in."
He stepped into the apartment with the same quiet confidence he'd always had, but now it felt different—less arrogant, more controlled, more aware that he didn't have the right to pretend nothing had changed.
Eli ran toward him with a squeal.
"Daddy!"
Damien's entire face softened in a way Aria couldn't handle.
He knelt and opened his arms.
Eli crashed into him.
And Damien held him.
Not cautiously.
Not awkwardly.
But with a full-bodied, fierce tenderness that made Aria blink back tears she refused to shed.
"Hey, champ," Damien murmured.
"I brought you something."
Eli gasped and reached for the bag eagerly. Damien pulled out three children's books—one with dinosaurs, one with colorful shapes, and one about a little boy who flew to the moon.
Eli squealed and sat on the floor immediately, flipping through pages with uncontained joy.
Aria watched Damien watch him.
A man discovering a world he never knew belonged to him.
A father trying desperately to memorize every second he'd missed.
And suddenly, the conversation waiting for them tonight felt heavier than ever.
While Eli read, Damien rose slowly and approached Aria, stopping just close enough that she could feel the warmth of him again.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?" she whispered.
"For letting me be here."
She swallowed hard. "You have a right."
"No," he said softly.
"Not automatically. Not after everything."
His honesty disarmed her.
Her chest tightened.
"Can we talk after he sleeps?" Damien asked.
Aria nodded.
She didn't trust her voice.
Eli fell asleep faster than usual—probably from the excitement of the day. Aria tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and stood by the door longer than she intended.
She wasn't ready.
But Damien was waiting.
She stepped out quietly and found him in the living room, standing by the window, hands in his pockets, staring out into the night as though the answers he needed were hidden somewhere in the city lights.
He turned when he heard her.
Aria crossed her arms. "Okay," she said, steadying herself.
"Let's talk."
Damien exhaled slowly and moved toward the couch. She took the opposite end, keeping space between them—space she desperately needed.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he broke the silence.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her breath stuttered.
"I tried," she whispered.
"I almost called. I wrote messages I never sent. I came to your building once and stood outside the lobby for thirty minutes before walking away."
Damien's jaw clenched.
"You should have tried harder."
Aria flinched.
He saw it.
Regret flashed across his face instantly.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said quietly.
"I'm angry, Aria. But not at you."
"Then who?" she whispered.
"Me," he said, voice low.
"For not making it safe for you to come to me. For letting things end the way they did. For being the kind of man you thought you couldn't trust."
Her eyes dropped to her lap.
"Everything happened too fast," she said softly.
"We were barely together. And then the breakup was—"
"Violent," Damien finished, shame burning in his voice.
"I said things I should never have said."
Aria closed her eyes. She remembered it all too clearly.
"And you left before I could tell you I was pregnant."
Damien inhaled sharply.
"You should've told me anyway."
"And you should have listened," she whispered back.
Silence.
Heavy, wounded silence.
Damien leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped.
"Three years, Aria," he said quietly.
"Three years of my son growing up without me. Nothing will ever give me those years back."
The guilt crushed her.
"You're right," she whispered.
"And I'm sorry."
He looked at her with something raw and sharp.
"Do you regret keeping him?"
Aria's head snapped up.
"What? No, Damien. Never."
His shoulders loosened—barely.
"Do you regret keeping him from me?"
Her throat closed.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Every day."
Damien exhaled, eyes closing briefly, as if releasing a pressure he'd been holding inside since the moment he discovered Eli existed.
When he opened them, there was something new in his gaze—resolve, unbreakable and terrifying.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said.
"Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever again."
Aria's breath trembling, she asked,
"What do you want, Damien?"
He didn't hesitate.
"My son."
Her heart dropped.
"And you."
She froze.
His next words were softer, deeper, far more dangerous:
"I don't know what we can be now. But I know I'm not letting either of you walk out of my life again. So whatever happens next, Aria… we figure it out. Together."
Her world tilted.
"I don't know if I can trust you," she whispered.
Damien leaned closer—close enough for his warmth to touch her skin.
"Then let me earn it."
Her pulse hammered.
"Aria," he murmured, eyes locked on hers.
"You're not alone anymore."
The words broke her.
Quietly.
Completely.
And for the first time since Eli was born, Aria allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this story wasn't destined to end in heartbreak.
It might just be the beginning.