The night was quiet, but Eliana's mind was anything but. Sleep had become a stranger, slipping further from her reach the more she tossed and turned. Her fingers brushed over the music box on her nightstand as its faint melody replayed in her mind. No matter how many times she closed her eyes, her thoughts circled back to Damon—his words, his apology, his presence.
The mansion breathed a hushed stillness. As if everyone had finally given in to slumber. Everyone but her.
Unable to take it anymore, she slipped out of bed, threw on a shawl, and padded barefoot down the hallway. The marble floors were cold against her feet. She thought maybe some fresh air would clear her head.
But as she stepped into the courtyard, she wasn't alone.
Damon stood by the garden fountain, sleeves rolled up, hands tucked into his trouser pockets. The soft orange glow of the path lights danced across his face, casting shadows that only added to the weariness etched into his features.
Their eyes met.
Eliana froze.
"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked softly, voice rough from silence.
She stepped forward slowly, wrapping the shawl tighter around herself. "No. Too much on my mind."
"I came down to get a drink, actually."
Damon asked immediately. "What would you like? Water, wine, juice?"
She blinked, a little surprised. "Just water is fine."
He returned quickly, handing her a glass with quiet care. Their fingers brushed. She didn't pull away.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He nodded, his gaze flickering to the stars for a brief moment. "Same here."
A long silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just... delicate. Like a string pulled taut between two hearts.
Damon looked at her then, something softer in his eyes. "About earlier… breakfast. I shouldn't have snapped. I'm sorry."
She studied him. "You don't owe me an apology for being hurt. I asked questions you weren't ready to answer."
He frowned. "Still, I shouldn't have raised my voice. You didn't deserve that."
A breeze passed between them, rustling the leaves.
"I went out today," she said. "To the beach. And then... the foundation."
His brows rose slightly.
"I didn't go in," she added. "But I watched from a distance. There was this woman—she hugged me once. I remembered it today. She said I saved her."
Emotion flickered across Damon's face. Pride. Relief. "You did. You helped a lot of women back then. You threw yourself into it like it was your lifeline."
"Maybe it was," she whispered.
Damon turned to face her fully now. "Are you thinking of returning?"
She nodded, eyes steady. "Next week. I think... it might help me heal. Maybe give me purpose again."
He smiled faintly. "You sure you're ready?"
"I don't know. But I'm tired of being afraid of the answers."
He took a hesitant step forward. "Then I'll support you. Whatever you need. You've got me."
She looked up at him, and for a moment, the air changed.
Eliana sipped her water, then looked at him. "And… business? How's that going?"
Damon exhaled, leaning back. "Busy as always. But manageable." Then he added, voice gentler, "Your parents' debt? It's gone. Forgotten. They owe me nothing. Neither do you."
Her eyes widened, heart stuttering.
"You were never a transaction to me, Eliana. Not anymore."
Eliana's breath caught in her throat.
She looked at him, really looked at him—at the softness in his eyes, the vulnerability in his tone. For a heartbeat, she didn't see the cold, calculating man who had trapped her in a deal. She saw a man who was trying, struggling, hoping.
Her voice came out quiet, hesitant.
"I want to believe that…" she said, almost to herself.
"But it's hard. Everything I remember is tangled with pain."
Damon nodded slowly. "I know. And I don't expect forgiveness overnight. I just want to be honest from now on. You deserve that."
She studied him for a long moment. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.
"One step at a time," she murmured.
"If I stay… if I let this continue, I need more than gestures. I need actions, Damon."
He held her gaze, a flicker of hope in his chest.
"Then I'll give you actions. As many as it takes."
Their eyes locked. She saw the way his chest rose a little faster. The way his gaze lingered just a second too long on her lips. Her breath caught.
"Damon..."
He blinked, stepping back just enough to break the spell.
"I'm not going to kiss you," he said, his voice trembling with restraint. "Not unless you want me to."
She let out a shaky breath. "I thought you were."
He smiled, just barely. "I wanted to. But you're not ready. And that matters to me."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but her heart pounded in her chest.
"I want you to know," she said quietly as she handed him the glass, "that even though I don't trust you yet, even though I'm still figuring out what all of this means... I've decided to stay."
He stared at her, something like hope flickering in his eyes.
"Not because it's easy," she continued. "But because I want to see if you can earn my trust."
"I will," he said instantly, like a vow. "I promise you, Eliana."
There was a long pause.
Then Damon asked, softly, "Would you have dinner with me tomorrow? Just the two of us. Not as husband and wife. Just... as two people trying to start again."
Her lips twitched into the faintest smile. "Alright. dinner it is."
He took another step closer, slowly.
"May I?" he asked, lifting a hand halfway between them.
Eliana hesitated, her heart skittering in her chest. "What are you going to do?"
He didn't move further. "I want to say goodnight. That's all."
She nodded. He leaned forward gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut at the warmth of it. And then he pulled her into a hug.
It wasn't forceful. It wasn't possessive.
It was just... safe.
"Goodnight, Eliana," he whispered.
"Goodnight," she breathed back.
She pulled away slowly, her fingers brushing against his arm as she turned. She walked back toward her room, but paused outside her door.
She turned around.
He wasn't behind her anymore.
Her fingers brushed her lips. Her heart ached.
Butterflies danced in her stomach, but so did fear.
Inside her room, she leaned against the closed door, sliding down to the floor with a sigh.
Confused. Hopeful. Terrified.
Downstairs, Damon sat alone again in the living room, elbows on his knees, eyes distant.
He thought about her words. Her trust. Her decision to stay.
He thought about the kiss he didn't give.
He wanted her.
But more than that, he wanted to be worthy of her.
"One step at a time," he whispered to himself.
And with that thought, he finally rose and walked back to his chambers, heart heavier... but full of a new kind of hope