Page 13

Later, Damien and I headed to the parking lot and climbed into my car.

We talked briefly about the whole situation, but I could see he was exhausted. That got me thinking—his heat might be tapering off. Omegas often grew sluggish during the final phase.

At home, we ate a hearty dinner before settling in front of the computer to watch a live broadcast from Fate’s Choice headquarters.

Various people—likely low-level employees—were giving statements. Mr. Ragu appeared with his husband, Jun, a few bandages on his face, and made an official statement on behalf of the company, assuring everyone that everything was fine —better than fine , even. The journalist asked him about Blue Lowen, but Ragu skillfully dodged every question.

He repeatedly emphasized that the attack had nothing to do with his business, making sure that message came across loud and clear. I think he mentioned it at least five times.

Eventually, we’d had enough of the talking heads on screen and went to bed.

After making love, I spent a while holding him in my arms, gently stroking his back. I allowed myself this moment of intimacy, though perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed it because I sensed some growing confusion from him.

That evening, the breaks between our sessions were much longer. It wasn't until 8 pm that another wave came, and when we went to sleep, it wasn't until about 3 am that I felt his movements again and plunged into him. After that, it was quiet and we slept peacefully until morning.

I woke up at 7 am, knowing we had to leave by 8 am at the latest to reach the town where Star lived by noon. When I sat up and touched his arm, Damien turned to me, and I realized he wasn’t asleep! He looked awful—pale, with restless eyes.

"Damien, what’s wrong?" I asked.

He replied in a gloomy tone, "My heat is over. I don’t need to go with you today for those client visits."

Silence fell, and I have to admit, I was stunned it had ended so abruptly. Could yesterday’s situation have sped it up even more? Even though we came out of it physically unscathed, we’d both been under a lot of stress.

"How do you know? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I feel like I’m having a depressive episode."

I knew exactly what he meant—my ex used to feel the same way after every heat.

"What about the dryness… there? It's a telltale sign that the heat is coming to an end."

"Yes, I have that too."

There was a long pause. I didn’t know what to say. I felt… deeply disappointed, though I couldn’t explain why. Was this really it? The end of this wonderful time together that I’d enjoyed so much?

Finally, I managed to say, "Stress shortened it. You’ve had a lot of it lately."

"Yeah." He stared at the ceiling, his cheeks pale. Did he regret it too?

I bit my lip and stayed quiet, thinking. Damien still wouldn’t look at me.

"The next few hours won’t be easy," I started, "you’ll feel down and tired. I should be here with you—"

But he cut me off immediately. "You don’t have to. I know you’ve got work to do, and it’s urgent. It can’t wait."

"But—"

"Go. I’m not in any shape to travel right now. My head would explode—"

"Damien—"

"I’m serious. Go! Time’s ticking, and you’ll be late for the meeting with Star. Who knows how bad traffic is—you need a time buffer."

I nodded slowly, feeling foolish. We needed to sit down and talk, but because of this trip, I just didn’t have the time for a proper conversation.

The worst part was not knowing how long I could be gone. It was a new development that felt unsettling—suddenly, I found myself without a Plan B. Before, I’d hoped we’d spend more time together on the trip, growing… closer. That was no longer an option.

"Damien, it really sucks leaving you alone like this. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?"

"Yeah. I’ll probably sleep through most of it anyway."

He looked away again, stubbornly avoiding my gaze. Something was wrong.

Since I was still sitting next to him, he sighed impatiently. "You really should go already. I want to get back to sleep," he murmured, turning onto his side. I felt even more stupid.

I didn’t want to push him or force a conversation right now. Especially since he was right—I had no idea what the roadwork situation was like on the way to Star’s town. I had to get going.

So, I got up and reluctantly went to the bathroom, washed up and changed into my street clothes.

When I peeked into the bedroom, he was lying on his side with his eyes closed. But I knew he wasn’t asleep.

"Damien—" I started, but he interrupted me again.

"Just go already, okay? There’s no need to drag this out."

That didn’t sound right. I clenched my lips. I wanted so badly to say more—to explain, to promise—but my mind was swirling. I couldn’t figure out what to say.

"Take care. I’ll be back this evening…"

And then he said it, "You don’t have to. The heat’s over. Your job’s done. Thanks for everything—we’re done here. Tomorrow, I have to get back to class. My life will go back to normal."

Wow…

I felt like I’d been hit over the head. So that’s how he saw it? This was just over? Was I right before, not bringing up a relationship between us because he wasn’t interested after all?

Or… was that heat recovery talking through him?

Damien pulled the covers tighter around himself, clearly signaling that he didn’t want me there or to discuss it further. I felt like an intruder.

But I knew I couldn’t just leave without saying anything—just walk off in silence. I hated the childish miscommunications I’d often had with Tom, so I said firmly, "Damien, I told you I keep my promises. I will be back so we can talk."

He stayed silent, so I could only hope my words were enough reassurance for him.

In a daze, I grabbed my things and left his apartment, feeling bad. My stomach tightened as if I had just drunk vodka—it was nauseous and heavy.

If it weren’t for this damn trip, I would’ve stayed and tried to talk to him—but time was running out.

Gritting my teeth, I made my way to the car, started the engine, and joined the traffic.

As I drove, a bitter throbbing pounded in my head, and a crushing pain weighed down my chest.

Was he afraid of my rejection and preferred to reject me first? I knew that tactic from my past—I’d used it myself many, many times.

Sure, I knew before that he didn't want someone who worked for a company like Dark Dreams, but that wasn't an issue anymore. Had I already tainted myself forever in his eyes? He'd made it clear before—a person with such a controversial job wasn't boyfriend material.

Boyfriend… that word.

That’s exactly what I wanted to be for him. And even more.

We didn’t know each other well yet, but what drew me to him was so powerful it didn’t matter—I believed with all my heart that we could make it work.

***