Chapter 91 FEISTY.
\~~~SERENA.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in a whisper, frowning up at him. My voice came out sharper than I intended, laced with confusion and a hint of irritation.
That wasn't our agreement. He had texted me this morning, clear as day that he'd be stuck in meetings until evening, and then coming over to get me at Maya’s place.
Not afternoon and not now, with the sun still high and classes barely over.
“I’m here for you,” he said softly, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back. The touch was meant to soothe, but it only stirred up more questions.
Why the sudden change? Was it because of the recent drug issue? His cologne wrapped around me, familiar and comforting, but it couldn't erase the knot of unease in my stomach.
“Oh, if it isn’t Damien,” Gwendolyn’s smirk grew even wider, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She crossed her arms, tilting her head like she owned the space between us.
The way she said his name was familiar, and almost intimate and it made my skin crawl. Who was this woman to him, really?
“Let’s go,” Damien said, ignoring her completely. His tone was flat, and commanding, like he was dismissing a nuisance. He started to turn us away, his grip firm on my waist.
“Your little girl and I were just having a conversation, come on,” she giggled, the sound high and mocking. It grated on my nerves, like nails on a chalkboard.
Little girl? Again? I pulled my brows together, heat rising in my cheeks. Why did she keep calling me that? It wasn't just teasing.
She was trying to diminish me and make me seem small and insignificant next to whatever bond she thought she had with Damien.
“She is my wife, you don’t call her that,” Damien hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He stopped moving, his body tensing against mine. I could feel the anger vibrating through him, protective and fierce.
It sent a shiver down my spine, not fear, but something deeper, a reminder of how far he'd go for me.
“I didn’t dispute that. She is a little girl either way. You must have been so bored with women your age,” Gwendolyn shot back, her eyes flicking to me with a gleam of triumph. The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Bored with women his age? What did that even mean?
Maya and I exchanged glances, her eyes wide with shock. She squeezed my arm, a silent 'what the hell?' passing between us. The courtyard felt smaller now, the curious stares pressing in.
“Did you tell her, actually? She seems so naive. I wouldn’t want to imagine that there are secrets between you newlyweds,” Gwendolyn continued, her smile turning sharper.
What secrets? Damien had always been vague about his past, brushing off questions with kisses or distractions, but this felt different and threatening.
“You used to avoid dramas. Now, you make yourself the center of one. Have you been that miserable?” Damien asked, his lips curving into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was cold, and calculated, like he was poking at an old wound.
How well did they know each other? My pulse quickened, a mix of jealousy and fear bubbling up.
“Damien, let’s go,” I said, tugging at his arm. My fingers dug into his sleeve, desperate to pull him away from this mess. But he didn’t budge, rooted like a tree in a storm. His focus stayed on her, the air between them crackling with unspoken history.
“Peace is boring. I want drama. Especially now that you have something to toy with in your life,” Gwendolyn replied, her voice laced with bitterness.
A toy? Me?
Offense burned through me, hot and immediate. How dare she? After the way she'd cornered me, and mocked me.
Before Damien could respond, I tugged him harder, my nails biting into his skin through the fabric. “I said, let’s go!” My voice rose, echoing slightly in the open space. I didn't care who heard. The confrontation had gone on long enough and I just wanted out, away from her piercing gaze and the weight of whatever past she was dragging into our present.
“Listen to your little girl. Girls her age are so feisty, I tell you,” Gwendolyn said, her laugh light but cutting.
Feisty? It was another jab, reducing my anger to some childish tantrum.
“Respectfully, screw you,” I hissed at her, the words spilling out before I could stop them. I spun on my heel and walked away, my backpack bouncing against my side with each furious step.
The pavement blurred under my feet, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes not from sadness, but rage. Maya hurried to keep up, her hand still linked with mine.
I didn't get far before I heard Damien's footsteps behind me, quick and determined. He caught up in seconds, his fingers wrapping around my wrist gently but unyielding. “I’ll drop you at home,” he said, his voice softer now, directed at me.
“No. I am not going,” I snapped, yanking my arm free. I am not stepping foot in that house, not with him acting like this and like there are secrets piling up between us.
“Moonlight, please,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine. There was a plea there, rare for him, the man who always seemed in control.
I swallowed hard, glancing at Maya. She looked torn, her face a mask of worry. We had plans. Food, gossip, and a normal afternoon. This wasn't part of it.
“We will drop her off at home first,” Damien said, noticing my hesitation. He nodded toward Maya, including her in the offer. Practical, as always.
I snatched my wrist from him again, storming toward his car parked at the edge of the lot.
I yanked open the back door and slid in, slamming it behind me. Maya followed, settling beside me with a sigh.
“You should calm down, and sit at the front with him,” she whispered as Damien approached the driver's side.
“Tell me you don’t notice anything back there,” I frowned, keeping my voice low. The air in the car felt thick, charged with everything unsaid.
“I did, but…” Maya trailed off, biting her lip.
“He told me they were just friends!” I snapped, anger and hurt spilling over.
Just then, the driver's door opened, and Damien slid in. He glanced back at me through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable, then sighed deeply. Without a word, he started the engine, the low rumble filling the silence.
The ride to Maya’s apartment was torture as it was so silent that if a pin had fallen, we’d have heard it. I stared out the window, watching the campus fade into city streets lined with shops and trees. My mind replayed the confrontation over and over.
We pulled up to Maya's building, and she turned to me, her eyes soft. “Text me later, okay? We will talk.”
I nodded, pulling her into a quick hug. “Yeah. Thanks for today.” She squeezed me back, then grabbed her bag and slipped out, waving as she headed through the gate. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with him.
“Come to the front,” Damien said, his tone even, like nothing had happened.
“No,” I replied, crossing my arms and sinking deeper into the seat. The leather creaked under me, amplifying the standoff.
He didn’t say anything after that. Instead, he unbuckled his seatbelt, got out, and walked around to my side. The door opened, and he leaned in, his presence filling the space. Deftly, he unfastened my belt, his fingers brushing my hip accidentally…or not.
“Get out, and move to the front, Ena, or I will carry you.”
I frowned at him, anger flaring anew. He'd do it, I knew that much. The thought of him manhandling me in public made me even angrier, so I hissed under my breath, shoving past him as I got out. My shoulder bumped his chest, hard, and rock-solid that it jarred me more than him. I brushed it off and stalked to the front passenger door, yanking it open and sliding in. The seat felt too close to him, and too intimate after everything.
He got back behind the wheel, buckling up without a word. The engine purred to life again, and we pulled away from the curb.
“Who is Gwendolyn to you?” I asked, turning to face him. My voice was steady, giving no room for lies or excuses. I'd waited long enough and that question had been burning my chest since we left the school.
Damien fastened his belt fully, sat upright, and met my eyes for a brief second. Then, calmly, as if discussing the weather, he answered.
“My ex-wife.”
The words landed like a bomb, shattering the fragile peace. He drove off, his face straight and calm, as though he hadn’t just dropped the one revelation I'd dreaded most. My world tilted, questions flooding my mind.
How long ago? Why hadn't he told me?
There was no single article about him being married or anything of the sort.
What else was buried in his past? The road stretched ahead, but I felt like we were driving straight into the storm.