EVA's POV
Three weeks.
It had been three weeks since that night — since he ripped my heart open and walked away like it meant nothing.
And in those three weeks, I hadn't seen Damien once.
I stepped out for air at 3 a.m when there was no one around, I wandered the woods to breathe without crying, and definitely locked myself in this suffocating guest room pretending that I was fine.
Because I wasn't. I was breaking every day and every hour.
But I had made up my mind. Today, I would stop clinging to the shards of a lie.
I stepped out of the room and headed toward his office—where I knew he'd be. My steps felt heavier than usual, like my body was warning me that this conversation would be the final cut.
Maybe it would finally kill the last stupid piece of me that still hoped.
When I opened the door, there he was—standing near the window, the light casting sharp shadows on his face. He didn't turn when I entered, didn't even spare a single glance.
