Naomi hadn't said a word all morning.
Damien noticed. He always did. She was present—physically—sitting across from him, sipping orange juice, her fork nudging scrambled eggs—but her mind was somewhere else entirely.
The sparkle in her eyes was still there, but dimmed by something she wasn't saying.
So, he did what he knew best—he tried to make her smile again.
"We're going out," Damien said, breaking the silence.
Naomi looked up. "Out?"
"Just us. Somewhere quiet. You'll love it."
She arched a brow. "Where?"
He smirked. "Surprise. Dress for something free... something blue."
Naomi blinked. "It's the beach, isn't it?"
He didn't answer. He just stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking out to make a quick call.
Two hours later, Naomi stood barefoot on the deck of a private yacht, the breeze tugging at her blue sundress. The sea stretched endlessly, glittering under the afternoon sun. Damien stood behind her, arms around her waist, chin resting lightly on her shoulder.
Naomi froze at the sight.
"This is your idea of 'going out'?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.
Damien raised his brows, unfazed. "What? It floats."
Naomi laughed—genuine, unexpected. "You're ridiculous."
"You're smiling," Damien pointed out, eyes gleaming. He helped her onto the deck.
The yacht carried them far from the shore, the ocean stretching wide around them, shimmering under the sun. The breeze tangled through Naomi's hair, and for the first time in days, she didn't think about the photo, the letter, or the strange woman from the cemetery.
It was just them.
They danced barefoot on the deck to a playlist Damien put together. He included songs Naomi loved, though he couldn't resist sneaking in a dramatic classical tune—just to watch her roll her eyes.
"You added that on purpose," she accused, laughing.
"Of course I did. But look at how cute you are when you're annoyed."
Later, they had lunch on the upper deck. Damien uncorked a bottle of wine, and between bites of grilled seafood and fresh fruit, they playfully argued about who'd survive longer if stranded on a deserted island.
"You'd last five hours, tops," Naomi teased, taking a sip of wine.
"Excuse me? I'm resourceful."
"You're scared of bugs."
"They don't like me either. It's a mutual respect."
They laughed, the tension of the last few days slipping away as they shared easy conversation and inside jokes.
As the sun began to set, casting golden light over the horizon, Damien reached into his pocket. Naomi's curiosity piqued.
"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the small velvet pouch in his hand.
"Relax," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Not a ring. You're already stuck with me."
Naomi laughed, then gasped softly when he opened the pouch, revealing a delicate sapphire bracelet. It sparkled in the light—simple yet elegant, like the sea.
"I thought… blue," he said softly. "It reminded me of you. Your eyes when you're mad at me."
She slipped the bracelet on, feeling its cool touch against her skin. Without thinking, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. "It's perfect."
Their kiss deepened—sweet at first, but soon it became more. His hands explored familiar paths, their laughter turning to gasps and soft moans as they stumbled into the cabin below deck.
That night, they moved like they were trying to hold each other together.
They didn't stop until the stars had taken over the sky.
Later, as the yacht docked in the evening, Naomi leaned into Damien, flushed and glowing, her fingers still tracing the smooth edge of the bracelet.
"Best surprise ever," she murmured against his chest.
Damien grinned and kissed her forehead. "Told you to trust me."
They pulled into the driveway just as the sky shifted to deep blue, the last light of day melting into shadows.
Damien stepped out first, then rounded the car to open her door. Naomi smiled at him, still riding the high of their perfect day. But then she saw it—no, him.
Tall. Built. Hair unkempt. His expression unreadable.
The man looked just like Damien—same sharp features, same dark eyes—but there was something more menacing about him. His grin widened as they approached.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't my dear brother," the man said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Damien didn't respond. His gaze locked on the man, eyes hard and unreadable. Naomi looked between them, confusion swirling in her mind. She'd heard about Damien's brother, of course. He'd always told her the same thing—his brother was in prison, someone he didn't like talking about. She'd assumed it was because he was a troublemaker.
She felt it instantly—the shift. Damien's hand tightened slightly around hers before letting go. His whole posture changed. Guarded. Cold.
"What are you doing here?" Damien's voice dropped, all the warmth from earlier gone.
"You didn't answer my messages," the man said, pushing off the pillar. "Figured I'd stop by."
"You're not supposed to be here."
The brother stepped forward, eyeing Naomi with an unsettling grin. "No greeting for your big brother, Damien?" he mocked. "That's no way to treat the guy who went to prison for you."
Naomi's heart skipped. "What?"
The man's grin widened at her reaction. "Yep. Took the fall. Years of my life—poof. All for your darling husband."
"Shut your mouth," Damien snapped.
"Why?" he asked innocently. "She deserves to know, doesn't she?"
He turned back to Naomi, opening his mouth to say something else—but he didn't get the chance.
Damien's fist collided with his jaw in a sickening crack, sending the man stumbling backward.
Naomi gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at Damien, her heart thundering.
He just punched his brother.
Right in front of her.
And suddenly, Naomi saw it—the cracks in the man she called perfect.