Chapter 20 20

Chapter 20 20
Damiano
 Her Silence Speaks
I wake to the quiet hum of the morning.
Aurora isn’t in bed.
The sheets are still warm, her scent lingers. Sweet like vanilla and something I can’t name. I sit up and glance around. The bathroom door is open, empty. I check the time, it’s early, not even seven.
She never wakes before me.
I get up, throw on a pair of sweatpants, and walk out of the bedroom.
I find her by the window in the hallway, arms crossed, wrapped in one of my shirts. Her face is turned slightly away, watching the rain that falls against the glass.
"You're up early," I say softly, careful not to startle her.
She turns with a slight smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Just couldn’t sleep,” she says.
Something’s off.
She’s calm, too calm. Her voice sounds level, but I know her too well. The way she’s holding her body—stiff, guarded. She’s lost in her thoughts, and I’m not in them.
I take a step closer and reach for her hand. “You feeling okay?”
She nods, but I can tell it’s a lie. "Just a headache."
“Want me to call the doctor?”
“No. I’m fine. Really.” She kisses my cheek quickly, almost like an apology, and walks off toward the kitchen.
I stand still for a moment. My chest tightens with unease.
Something has shifted.
And I hate it.
She’s here, right in front of me, but it feels like she’s somewhere else. I don’t know where, and worse, I don’t know who put her there. It’s the first time in weeks that I feel her pulling away.
I won’t let her go. I can’t.
She’s mine.
I walk into the kitchen and watch her quietly while she makes coffee. The way her fingers tremble ever so slightly when she reaches for the mug doesn’t escape me.
I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
She stiffens for a second before she melts into me.
“I missed you,” I murmur into the curve of her neck.
She tilts her head, giving me access. "You just woke up," she whispers with a soft laugh, but I can hear the edge of tension underneath.
“Still missed you.”
I turn her around to face me. Her eyes search mine. There’s something she wants to say, but she swallows it down.
I kiss her.
Slow, deep, desperate for closeness.
Her body relaxes in my arms, her hands grip my shoulders, grounding herself.
“I love you, Birdie,” I whisper against her lips. “Whatever’s going on in that head of yours… let me carry it too.”
Her lips tremble slightly. She kisses me again, but I know this isn’t surrender. This is distraction. Whatever it is she’s hiding—she hasn’t let it go.
So I take her hand and lead her back to the bedroom. I need to feel her again. Need to remind her we belong to each other.
Taking off her nightgown, I shed my sweatpants and settle above her, I slide my dick inside her.A gentle moan escapes her lips. I speed up with each and every pace. I gaze down at her and our eyes lock, her mouth parts and she moaning with each and every thrust of my dick inside of her. She is so warm and it drives me crazy. She hugs me and I thrust deep inside and she gasp, “Damiano.” Her nails gently dig into my back. “Yes birdie.” I respond and she continues moaning softly. 
The way she responds, soft gasps and fingers clutching my back, tells me she still feels it too. But even as I move inside her, even as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment, I can’t shake the thought:
She’s slipping away from me.
And I don’t know why.
But I will find out.
Even if it destroys me.
I kiss her forehead and cum inside of her. When we collapse together, her breathing rapid against my chest, I can’t stop the storm building inside me.
I love her.
But I know she’s hiding something.
“Do you want me to take you out today?” I ask her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just you and me. No stress,just a day that’s ours.”
She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes distant, like she's staring through me instead of at me. Then she gives a faint nod. “Yeah… maybe some fresh air would be good.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper, strained, like she's holding back everything that's breaking inside her. I see it—how tired her smile is. How forced. I want to pull her into me and make the world stop hurting her, but I can only offer her this quiet escape.
“Just you and me,” I whisper back. “We’ll go wherever you want.”
“Go and get ready.” 
She nods.
She’s wearing a white elegant skort that highlights her graceful figure, paired with a baby pink blouse that gently flows with each movement. The collar is slightly open, giving her a relaxed yet sophisticated charm. Her hair is down, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves.
Even though I can tell she's not really in the mood. That’s exactly why I want to take her—to pull her out of her head for a while.
I don’t tell her where we’re going. I just help her into the car, take the scenic route, and let the silence between us settle like a fragile kind of peace. She's quiet, looking out the window, her fingers twisting in her lap. I reach over and place my hand on hers. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t squeeze back either.
It’s almost an hour’s drive to the place, an old lakeside restaurant tucked into a quiet corner of the countryside. I’d come here once before, years ago, when I needed to think. The view of the still water, the crisp air, and the scent of pine always brought me clarity. Maybe it’ll bring her something too.
We arrive just as the sun breaks through the clouds. The lake glimmers beneath it, and the wooden restaurant, with ivy crawling up the sides, looks like something from a dream. Cozy. Private. Quiet.
“This is beautiful,” she murmurs as we step out of the car.
I open the door for her. “Only the best for you, Birdie.”
Inside, the restaurant is warm and inviting, dark wooden beams, a crackling fireplace in the corner, and only a handful of other diners. The staff knows me. We’re seated near the windows overlooking the lake.
The waitress places a menu in front of Aurora, but she barely looks at it.
“Get whatever you want,” I tell her. “Or nothing at all. We can just sit here if that’s easier.”
She looks at me again, this time with a flicker of something soft in her eyes. “I’m glad you brought me.”
I nod, and for the first time in days, I see her shoulders loosen. She ends up ordering a creamy risotto, and I go with grilled salmon. The wine flows lightly, and when the food arrives, some of the color returns to her face. She even lets out a tiny laugh when I steal a forkful from her plate.
After lunch, we walk outside by the lake. The breeze brushes her hair back, and she shivers. I take off my coat and drape it over her shoulders.
“You always do that,” she says quietly.
“What?”
“Shield me from things before I even ask.”
“I just want you to feel safe.”
She turns to me, her eyes glassy. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I cup her cheek gently, leaning closer. “You don’t have to find out.”
And there, beneath the whispering trees by the lake, I kiss her. Not like the ones we share behind closed doors. This one is different—slow, aching, full of the unspoken things hanging between us.
She leans into me and whispers, “Please don’t ever lie to me.”
“I won’t,” I say, even if I know the world we live in doesn’t always make that promise easy to keep.