By the time he struck your face three days before the wedding, you had already learned how to hold frozen peas against your skin without crying too loudly.
You looked at the officer.
“I want to file a report.”
Your mother gasped softly from the corner.
You didn’t look at her.
The officer nodded.
Damian, standing just outside the door, closed his eyes for one brief second.
Like he had been waiting for you to choose yourself before he moved.
That night, you did not go home.
Damian arranged a private suite in the hospital and posted two security guards outside the door. You wanted to argue, but the nurse told you Leonardo’s men had already called three times asking for your room number.
So you stayed.
At midnight, your mother fell asleep in a chair, face swollen from crying.
You stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
Every time you closed your eyes, you heard Leonardo whispering at the altar.
Smile.
Do not embarrass me.
A soft knock came.
Damian stood in the doorway.
His black suit jacket was gone. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms. For the first time, he looked less like a headline and more like a man who had been carrying something heavy for a long time.
“May I come in?” he asked.
That question almost made you cry.
May I.
Leonardo never asked permission for anything.
You nodded.
Damian stepped inside but stayed near the door.
“Your doctor said you’re stable.”
“That’s a generous word.”
His mouth moved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
“Fair.”
Silence settled.
You looked at him.
