Rival Offline (Anya Forger x Damian Desmond)

Chapter Twenty Seven: Unexpected

"That was so good! I can't believe it ended on a cliffhanger!" Anya exclaimed, bouncing out of the theater with enough energy to power an entire city.

Damian followed behind her, still trying to process not just the movie but her relentless enthusiasm. "Yeah, I need to know what happens next," he replied, attempting to sound casual, though his mind was spinning.

"We definitely have to watch the next one together," she suggested without a second thought, her voice full of excitement.

"T-Together?" Damian's mind reeled at the word. The idea of spending more time with her, just the two of them, suddenly felt overwhelming. He wasn't used to this—feeling connected, looking forward to things that didn't involve grades, status, or impressing his father.

He glanced at her, watching how her eyes sparkled with genuine excitement. Was this what normal friendships—or whatever this was—felt like? His chest tightened, but in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"Y-Yeah, sure. Together," he managed, though his voice faltered slightly.

—

"Damian!" Ewen called from the living room, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" Damian stepped out of his room, glancing at Ewen, who was holding the phone out towards him.

"It's for you," Ewen said, but his tone wasn't casual—there was a certain seriousness behind it.

Damian's brows furrowed as he took the phone, already feeling a knot form in his stomach. He rarely received calls, especially not ones that seemed urgent.

"Hello?"

A cold, familiar voice greeted him on the other end. "Damian, it's your father."

Damian's grip on the phone tightened. "Father," he said, trying to mask the tension in his voice.

There was a brief pause before Donovan continued, his voice as cold and calculated as ever. "I am requesting that you move back to the Desmond residence."

Damian's heart sank. Move back? He hadn't expected that. "Move back?" he echoed, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Yes," Donovan said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your mother and I believe it is time for you to focus on more pressing matters. The school has served its purpose."

Damian's mind raced. The dorms had given him a sense of distance, of independence—even if it was all a façade. Going back meant stepping fully into the shadow of his father, losing whatever slivers of freedom he had.

"But... what about school?" Damian asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

"You will continue your education," Donovan replied dismissively. "But you will do so under our guidance. There's no need for you to remain in that environment any longer."

Damian's chest tightened. "Our guidance." He knew what that meant—constant scrutiny, relentless pressure to meet expectations he was never sure he could reach.

"Prepare yourself," Donovan finished. "We'll discuss the details when you return." And with that, the line went dead.

Damian stood frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear, the weight of his father's words crushing down on him.