Abigail's eyes froze on Damian the instant he stepped into the room. The air seemed to vanish from her lungs, her entire body stiffening as if she had seen a phantom rise from the grave. Her lips parted in disbelief, but no words escaped. For a moment, she truly believed her mind was playing tricks on her.
No… no, this is not real.
But there he was, tall and unyielding, his presence as undeniable as the shadows cast by the lamps. Time itself felt suspended. Her pulse roared in her ears, and her vision swam with memories she had long buried. High school laughter. Stolen moments at the university. The pain of sudden absence. The whispered rumors of prison, disgrace, chains that swallowed him whole.
And yet… he was here. Alive. Free.
Her hands trembled so badly she pressed them against her dress to keep them steady. Her throat went dry, but questions screamed within her: How did he get out? Why now? How can he stand here in front of me, as if the years and scars between us never existed?
Damian standing close by, could not hide his shock either. His eyes widened, his jaw slack. His glance moved from Abigail to his father.
A strange current surged into the atmosphere.
The silence was unbearable, the kind that thickened until it felt like a weight pressing down on every chest.
Mr. Jacob noticed it instantly. A man who thrived on control, he never allowed tension to go unchallenged. His gaze swept across his son and wife then he spoke sharp and commanding. "Do you two know each other?" His voice, low but cutting, shattered the stillness.
Neither Abigail nor Damian answered. Abigail's lips quivered, but fear and shock tied her tongue. Damian's eyes, cold and unreadable, remained fixed on the floor.
Mr. Jacob's brow furrowed. His tone hardened, reverberating like iron striking stone. "I said do you two know each other?"
Abigail flinched. The sound of his voice forced her out of her haze. Slowly, painfully, she turned toward him. Her voice trembled, broken by the weight of confession.
"Yes… we knew each other," she whispered. "We were friends back in high school. And again at the university. But…" She hesitated, her eyes flicking helplessly toward Damian, searching for answers he would not give. "But I never knew… I never knew he was your son."
Mr. Jacob's gaze shifted to Damian. His expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed a thousand unspoken calculations.
Damian finally stirred. His chin lifted slightly, his voice calm but edged with restraint. "It's true. We used to be close."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unshed memories and unsaid truths. Abigail's heart clenched painfully. His tone was flat, his expression impassive, but she knew Damian well enough to sense the storm buried beneath the surface. He was holding back.
And then, without another word—Damian turned.
The sound of his footsteps echoed, each step steady, deliberate, final. Abigail's breath caught, her fingers twitching as though to reach for him. She wanted to call out his name, to plead for him to stop, but fear sealed her lips. What right did she have to summon him now, after all these years, under the watchful eyes of Mr. Jacob?
She could only watch him walk away, the distance between them stretching with every heartbeat.
The door closed behind him with a muted click. Silence rushed back in, but it was no longer hollow—it was suffocating, poisoned with questions and regrets.
"What… what was that?" Mr Jacob said breaking the silence his voice cracked, unsteady, as his eyes darted at Abigail "Why did it feel like you two were hiding something?"
Abigail pressed her lips together, fighting to steady herself. She could not bring herself to answer. Her mind was a tempest of memories—Damian's smile, Damian's pain, Damian's chains, His gentle kisses and hugs. She had buried him in the past, but the grave had split open tonight.
Mr. Jacob however, did not miss a thing. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied Abigail's trembling hands, the faint crack in her voice. Without saying any words to her he walked out.
The garden felt fragile, as though one wrong word would shatter it completely.
And then…
The sound was soft, but it sliced to connect threads he didn't understand. And Mr.Jacob's eyes gleamed with suspicion, his sharp mind already dissecting the hidden ties between his son and this woman who stood before him.
The storm was only Beginning.