Chapter 92 NOT STABLE.
\~~~SERENA.
“Why did you never tell me?” I asked the moment the car pulled into the garage of the house. My voice came out sharper than I meant, edged with the hurt that had been building since he said the word.
“Are we really going to have this conversation inside the car?” He raised a brow, unfastening his seatbelt with that deliberate slowness he had when he was trying to stay in control. His eyes met mine for a moment, dark and unreadable before he looked away.
I stared at him, frowning. The garage lights flickered on automatically, casting harsh shadows across his strong jawline and the faint stubble that always made him look a bit rugged. He looked so calm, and so composed while inside I was a storm. We hadn’t exchanged a word since he’d told me about Gwendolyn. I’d kept mute the whole drive because I couldn’t fathom the information at all.
Ex-wife? Why hide it? What else was he keeping from me?
He opened the door and got out, his movements efficient, like he was shutting down the argument before it started. That was when I unfastened my belt and got out too, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. The sound echoed off the concrete walls. I grabbed my bag from the back seat, slinging it over my shoulder, and walked ahead of him toward the door leading into the house. My sneakers squeaked on the floor, each step fueling my anger. I didn’t stop till I entered the bedroom.
The room was dim, light filtering through the half-drawn curtains.
I tossed my bag onto the dresser and started pulling off my accessories, my fingers fumbled with the clasp, frustration making them clumsy.
He entered shortly after, closing the door with a soft click. I could feel his presence behind me, heavy and watchful. “You need to calm down,” he said, his voice low and steady.
That somehow annoyed me at first. Calm down? Like I was some child throwing a tantrum? I whipped around to face him, my earrings clattering into the jewelry dish. “Because I am indeed feisty like your ex-wife had said?” I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
“Ena!” He snapped his brows together, surprise flashing across his face. He took a step closer, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.
“You lied to me! Don’t try to tell me how to react!” I shot back, my voice rising. Heat flushed my cheeks, and I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away.
“Just ca…”
“If I hadn’t asked you, that would’ve been different. But, I asked you who she was to you. You lied! You said she was just an old acquaintance! You lied!” I hollered, the words bursting out like they’d been bottled up too long. My chest heaved with each breath, and I pointed a finger at him accusingly. How could he stand there so still, so unaffected? It made me want to shake him, and for him to feel the chaos swirling in my head.
He didn’t say anything. He kept mute, looking at me with those intense eyes that usually melted me but now just made me angrier. His silence was like a wall, impenetrable, and it riled me more. Why wasn’t he defending himself?
“And that is not all,” I said, my voice trembling now with the weight of everything else I’d been holding back. I paced a few steps toward the window, needing space, then turned back to him.
Why do you never tell me about what happened that night? I remember vividly now.”
“Your head must be a field of chaos right now,” he breathed out, rubbing a hand over his face. He walked to the closet, his back to me, like he needed a moment to compose himself.
“Excuse me?” I followed him, my bare feet padding across the plush carpet.
“You wanna know everything at once. How do I answer you when you’re not calm and stable?” He asked, his voice ever calm as he entered the closet. He pulled a shirt from a hanger, folding it absently, avoiding my gaze.
I entered with him, the space feeling too small with both of us in it. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint lavender from my clothes, but it didn’t comfort me anymore. “Why did you never tell me about Gwendolyn?” I pressed, my hands balling into fists at my sides. What had I been thinking? That a man his age, success, and world wouldn’t have a past like that? Of course he had exes, but an ex-wife? And one who was now slinking around my university, calling me 'little girl'?
“It wasn’t important,” he said simply, hanging the shirt back up. His tone was matter-of-fact, like we were discussing the weather.
“It wasn’t important?” I frowned at his dismissive tone, stepping closer until I was right in front of him. I searched his face for any crack in the armor. Regret, guilt, anything but he was a master at hiding.
“Yes. She was my ex-wife. We were married for three years. I was twenty-two, and we divorced twenty years ago when I was twenty-five. We were both young and naive,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. There was a flicker there, something old and weary, but he shut it down quickly.
Three years. Twenty years ago. The numbers spun in my head. He’d been so young, barely younger than I was now.
But that didn’t make the lie sting any less. “Why did you divorce?” I asked, my voice softer now, curiosity edging out some of the anger. I wanted to understand, to piece together the man I loved from these fragments.
He didn’t answer. He just turned away, busying himself with straightening ties on the rack.
“Damien?” I reached out, touching his arm. His muscles tensed under my fingers, warm and solid.
“That is not yours to worry about,” he replied, his voice firm, like a door slamming shut.
“W… What?” I dropped my hand, staring at him in disbelief. Not mine to worry about? After he’d kept it from me? After she’d waltzed back into our lives taunting me?
“There is no article regarding that for a reason and we will leave it at that,” he said, as a matter of fact, and then turned out of the room.
My heart dropped.
That was it?
That was all I was going to get?
“No,” I shook my head slightly. “You don’t just get to say that and walk away.”
But he already had.
He turned and walked out of the closet like the conversation was over.
Like I didn’t matter enough to know and like I was just… someone on the outside.
I stood there for a few seconds, frozen, staring at the space he had just left.
My chest felt tight.
I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat.
This wasn’t just about Gwendolyn anymore. It wasn’t even just about the lie.
It was about the fact that there was a whole part of his life… a whole history… that he had completely shut me out from.
And no matter how much I asked… He wasn’t going to let me in.
I slowly sat down on the small stool in the closet, my hands resting on my lap.
Everything was piling up at once, just like he said, maybe I wasn’t calm.
Maybe I wasn’t stable.
But how was I supposed to be?
When nothing made sense anymore?
I let out a shaky breath and leaned back slightly, staring blankly ahead.
For the first time since I got married to Damien… I felt like I didn’t know him at all