Ava didn't sleep that night. She just couldn't.
She sat on the edge of the bed long after the rain had stopped, long after Damien's car had disappeared into the garage and the house had fallen into silence. Her thoughts were louder than any storm. She'd seen violence before. But not like that. Not from someone who looked at her like she was fragile porcelain, then turned around and nearly crushed a man's windpipe without blinking.
She didn't know which version of Damien was real, and that terrified her more than anything else.
Feeling thirsty, she reached for the bottle of water always kept at her bedside table, only to find it empty the moment her hand touched it. She cursed softly under her breath, realizing then that Emily hadn't been by to refill it, but of course she hadn't. Ava had told her not to come into her room anymore. She sighed, conflicted, and laid on the bed wanting to ignore her thirst but she changed her mind and finally stood on her feet. She slid on her platform slippers, wrapped a robe around herself, grabbed the empty bottle, and stepped out of her room.
The house was unnervingly quiet. It was almost midnight and she was sure everyone had retired for the night. The midnight crept along the halls like a patient predator. The kind of stillness that made you feel watched even when you were alone. She padded down the grand staircase and made her way to the kitchen, past the dining room, where only faint shadows lingered like guests who hadn't left.
Inside the kitchen, the cold hit her first. It felt as though it hadn't been used all day, and judging by the absence of any lingering aroma which meant Damien, like her, had missed dinner too. She walked towards the fridge, opened it, grabbed a new bottle of water, and began to fill hers. As she did, her stomach rumbled, loud enough to make her glance at the door instinctively.
She hadn't realized how hungry she was.
Opening the fridge again, she scanned its contents. There were only fruits. She grabbed an apple, but another growl from her stomach told her it wouldn't be enough. Sighing, she put it back and gathered a few ingredients to make a sandwich, something simple. Bread, cheese, lettuce, a bit of mustard.
She moved around the kitchen methodically, and once done, she poured herself a glass of juice and returned to the dining room. She sat in a chair that faced away from the kitchen, allowing herself a brief moment of peace. Her first bite was heavenly. She hadn't realized how starved she was until the flavors hit her tongue. She hummed in satisfaction as she took another bite.
As she ate, she heard something. It was footsteps. They were soft and measured.
They stopped just as quickly as they came.
Ava froze mid-chew, her senses suddenly heightened. She stopped chewing for a while to listen and heard nothing anymore. There was just the distant ticking of the old grandfather clock in the foyer.
She returned to her food, brushing off the anxiety, but before she could take her last bite, the footsteps returned. This time it was sounder and nearer and steady, it was coming beside her. Ava stopped chewing and turned back slowly, her mouth stuffed.
Damien was standing beside her.
He looked nothing like before, gone was that mad look in his eyes. It was just him, in his nightwear, holding a glass of juice. A stark contrast to the man who had nearly ended a life hours earlier. His expression shifted when he saw her, first unreadable, then vaguely amused at the sight of her wide eyes and stuffed cheeks.
Ava was surprised.
"I thought you were asleep," he said, staying at a reasonable distance from her.
"I came down to get water," she said, her voice small as she swallowed her food. "I got hungry." She added when his eyes flicked to the last bite of the sandwich still in her hand.
He nodded, turning slightly as if preparing to leave. Ava hesitated, then spoke up.
"Did you come downstairs because you were hungry too?"
Damien turned back around. "I guess."
"Do you want a sandwich? I can make you one."
He gave her a look she couldn't read before walking toward the dining table and sitting down. She rose, returned to the kitchen, and silently prepared another sandwich. When she placed it before him and turned to leave, something in her paused.
She turned back and sat opposite him.
"I have questions."
Damien met her gaze but said nothing.
"Do you know about my mom?" She shook her head. "No. Wrong question. How do you know about my mom?"
He didn't flinch. "I had a background check run before the marriage. It was necessary."
Her jaw clenched. "Did you pay her hospital bills?"
"Shouldn't I have?"
"No," she said, voice rising slightly. "You don't have the right. Just because we're married on paper doesn't mean you get to make decisions like that. There are boundaries, Damien. And you crossed one."
"Ava…"
"No. I hate the fact more than anything, that you know everything about me and I know nothing about you."
He was quiet for a moment and then he asked, "What do you want to know?"
She was dumbfounded for a second. "That's not…" she started, but the words fell flat. She wanted to ask about the so-called curse, the darkness she'd been dancing around since the day she stepped into this mansion. But the truth felt too big for her mouth and she wasn't sure she wanted to know that much.
So she asked, "Do you have me monitored?"
"No."
"Then how did you know where I was tonight? How did you know I was in danger? That I was about to be abducted?"
His voice was low. "I'm trying to protect you."
"What are you saying?" Ava asked. "Protect me from what? From who exactly?"
"Ava, listen to me. You don't want to know that. The real danger starts the moment you do."
She leaned forward, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't want your protection. I want the truth. If you really want to protect me, how about you start by being honest. What are you protecting me from?"
Damien stared at her in silence with an unreadable expression on his face. Ava stared back at him and couldn't decipher what she saw in those gray eyes.
Then, slowly, he reached out. His fingers moved to brush a loose strand of hair that had fallen near her cheek but Ava flinched and moved away from his hands.
His hand froze midair.
She stared at him, shocked, her breath caught in her throat. He had no look on his face, he just stared expressionless, and for a moment, they just watched each other, the air between them stretched and brittle.
Damien stood up.
"You don't trust me enough to know the truth," he said quietly.
"You don't give me a reason to," she whispered back.
He didn't argue. He just looked at her one last time, then turned.
"Goodnight," he said while walking.
Ava didn't know what to say or how to react. She sat there long after he was gone, staring at the untouched sandwich he had left behind.