Naomi couldn't sleep. Not because the bed was uncomfortable — it was luxurious, soft, familiar. It just wasn't comforting anymore. Not after last night.
Naomi's eyes snapped open as a dull ache bloomed low in her belly. Here we go again, she muttered under her breath, curling tighter into herself. The ache twisted and pulsed, demanding attention. With a sigh, she shifted slowly, turning onto her stomach and resting her head on the soft pillow, hoping the pressure would ease the cramps. The cool sheets felt comforting against her skin, but the ache lingered stubbornly, a reminder that her body wasn't quite on her side today.
She had tossed and turned until the early hours, mind racing through letters, photographs, and the sudden reappearance of Damien's brother. Her perfect husband suddenly looked like a stranger… and yet, not. That was the worst part. She still loved him, but she couldn't ignore the cracks anymore.
When the sun finally crept through the curtains, Naomi lay frozen under the sheets, pretending. Pretending to sleep. Pretending everything was fine. Pretending she didn't feel the uncomfortable warmth of her period starting. Of course. Because cramps were exactly what she needed on top of this chaos.
She bit back a groan, curling tighter into herself. Her body ached, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in her chest.
Damien stirred beside her. She felt his hand brush her back gently, then pull away as if unsure.
A pause.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Naomi didn't move.
"For last night," he added, voice a little rough. "I shouldn't have shouted. I just… I wasn't expecting him."
His words hung between them. She knew he meant his brother, but it felt like there was more behind that sentence. So much more he wasn't saying.
Still, she stayed quiet. Not because she wasn't hurt, but because she didn't know how to respond without unraveling everything.
Damien's voice was softer now, almost cautious. "I've told them to get the jet ready. But we don't have to rush. We'll leave when you're ready."
She gave the tiniest nod. It was all she could manage.
Damien got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of the shower filled the room.
Naomi lay there, staring at the ceiling, her hand gently resting on her stomach. The cramps were getting worse.
By the time Damien stepped back into the room, towel around his waist and hair wet, she was sitting up against the headboard with a faint wince on her face.
He paused in the doorway, reading her expression instantly. "Cramps?"
She nodded, her face scrunching slightly. "Of course my uterus would pick today to betray me."
Damien crossed to her quickly but gently, as if unsure how close to come. "Do you want me to get you something? Hot towel? Warm tea? Painkillers? Or should I just light a candle and pray?"
Naomi cracked a small smile. "Unless the chef can make me a new uterus, I doubt anything will help."
He grinned at her sass. "Challenge accepted."
Before she could ask what he meant, he was already heading out of the room.
A few minutes later, Damien returned, carefully balancing a tray with two steaming mugs and a small plate of dark chocolate squares. "We have the good stuff," he said with a wink. "Imported, obviously. Supposed to help with cramps — that's not me talking, that's science."
Naomi blinked at the tray, impressed despite herself. "You googled period hacks, didn't you?"
"I might've," he said, handing her a mug. "Also, I value my life. And right now, you're the boss."
She took a sip of the tea — chamomile, her favorite — and sighed. "Okay, this helps."
He sat beside her, picking up his own mug. "So, when we get back to the city… I'll be heading back to the office. The board's probably ready to kill me for disappearing this long."
Naomi raised a brow. "Oh no, the billionaire CEO took a break. How scandalous."
He chuckled. "I know, right? Might have to buy them all sports cars to keep them quiet."
She smiled, relaxing a little more as the tea settled in her belly.
"What about you?" he asked, nudging her gently. "Back to the glamorous life of blogging?"
Naomi rolled her eyes. "Please. It's not glamorous. I write blog posts for lifestyle brands that barely know I exist. It's just something to keep myself busy so I don't turn into furniture."
Damien gave her a mock-serious nod. "Ah yes, the noble battle against idle-wife syndrome."
She laughed softly. "Exactly. Some of it's fun though. I write about home stuff, dating, candles… very deep journalism."
"I'm still holding a spot for you at my office," Damien said with a teasing smile. "Right there, beside my desk. Prime seating. The offer's always open."
Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Tempting. I'll think about it… probably not."
He grinned. "Didn't think so."
For the first time since last night, the tension began to melt between them.
The pain was still there — both physical and emotional — but so was the effort. And sometimes, that was enough for now.
Naomi glanced down at her tea and realized something — the ache in her belly had dulled. Her cramps were easing. And for the first time in hours, she actually felt… a little better.
They got dressed slowly, taking their time—no rush, no tension. Just small smiles, shared looks, and a quiet understanding between them.
By noon, the helicopter was ready. Damien carried her bag, despite her protests, and they walked together toward the landing pad, the wind already picking up from the spinning blades.
Their island escape was over, but as the chopper lifted off, Naomi looked out the window and let herself breathe.
They were going home. Together — imperfect, but connected.