Chapter 53 The Morning After
I didn't sleep a single minute.
Not one.
By the time the sky began to lighten, I was still sitting upright in bed, my back against the headboard, arms folded tightly across my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard it again - her voice. Oh, Damian, faster... followed by laughter. It replayed in my head like a cruel recording I couldn't shut off.
I hated that I could still feel something.
That my chest still clenched when I remembered the way he used to look at me.
That I still cared.
Around seven, the city began to stir - the low hum of engines, the bark of a stray dog, the shuffle of someone sweeping the corridor downstairs. I tried to distract myself with the sound, but then I heard it - a soft thump. Footsteps. Voices.
From below.
I froze, my hand gripping the edge of my curtain.
Rachael's laugh carried up through the thin morning air - light, careless, exactly the way someone sounded after a night of satisfaction.
And then I heard his voice - lower, rough, still tinged with sleep. Damian.
I moved to the balcony door without thinking. The hallway below ran parallel to the parking lot. My heart was hammering by the time I slid the glass open a crack.
There they were.
Rachael was standing by his car, wearing one of Damian's hoodies and yesterday's jeans. Her hair was a mess - the kind of mess that screamed I didn't sleep much. Damian stood close, hands shoved in his pockets, but the way his eyes lingered on her made something in me twist.
He was different. Relaxed.
Unbothered.
And when she leaned in to hug him - a lingering, intimate kind of hug - he didn't pull away. He smiled. Actually smiled.
I clenched my teeth so hard it hurt.
She brushed his jaw with her hand, whispering something that made him laugh. Then, without shame or hesitation, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked away, swinging his hoodie sleeves as if she owned them.
Damian stood there for a moment, watching her leave.
Then he turned - and looked up.
Straight at my balcony.
Our eyes met.
It was barely a second, but it was enough to make my pulse crash in my ears. His expression changed - first surprise, then something unreadable. Guilt, maybe. Or realization.
I didn't move. I just stood there, staring down at him, expression blank, every emotion neatly locked behind my eyes.
He raised a hand slightly, as if he wanted to explain. But I turned away before he could.
If he'd expected sympathy or conversation, he'd get neither.
Not anymore.
Damian's POV
I hadn't planned for her to stay.
But when morning came and the sheets smelled like her perfume, I didn't hate it either.
Rachael stretched lazily beside me, her hair spilling across my pillow, that smug smile tugging at her lips. "You look like you're overthinking," she murmured.
"I'm not."
"You are," she said, rolling onto her side. "Relax, Damian. It's not like we committed a crime."
No - just a disaster waiting to happen.
Because as much as I wanted to pretend last night had been spontaneous and harmless, I couldn't shake the thought of who lived right above me.
Elena.
I'd thought about her for weeks - the way she used to smile when she teased me, the way her voice softened when she said my name. The way she'd kissed me once, slow and tentative, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to open the door or slam it shut.
And now I'd gone and thrown a grenade at whatever fragile thing had existed between us.
Rachael pulled on her jeans, humming some tune under her breath. She was glowing, radiating satisfaction, like someone who'd just gotten exactly what she wanted. "Don't look so grim," she teased, tossing me my t-shirt. "It's just one night."
Just one night.
Except it hadn't felt like "just" anything when she'd whispered my name loud enough for half the building to hear.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. "You should head out before traffic builds."
She grinned, unbothered. "Trying to get rid of me already?"
"Trying to save you the headache," I said.
She walked to the door, pausing beside me. "Don't brood too much," she said softly. "You're good at pretending you don't care, but I know you do."
Then she pressed a kiss to my cheek, her hand lingering on my chest before she finally left.
I shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. The apartment was quiet now, but the silence didn't feel peaceful - it felt heavy. The kind that pressed against the ribs and reminded you what you'd done.
I turned toward the window, and that's when I saw her.
Elena.
Standing on her balcony, arms crossed, her hair tied in that careless way that still managed to look perfect. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't glaring either - just watching.
Our eyes met, and everything in me went still.
For a split second, I thought about waving. Saying something. Anything. But her expression was cold - blank, even - and somehow, that was worse than anger.
She turned away before I could open my mouth. The curtain slid shut.
I stood there for a long time, staring up at the empty balcony.
The realization hit like a quiet, bitter truth: I'd lost her before she was even mine.
Elena's POV
I couldn't focus all morning.
Every sound - the buzz of my phone, the kettle boiling, even Lucas's text - grated on my nerves. Lucas wanted to meet for brunch. I couldn't bring myself to reply.
I kept thinking about Damian. About the way he'd looked at Rachael, about that easy smile. I hated myself for noticing how good it looked on him.
But what stung the most wasn't the jealousy. It was the audacity.
He'd been the one to hold back, to say he wasn't ready, that he wanted something real - and then he'd gone and given Rachael what he'd withheld from me.
When I finally stepped outside, the morning air hit sharp and cold. I wasn't sure where I was going until I found myself in front of his door.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the number on the wood panel, my heart racing. Then I raised my hand-
And stopped.
Through the door, I could hear faint movement. The sound of a drawer closing. Then quiet.
I let my hand drop.
What was I even going to say?
Hey, congratulations, I could hear you all night?
I turned away before the anger could turn into something weaker.
As I walked back up the stairs, I heard a door open behind me. Damian's voice, low and hesitant:
"Elena."
I froze, hand tightening around the railing.
He sounded unsure. Maybe guilty. Maybe both.
But I didn't turn around. I just said, "Hope you slept well," and kept walking.
I didn't see his expression - but I didn't need to.
The silence that followed said enough.
Damian's POV
Her voice lingered long after she disappeared up the stairs - calm, cutting, final.
Hope you slept well.
I stood there in the doorway, staring at the spot where she'd just been.
It was strange - last night had felt like release. But now, it felt like consequence.
And for the first time in a long while, I wasn't sure who I'd really wanted in that bed.