The fragile peace I had started building with Damien after our dinner felt like it was balancing on a very thin wire. One wrong move and everything could snap again. I spent the next two days at Sofia’s trying to focus on my studies, but my mind kept drifting back to the way he had held my hand under the table, the quiet honesty in his voice when he apologized. It wasn’t fixed. Not by a long shot. But it felt like the first real breath we’d taken in weeks.
Sofia, of course, was monitoring me like a hawk.
“You’re smiling at your phone again,” she said on the third morning, pointing her fork at me over breakfast. “That’s the ‘Damien sent me something cute’ smile. I’ve catalogued all your Damien-related facial expressions at this point. It’s a public service.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t
