k his head. "Neither should you."
For a moment, the noise of the diner faded. It was just us—two people caught in a tangle of secrets and broken promises.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For everything. For not telling you sooner."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to tear down the walls between us. But years of silence and lies had left scars.
"Why now?" I asked, tears threatening to spill.
"Because you deserve the truth," he said, reaching out to brush a stray hair from my face.
His touch was gentle, but it sparked a storm inside me.
Amara's warning echoed in my mind: He's trapped. You're a pawn.
But maybe... maybe we could break free together.
Outside, the rain began to fall harder, washing away the night's shadows.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt hope flicker.
The rain pattered steadily against the diner windows as Damian and I sat in silence, the air thick with things left unsaid.
Finally, he spoke. "There's more, Zara. with a worn piano in the corner and photos lining the walls—smiling faces frozen in happier times.
"Who's this?" I asked, pointing to a woman in one photo.
"My mother," he said softly. "She died when I was seventeen."
His voice cracked, and for the first time, I saw the boy beneath the man.
"Why bring me here?" I asked.
"Because you're the first person I've trusted with this part of me."
We stood there in silence, the weight of his past settling between us.
And somehow, it made everything feel less broken.
I swallowed hard, the silence stretching between us. Damian's vulnerability was a rare crack in the armor he wore so well.
"I never told anyone," he admitted, eyes fixed on the worn piano keys. "Not even my sister. After Mom died, everything changed. Dad disappeared into work, and I was left to figure out who I was without her."
I to unravel the threads that bound us.