Chapter 68: Confused Hearts

Chapter 68: Confused Hearts
Damien’s POV

My room felt too quiet now—and too heavy as well.
Romel’s voice was still ringing in my ears like he had never left.
“You’re screwing your ex-wife’s best friend?”
“You still want Anne, and if you don’t, let someone else love her the way she deserves.”
“I love Anneliese too.”

I leaned back against the headboard, running a hand over my face and through my hair.
My laptop was still on the desk in the corner, the screen dimmed with numbers and contracts waiting for me, but I couldn’t focus—not now, not after what I had heard from Romel today.
My chest was tight.

Was I in love with Anne?
The thought alone made my throat close so tight it felt like I was being strangled.

My heart had reacted before my mind could even figure out anything. I had felt a rush inside me, something burning and heavy—it was like fire crawling through my veins.
But then, the fear had followed… and I had hated it.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, exhaling hard.

No. I had promised myself I wouldn’t do this again.

I had already given my heart once… to her… my first love.
My late girlfriend who had never fulfilled her promise to stay forever. I could still see her face, pale and beautiful, the way her hand had slipped out of mine in that hospital bed.
The memory still tore the wound in my chest open.

What if I let Anne in and she died too?
What if I tasted love again, only for it to be snatched out of my hands like a cruel joke?
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t go through that kind of loss a second time.
It would break me completely.
I swore I would just go insane.

But then… why did I think of Anne every damn day? Why did her eyes haunt me in meetings? Why did her words replay in my head when I tried to sleep?
I had told myself a few times that maybe it was just a passing obsession due to the time spent together. But deep down, I knew it was more.
Romel hadn’t been wrong—that bastard had seen through me.

“Damn it,” I muttered, throwing the pillow across the room. It landed with a low thud against the wall.

Was I in love with Anne?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But the real question that scared me wasn’t whether I loved her.
It was whether I was brave enough and ready to accept things—and what might follow.

The night had stretched on, and I had been glued to the side of the wall, staring at the ground like it could provide some explanation to my problem.
As I sat there, all I could hear was Anne’s laughter, Anne’s tears, Anne’s stubborn voice… like they had been carved into me.

Did I love her? I didn’t know. But maybe… maybe I was already too far gone.
And the worst part was, I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse.

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Anne’s POV
The house was silent tonight, and the worst part was, Belinda wasn’t here. She had left for a modelling trip, and it was just me.

I was curled up on the sofa with my knees pressed to my chest. The TV was on, but I wasn’t watching—I couldn’t.
The voices blended into a dull hum, meaningless in my head.

I kept replaying what had happened last night—Caleb’s smile, the way his hand had brushed mine across the table. The candle, the little cake he had ordered just for me with Congratulations, Anne written in chocolate.
The stars in the sky and the look in his eyes when he had asked me to be his girlfriend.
The disappointment in his eyes when I had rejected him.

He was good and so sweet.
A gentleman in every sense. He had been with me through all my down times. He thought I deserved better, and he celebrated my victories like they were his.
He looked at me like I was something precious—not someone broken or complicated.

And yet… I had told him no.

Why?
Why had I turned him down?

I buried my face in my hands, groaning softly into them.
Maybe I was stupid.
Maybe I just didn’t know what was good for me.

But deep down, I knew it hadn’t been about Caleb or me being scared of anything…
It had been about Damien.

The comparison had hit me out of nowhere, and it kept hitting me now.
Caleb was sweet, calm, respectful.
And Damien… he was arrogant, sharp-tongued, always making me want to scream and kiss him at the same time.

But why was I even comparing them?
Why did my heart insist on dragging Damien into every thought, every decision?

“Stop it,” I whispered to myself. “You don’t love him. You can’t. He doesn’t even care.”

But it didn’t help.

I remembered how Damien had looked at me the night of the funeral—his eyes darker than ever, but with something hiding beneath.
I remembered the crazy moments and fights we had in the safe house, how he had taken my pots, his reaction when he had caught me stealing his food.
And I remembered how I had felt safe in his arms, even when I had hated him most.

Was that love? Or was I just clinging to him and the memories because I had spent months with him?

I hugged the pillow tighter, rocking it slightly.
My chest ached with each passing second.

I should have said yes to Caleb. He was the safe choice. He was the one who wouldn’t hurt me, who wouldn’t ruin me.
But when he had leaned forward and asked, I had hesitated—not because I had doubted him, but because a part of me had wished it was Damien across that table instead.
Damien, asking me.

I hit my head, trying to get the thoughts out.

Maybe the old woman had been right…
What if I was crazily in love with him?
What if all his anger, all his stubbornness, had been covering something deeper all along?
But what if, again, he didn’t really love me back?

The thought made my eyes sting, and I blinked fast, refusing to cry.

I whispered again, weaker this time, “Stop it, Anne. Stop it.”

But my heart didn’t listen.
It never did.