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Chapter 88 – Damon's POV
"The Silence Between Us"
Something was off.
From the moment I stepped through the front door, I felt it. Like walking into a room where a candle had just been blown out—there was no fire, just smoke in the air.
"Arya?" I called softly.
She was in the kitchen, wearing one of my oversized shirts, stirring something in a pot that had already begun to boil over. The smell of tomato and pepper filled the room, but she didn't move to fix it. Her eyes were distant.
"Hey…" I crossed the kitchen slowly, placing my briefcase down. "Everything okay?"
She didn't look up. "Dinner's almost ready."
Short. Flat. No smile. No kiss. No warmth.
I frowned, stepping closer. "You didn't return my messages today."
"I was tired."
I paused, then placed a hand gently on her back. She stiffened under my touch like I was a stranger.
That's when the first pang of dread hit me.
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Something had changed in the past few days. Subtle things.
She laughed less. Slept earlier. Avoided eye contact. Her phone was always face-down. She didn't ask how my trip went, and she didn't lean into my chest at night like she always used to.
Now she lay curled on the opposite side of the bed, pretending to be asleep before I even walked in.
And the worst part? I had no idea why.
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"Did I… do something wrong?" I asked gently.
She stirred the sauce again, still refusing to look at me.
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
I took a breath. "Arya—"
"I said I'm fine, Damon." Her voice was sharp now, and she dropped the spoon into the pot a little too hard. Tomato splattered on the counter.
I stared at her profile—at the tight set of her jaw, the stiffness in her shoulders, the sadness in her silence.
She wasn't fine.
And I didn't need her to say it to know it was about Sophia.
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Was this about her showing up at the office?
No… if it was, Arya would've confronted me. She wasn't the type to bottle things up—at least, not anymore. Unless…
Unless someone told her something.
Unless someone showed her something.
My chest tightened.
Did Sophia say something? Or worse… send something?
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I cleaned up the spilled sauce and set the table without another word. She served Liam, kissed his cheek, and helped him to the living room like nothing was wrong. But the way she avoided looking at me was louder than any argument we'd ever had.
During dinner, I tried again.
"How was your day?"
She sipped water. "Uneventful."
"Did the baby give you trouble?"
"A little."
"Need me to pick up anything tomorrow?"
"No."
Liam looked between us like he could sense it too—the invisible wall forming between his mom and me. He tried to lighten the mood, cracking a joke about my burnt pancakes last weekend, and Arya smiled—but it didn't reach her eyes.
That smile used to be mine.
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Later, after Liam had gone to bed, I found her in the bathroom, brushing her hair. Her reflection in the mirror didn't soften when she saw me behind her.
I stood in the doorway, unsure if I should speak.
But I had to.
"Arya," I said, voice low, "please talk to me."
She didn't answer. Just kept brushing.
"I know something's wrong. You've barely looked at me in days."
Her hand froze mid-brush.
"What happened?"
Still, she said nothing.
I stepped closer. "Is this about Sophia?"
A flicker of something passed through her eyes in the mirror.
"I didn't invite her," I said. "She showed up—unannounced—at my office, and again on the trip. I didn't ask for it, Arya."
"You also didn't tell me," she whispered.
My breath caught.
She knew.
And she was hurting in silence.
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"I didn't think it mattered," I admitted. "I told her we were over. That there was no place for her in my life anymore. I made it clear."
"But you didn't tell me," she repeated, louder this time. She finally turned to face me. "Why, Damon? Why did I have to find out from someone else?"
I stepped forward. "Because I didn't want to bring her into us again. I didn't want to give her any power to touch what we've rebuilt."
"You should've trusted me with that," she said, eyes shining. "Not protected me from it like I'm fragile."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I thought I was doing the right thing."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then turned away.
"I need space tonight."
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The ache in my chest deepened.
"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.
"No," she said softly, not meeting my eyes. "Just… not now."
I nodded and left the room quietly, her silence clinging to me like a shadow.
In the dark hallway, I sat down, hands in my hair, heart heavy.
I had chosen her. Every single day since she came back.
But this—this silence?
This was the price of not choosing honesty too.
And now I just had to hope it wasn't too late to fix it.
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End of Chapter 88 – Damon's POV