Chapter 2

2 It took three full days for Damian to finally remember the fiancée he had cast aside.

When he stepped through the front door, his jaw was clenched tight, clearly prepared for me to throw things or scream at him.

I merely glanced up from the sofa and said in a deadpan voice:

"You're back."

My lack of reaction seemed to irritate him even more:

"What's with the dirty look? I just made you wait a little longer than usual. Was it really necessary to say all that nasty crap over the phone? Threatening to break up with me―who do you think you're scaring?"

He had disappeared for days, only to pick a fight the second he walked in.

Exhaustion weighed down every limb:

"Sorry. I've been too drained lately to put on a show for you."

Damian's expression darkened instantly, his gaze dripping with mockery:

"Who taught you to talk with so much attitude?"

Right then, I realized there was no winning.

He came home looking for a fight, and nothing I said would ever be right.

So I decided to stay silent.

Seeing my refusal to engage, his voice shot up an octave:

"What, feeling sorry for yourself? Who the hell are you giving the silent treatment to?"

A wave of helplessness washed over me. What did he actually want from me?

While the tension hung thick in the air, the front door clicked open again, and Cecelia walked in:

"Sasha, please don't fight with Damian because of me. Everything is my fault."

"It's all because my stomach acted up. If it weren't for me, you two would have picked up the rings by now. If you want to hit me or yell at me, do it. I deserve it."

As she spoke, fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.

Damian's face softened instantly with intense concern:

"Sasha, that's enough. Cecelia came all the way here to apologize to you in person. What more do you want?"

I let out a soft, humorless laugh.

Who did she think she was? Did an apology from her require me to drop to my knees in gratitude?

I was sick of their pathetic performance:

"Right, I should be thrilled. After all, making your precious little darling cry is the ultimate crime on my part."

"Stop wasting your breath on me and go comfort your baby girl in bed, or she might cry until tomorrow morning."

Before I could finish my sentence, Damian's hand flew across the air and struck me with a loud, sharp crack.

The stinging blow echoed through the room, leaving my cheek burning like fire.

I stood frozen in place, stunned into silence.

Damian looked startled by his own action for a brief second, but his pride quickly took over as he doubled down:

"Sasha! You're just jealous because Cecelia has parents who actually love her, unlike you, who got dumped here alone for years! That's why you grew up to be such an unreasonable, bitter psycho!"

My breath hitched in my chest.

I still remembered our high school days, when he had pulled me into a tight embrace under the warm afternoon sun:

"Don't worry! If your parents aren't around, I'll take care of you! As long as I'm here, nobody will ever lay a finger on you!"

Oh, Damian. If the person hurting me is you, where am I supposed to run?

The vulnerabilities I had once shared in confidence had now become the very daggers he used to gut me.

How pathetic I had been.

At this point, arguing felt entirely pointless.

I silently turned around and began tossing my clothes into a suitcase.

Seeing my packed bags, panic flickered across his face:

"Where do you think you're going?!"

Without looking up, I zipped my bag:

"I don't know, but anywhere is better than here."

My quiet defiance seemed to strike a nerve in him. After a tense silence, his tone softened slightly:

"I lost my temper earlier, but you pushed me to the edge. Cecelia is innocent and pure. She doesn't have your dirty, manipulative mind, so how could you talk about her like that?"

I couldn't help but smile:

"She's pure, you're pure, and I'm the only filthy one here. So isn't my leaving the best thing for everyone?"