Rival Offline (Anya Forger x Damian Desmond)

Chapter Twenty Nine: Backwards

Anya walked into the school building, whispers surrounding her, but these whispers were not about her, they were about something else

"Did you hear?" Becky said walking up to her.

"What? I just got here?" Anya asked confused.

"Damian is Marrying Annalise Marie" Becky whispered, leaning close to Anya, as if she was telling a secret, the entire school seemed to already know anyway?

Anya's heart sank as Becky's words hit her. "Damian is marrying someone?" The pit in her stomach grew heavier with each passing second.

"Does... Damian want this?" Anya asked, her voice quiet but filled with concern.

Becky leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think he does. Everyone's saying it's an arrangement by his father. Damian hasn't said anything, but you know how he is—always so closed off about stuff like this."

Anya clenched her fists, feeling a wave of sympathy for Damian. He had always struggled under his father's expectations, and now this?

Her thoughts drifted back to their recent conversation, the movie, how he'd started opening up to her. It was as if a wall had been thrown up between them once again, and this time, it wasn't one that Damian had built himself.

"I wonder how he's feeling right now," Anya muttered under her breath, her heart aching for her friend.

"You're so sweet Anya, thinking of how he feels, maybe you should ride up to the Desmond estate on a noble steed and rescue him" Becky giggled holding her cheeks as she fantasied 

Becky giggled, twirling around dramatically. "Come on, Anya! Imagine it! You, in a flowing cape, storming the Desmond estate to rescue Damian from his fate!" She clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling with her whimsical fantasy. "It's like something out of one of those romance movies!"

Anya sighed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Yeah, right. And then we ride off into the sunset or something?" she said, her tone sarcastic but her thoughts drifting to Damian, in a princess dress, she tried to not laugh at the thought.

"Exactly!" Becky exclaimed, clearly thrilled by the idea. "You know he'd be so surprised to see you charging in like that!"

"Yeah, well, I don't have a noble steed or any plans to crash a fancy estate," Anya replied, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Besides, it's probably not even up to him." She couldn't shake the heavy feeling that had settled in her chest since hearing the news.

"Maybe... But you still care," Becky pointed out softly, her teasing fading. "That's what matters."

Anya nodded. "I just hope he's okay."

Damian entered the classroom, his usual confident posture noticeably more rigid, his expression unreadable. The whispers that had been circling the room moments before seemed to quiet all at once as every pair of eyes turned toward him. He could feel the weight of their gazes, like invisible hands tugging at his carefully constructed composure.

As he walked to his seat, his footsteps sounded heavier than usual, his face betraying no emotion. Anya, who had been quietly reviewing her notes, noticed the sudden hush in the room and glanced up. Her eyes met Damian's for a fleeting moment before he quickly looked away. The tension between them was palpable.

Ewen leaned over to Emile, whispering something under his breath, while Becky sat wide-eyed, clearly eager for some dramatic development. Anya, on the other hand, felt a strange knot tighten in her stomach as she watched Damian sit down, his usual confident air replaced with something far more strained.

She knew what it was. Everyone did.

"Annalise Marie..." someone whispered from the back of the room, just loud enough to be heard. Damian's jaw clenched, his hand gripping the edge of his desk a little too tightly.

Becky leaned toward Anya. "See? Look at him. He's totally miserable," she whispered. "I mean, can you blame him?"

Anya nodded silently, her mind racing. The thought of Damian, someone who had always been so determined to break free from his father's expectations, now trapped in an arranged marriage was unsettling. She wanted to reach out to him, say something, but what could she possibly say?

Damian's eyes stayed glued to the front of the class, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. He hadn't spoken a word since he arrived, and it was clear to Anya that he was trying to hold himself together. The weight of his father's plans was heavy on his shoulders.

She thought about the Damian she had gotten to know, the one who had started to open up to her, and it hurt her to see him this way.

Anya was sitting at her desk, absentmindedly stabbing her salad with her fork as Becky chattered on about some new fashion trend. The sound of Becky's voice seemed distant, muffled by the thoughts swirling in her head. She had barely touched her food, the lettuce leaves and tomatoes shifting aimlessly with each poke of the fork.

Her mind kept drifting back to Damian—his hollow expression, the weight in his eyes when he walked into the classroom earlier. No matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, her thoughts always seemed to circle back to him.

"Anya? Hellooo?" Becky waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her fingers to pull her out of her daze.

"Huh?" Anya blinked, realizing she hadn't been listening at all. "Sorry, what?"

Anya stared at the photo Becky was showing her, a family portrait of Damian's fiancée, Annalise Marie. The blonde girl was undeniably beautiful, poised with a kind of elegance that Anya could never picture herself having. But none of that mattered to her. The weight in her chest wasn't jealousy—it was worry. All she could think about was how Damian must be feeling, trapped in a life he had no control over.

"I don't know, Becky," Anya sighed, leaning back in her chair. "This doesn't feel right at all. Damian's being forced into something that he doesn't even want. I can't imagine what he's going through."

Becky bit her lip, closing her phone and tucking it away. "I'm sorry, Anya. I wish there was something we could do to help him, but what can we do? He's the heir to one of the most powerful families in the country. This marriage has probably been planned for years."

Anya looked out the window, her gaze drifting to the snow gently falling outside. She felt powerless, like no matter how much she wanted to help, she was just... ordinary. "But why does it have to be like this?" she murmured, more to herself than to Becky. "Why does everything in Damian's life have to be about what his dad wants? He deserves more than that."

Becky sighed, leaning forward on her desk. "It's not fair. But what can we do? His family doesn't care about what's right for Damian—they only care about keeping their power and status."

Anya clenched her fist, her mind racing. "There has to be something. I can't just sit here and watch this happen to him."

Becky watched her with a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on the desk. "You really care about him, don't you?"

Anya looked at Becky, her face conflicted. "Yeah... I guess I do. He's my friend, and I don't want to see him get hurt."

Anya sighed quietly, trying to ignore Becky's inner monologue. Ever since the announcement of Damian's arranged marriage, Becky had been relentless with the teasing, not just out loud, but now in her thoughts, too.

"When are you going to finally admit you're in love with him?" Becky's voice echoed in Anya's mind, though her lips didn't move.

Anya stared down at her salad, pushing it around her plate with the fork. Was it love? Or was it just her strong sense of wanting to protect someone she cared about? The line felt blurred. Her heart ached every time she thought about Damian's situation, but the idea of being in love with him... she wasn't so sure.

"I'm not in love with him," Anya muttered under her breath, more to convince herself than anyone else.

"Hm? What was that?" Becky asked, snapping out of her fantasy of gallant rescues and noble steeds.

"Nothing." Anya shook her head. she needed to speak to him, and find out how he felt about all of this.