Chapter 22
DAYS LATER
ROSALIE
31%
(+23)
Days had passed since Damien nearly fired Margaret and Maria, and though I still refused to speak to him, I couldn’t ignore how different he had been since that day. It was as if he had turned into a different person overnight–softer, quieter, and, most surprisingly, considerate.
Every morning, like clockwork, he would walk into the room just after sunrise. I would feel his arms slide under me, and without a word, he would carry me out to the garden. At first, I protested weakly, but he didn’t seem to care about my silent disapproval. He insisted I needed fresh air and the warmth of the morning sun, saying it would help with my recovery.
“I don’t want you cooped up inside all day,” he’d said one morning, his voice soft but firm. “It’s not good for you.”
It was strange seeing him like this–no demands, no harsh orders, just… calm. He would sit with me there, sometimes in silence, other times trying to start conversations I refused to entertain. I knew my silence frustrated him; I could see it in the way his jaw clenched or his fingers fidgeted. But he never pushed me. He never raised his voice or forced me to answer him.
I didn’t know what to make of it. I guess the secret to breaking down the coldness in his heart for me, was to stop talking to him and to ignore him.
The Damien I knew was controlling and cruel, a man who seemed to thrive on my discomfort. The man who had locked me out of his house that night in the cold wasn’t someone who cared if I got sick. And yet, this new Damien was nothing like that.
Now, every time he brought me a meal, he would wait patiently for me to eat, often feeding me himself when I was too weak to lift the spoon. His hands were gentle, his tone soothing as he coaxed me to eat.
I wanted to snap at him, to remind him that he was the reason for my painty.
And yet, there was something disarming about his persistence. The way he would hover around me, trying to anticipate my needs, trying to make up for… everything. It was unsettling, to say the least. I didn’t trust it.
I hated that part of me wanted to believe he could change. That maybe, just maybe, this was real. But then, another part of me screamed not to fall for it.
He was still my bully. I couldn’t forget that, no matter how much he softened now.
I was still sitting on the couch in the living room, staring out the window. The light from the late evening sun poured in, soft and warm, but it did little to melt the cold knot sitting in my chest, so I just sat there, letting the quiet of the house wrap around me.
Just then, I heard the sound of footsteps before I saw him. Damien. He walked into the room, his presence filling it as always. I didn’t bother to look at him directly, but I felt his gaze on me, lingering.
“Hey,” he said softly. His voice was warm, tentative, like he was testing the waters.
I glanced at him briefly, then turned my attention back to the window. He walked over, crouched in front of me, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. The gesture was so gentle it startled me. I didn’t pull away, but I didn’t react either.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
I nodded, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. It wasn’t a lie–I wasn’t feeling worse–but I wasn’t ready to tell him
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19:39 Mon, 17 Feb 0
Chapter 22
anything more.
+23
He smiled, a small curve of his lips that looked almost relieved. “Good. How has Maria and Margaret been to you? Have they been taking good care of you?” He asked.
I nodded. A wide smile played on his lips.
“Great. Rosalie….“He paused, sitting back on his heels for a moment before continuing. “I, uh, heard about this art exhibition and auction tonight. It starts at eight. Would you like to come with me?”
I blinked, surprised by the question. He’d never invited me kindly anywhere before, it was always a command not a request. My first instinct was to say no, to reject the idea outright. But then I hesitated.
Part of me wanted to leave the house for once, to see something outside these walls. And maybe, just maybe, I was curious to see what Damien would be like outside of this strange, quiet version of our lives.
I nodded again, slowly this time, meeting his eyes.
His smile grew wider, lighting up his face in a way that seemed genuine. “Great,” he said, standing up and brushing his hands against his pants. “Then we’d better get you ready.”
Before I could say a word–or even think of what to say–he leaned down and scooped me up into his arms. It was so sudden, I let out a small gasp, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Damien-” I started, but he cut me off with a soft laugh.
“You’ll need help getting dressed, won’t you?” he said as he carried me toward the stairs. “I figured I’d save you the trouble of walking. Doctor’s orders and all that.”
I frowned slightly, not liking the assumption, but I stayed quiet. It wasn’t worth arguing over something so small. His grip was steady, and despite everything, I felt… safe. It was an odd feeling, one I wasn’t sure I trusted.
As he carried me into the bedroom, he set me down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “Take your time,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
With that, he stepped back, giving me one last look before leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and I was left alone, staring at the empty space where he had stood.
I took a deep breath, trying to sort through the mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Damien’s kindness–if that’s what it was–still felt foreign to me. I wasn’t sure if I could trust it, but for tonight, maybe I could give in.
I really wondered what this art exhibition would hold for the both of us?
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