Chapter 131 One thirty one

Chapter 131 One thirty one
Aria’s POV

“Damien… what happened?”

My voice came out softer than I intended, laced with confusion and something else I couldn’t quite name, because the way he was looking at me, frozen, pale, and completely shaken, was nothing like I had ever seen before, and it made a slow, uneasy feeling settle deep in my chest.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked again, this time a little more urgently, my brows pulling together as I searched his face for answers that he clearly wasn’t ready to give.

He didn’t respond immediately.

In fact, he didn’t move at all.

He just kept staring at me like he was trying to confirm something, like whatever he was seeing didn’t make sense even to him, and the silence that stretched between us began to feel heavier with every passing second.

“Damien,” I called again, my tone firmer now, because his lack of response was starting to scare me more than whatever it was he thought he saw.

Still nothing.

My heart started beating faster, not out of panic exactly, but out of a growing discomfort that I couldn’t shake off, because this wasn’t normal, and no matter how much I tried to stay calm, the tension in the room was becoming impossible to ignore.

“Say something,” I pressed, my voice quieter but more insistent, because I needed to understand what was going on.

Finally, he blinked.

Just once.

Like he was snapping himself out of whatever trance he had fallen into.

His throat moved slightly as he swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was lower than usual, almost cautious.

“Why are your eyes like that?”

The question caught me off guard completely.

“My eyes?” I repeated, my confusion immediate and genuine, because out of everything I expected him to say, that was not it.

“Yes,” he said, his gaze still fixed on me, intense and unwavering. “They’re… dark.”
Dark?

I frowned slightly, trying to process what he meant, because as far as I knew, there was nothing unusual about my eyes.

“How?” I asked, tilting my head slightly as I searched his expression for clarification, but all I saw was uncertainty mixed with something that looked dangerously close to fear.

“They just are,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction, like he wasn’t even sure how to explain it himself.

That alone made my confusion deepen.

Without saying anything else, I pushed myself up from where I was sitting, the sudden need to confirm his words taking over my thoughts, because even though I didn’t believe there was anything wrong, the seriousness in his voice made it impossible to ignore completely.

I walked toward the mirror.

Each step felt heavier than it should have, not because I was physically tired, but because there was a strange tension building inside me, something that made my chest feel tight as I reached the mirror and slowly lifted my gaze to meet my own reflection.

For a brief second, I hesitated.

And then..

I looked.

My eyes stared back at me. Looking normal.

Exactly the same as they had always been.

No darkness. No strange color. No difference.

I blinked a few times, leaning in slightly as if that would somehow reveal something hidden, my fingers lightly brushing under my eyes in a small, unconscious motion, but there was nothing there.

Nothing at all.

A small breath escaped my lips, one I hadn’t even realized I was holding, and I straightened slightly before turning back to face him.

“I don’t see anything wrong,” I said, my voice calm but laced with quiet uncertainty, because even though the mirror showed nothing unusual, the way he had reacted still didn’t sit right with me.

I walked back slowly, more cautious now, more aware of the tension that had settled between us, and lowered myself to sit beside him again, though this time I made sure to keep a small distance, not out of fear, but out of the need to observe him more clearly.

He was still watching me.

Still trying to figure something out.

Then, after a moment, he shook his head lightly, like he was dismissing his own thoughts.

“Maybe I was hallucinating,” he muttered, his tone quieter now, almost distant. “Just forget about it.”

Forget about it.

The words should have been reassuring.
Simple.

Easy to accept.

But they weren’t to me.

Because something about all of this felt wrong. Deeply wrong.

And no matter how much I tried to push it aside, that strange, creeping dread in my gut refused to go away, settling there like a silent warning I couldn’t fully understand.
Still…

I said nothing.

If he wasn’t ready to explain, then pushing him wouldn’t change anything, and the last thing I wanted was to create tension where there didn’t need to be any, especially when I wasn’t even sure what we were dealing with.

So I stayed quiet.

And let it go.

Or at least, I pretended to.

He stood up after a moment, his movements slower than usual, like his mind was still somewhere else entirely, and without saying much, he reached for the remote and switched the channel to something else.

A different show. Maybe to distract myself.
Anything to move past what had just happened.

I leaned back slightly, adjusting my position again as we both settled into silence, the sound of the television filling the room, though neither of us was truly paying attention.

The atmosphere had changed.

What was once light and easy had now become something heavier, something unspoken that lingered between us like a shadow neither of us could ignore, even if we tried.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.
His posture was composed.

His expression was controlled.

But there was something beneath it.
Something restless.

Something unsettled.

And for the first time since I had met him, I realized that whatever was going on… it wasn’t something he understood either.
That thought alone made the uneasiness inside me grow stronger.

Minutes passed. Or maybe longer.
I wasn’t sure anymore.

Time felt strange in that moment, stretching in ways that made everything feel slower, heavier, harder to sit through.

His phone rang.

The sharp sound cut through the silence instantly, making me flinch slightly as my attention snapped toward him.

He didn’t react immediately.

Not like he usually would.

Instead, he stared at the phone for a second, like he was debating whether or not to answer it.

Then, finally, he reached for it.

His movements were calm and measured as usual.

He answered the call without a word, bringing the phone to his ear as his gaze drifted slightly away, his expression unreadable once again.

“Hello?” he said.

There was a pause.

A long one.

I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but whatever it was… it was enough.

Because slowly…

Right before my eyes…

The color drained from his face.

Not gradually. Not subtly. It was immediate.

Like all the blood had been pulled away in an instant, leaving behind nothing but shock.

His fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

His jaw clenched.

And his eyes…
His eyes widened just enough to tell me that whatever he was hearing… was bad.
Very bad.

A cold feeling ran down my spine as I sat there, watching him, my heart beginning to race again for reasons I couldn’t fully explain.