CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A DOOR HE NEVER OPENED
Damien arrived earlier than yesterday.
Aria wasn't surprised anymore.
What surprised her was that she was getting used to it.
He stood at her door at exactly eight-thirty, holding a small bag in one hand and balancing a stuffed dinosaur under his arm with the other. His hair was slightly messy, tie loose around his neck, as if he had rushed and dressed at the same time.
Before Aria could speak, Eli barreled out from behind her, crashing into Damien's legs.
"Daddy! Daddy! Look—I made you something!"
Damien barely had time to react before Eli was thrusting a crumpled paper into his hands.
"What's this?" Damien asked, unfolding it carefully.
"It's us!" Eli declared proudly.
"That's me… and that's Mommy… and that's you!"
Damien stared at the picture—three round stick figures holding hands, smiling under a crooked sun.
His breath hitched.
Barely noticeable.
But Aria noticed.
She watched his expression soften in ways she wasn't ready for. He crouched and lifted Eli into his arms like he weighed nothing.
"Thank you," he said, voice a little husky.
Eli giggled and touched Damien's cheek.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it," Damien said quietly.
Aria's heart twisted.
He held the drawing as if it were worth more than everything he owned.
And maybe, to him, it was.
Eli played with his new dinosaur on the living room carpet while Aria finished preparing breakfast. Damien leaned against the counter, watching her with a quiet look she pretended not to notice.
"You're tired," he said softly.
She kept stirring the eggs.
"I'll survive."
"Aria," he said, stepping closer, tone deeper, "you don't have to do everything alone anymore."
She stiffened.
"Damien—"
"I mean it."
His voice wasn't demanding this time.
It wasn't pushing or cornering her.
It was gentle.
Steady.
And that made it harder to reject.
She placed the spatula down and faced him.
"I've been doing it alone for three years," she said quietly.
"I don't just switch that off."
He nodded slowly, as though absorbing every word.
"I'm not asking you to switch it off," he said.
"I'm asking you to let me stand beside you."
Her breath snagged—but before she could answer, Eli shouted from the living room.
"Daddy! Look! My dinosaur can fly!"
Damien chuckled quietly and moved toward him, leaving Aria alone with her thoughts.
Thoughts she wanted to avoid.
Thoughts she had no idea how to escape.
After breakfast, Aria decided they could take Eli to the bookstore—one of his favorite places. Damien agreed instantly, offering to drive.
Eli chattered nonstop in the car, waving his dinosaur around as though it were some magical creature. Damien listened attentively, responding to every story, every exaggerated detail, every sudden burst of excitement.
Aria watched them—from the corner of her eye.
It wasn't just the bond forming between them.
It was the way Damien was changing in front of her.
Or maybe the way he was letting her see the parts he had always hidden.
At the bookstore, Eli ran toward the children's section. Damien followed, not even pretending to hide the awe on his face as Eli picked out book after book.
Aria watched from a few steps behind.
At one point, Damien knelt beside Eli, holding up two books.
"This one has dinosaurs," he said, "but this one glows in the dark. Which do you want?"
Eli bit his lip, torn.
"Um… both?"
Damien laughed—a full, unrestrained sound Aria hadn't heard from him in years.
"Both it is."
Aria stepped forward.
"Damien, he doesn't need—"
"It's fine," Damien said softly.
"But—"
He turned to her, eyes gentle.
"Let me do this," he murmured.
"For him."
The protest died in her throat.
Because the way he said it wasn't arrogant.
It wasn't controlling.
It wasn't trying to replace anything or anyone.
It was simply… love.
Back at her apartment, Eli was down for his nap when Damien paused by the hallway.
"This door," he said, nodding toward a closed one, "is that his room?"
Aria nodded.
"Yes."
He swallowed.
"Can I… see it?"
Her chest tightened.
She almost said no.
Almost told him it didn't matter.
But it did.
So she nodded.
Damien pushed the door open slowly.
It wasn't a fancy room—just soft blue paint, a small bed, shelves filled with picture books, stuffed animals, and tiny shoes lined up neatly near the dresser. Drawings were taped to the wall. A nightlight shaped like a moon sat on the dresser.
Damien walked inside as though stepping into something sacred.
He touched the bookshelf.
The bedspread.
The tiny shoes.
His voice, when it finally came, was barely audible.
"I missed all of this."
Aria swallowed hard.
"You didn't know," she whispered.
"I should have," he said quietly.
"I should've fought for more. Asked more. Stayed longer. Tried harder."
She stepped closer—not touching him, but close enough to be felt.
"You're here now," she said softly.
Damien turned to her slowly.
And the look in his eyes—
Raw. Deep. Breaking.
"I want a place in his life," he said.
"A real place."
"You have that," she murmured.
He shook his head.
"I want more than that," he said.
"I want to be someone he depends on. Someone he runs to. Someone he trusts."
Her breath wavered.
"And you," he added quietly.
"I want a place in your life too."
Aria froze.
Damien took a small, careful step toward her.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness tonight," he said.
"I'm asking for a chance to earn something better."
Her pulse trembled.
"Damien," she whispered, "this is moving too fast."
He nodded.
"I know."
But then he leaned in just enough that his breath brushed her temple—not touching, but dangerously close.
"I'll slow down," he murmured.
"If you ask me to."
She closed her eyes, breath weak.
"Do you want me to?" he whispered.
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Fragile.
Aria didn't answer.