The week with Lila in the house had settled into a strange, careful rhythm. She was polite, almost too polite. She made tea in the mornings, asked about my classes without prying too deeply, and complimented Damien on small things like the view from the balcony or the way the staff kept the penthouse spotless.
Damien remained civil but distant, giving short answers, watchful eyes, never fully relaxing when she was in the room. I kept telling myself it was working. That giving her this chance was the right thing. That maybe, just maybe, it would help Damien let go of some of the pain he carried like armor.
But I noticed some things that I did not want to think about, she was always searching for something, I once offered to help her look, she said it was not something serious and it was
