𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ☏︎

𝟑𝟐 | 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐋

NEVAEH

Work ends and I watch Damien drive single handedly. "I can't wait to go home. Today's been really shitty." I say to Damien.

He smiles softly, without looking at me. "What? Why are you smiling? There's nothing nice about-"

"You said 'home'." He says as we come to a traffic light. He sees the confusion on my face. "Don't worry about it."

He puts his hand on my thigh, and I put my hand over his as he makes a right turn into his apartment complex. I smile to myself.

We pass by Mira, the receptionist, who smiles at us and I wave back at her, smiling back while Damien doesn't even bat an eye.

"You're so rude to your staff, you know." I tell him once we get in the elevator.

"You want me smiling at other women?" He asks.

"I want you to be nicer to your staff." I respond. He looks down at me and watches my face carefully.

"Okay." He says. "I'll try."

"Actually?" I ask. He's actually going to try and make an effort to be nicer to others? He nods and I stare at him, amused.

We reach his penthouse and I go in first, taking off my shoes. "I wanna cook today." I say, and he raises a brow.

"So all this time you've been able to cook, you're just letting me do it?" He shakes his head with amusement. "This is another level of laziness."

"I guess I shouldn't cook then." I say, disappointed.

"No, cook. I want to try your food." He beckons me, and I give in.

"Fine." I sigh, going to get changed first. I also need to take down my braids, so I'll do that too.

•

I'm leaving the rice to cook and Damien keeps asking to come in and have a look because he can smell it and it's making him pretty damn hungry.

"It's been an hour." He complains.

"It's only been 45 minutes. Be patient." I say, going to sit at the kitchen island. "Give me fifteen more minutes and it'll be done."

"Whatever." He says bitterly.

Fifteen minutes pass and the jollof rice is ready. I dish two plates for me and Damien before I call him in. "It's ready!" I shout.

He barges into the kitchen and sees it. "I was wondering why it smelt familiar." He says, going to sit at the island.

I take a seat in front of him. "I remember when me and Danté would come around to yours and eat your mum's meals." He smiles, taking a spoonful and eating it. "It tastes just like your mum's, too."

"She's the one who taught me." I shrug. After she... died, I had to cook all the food as everyone else was grieving. But my dad didn't realise I was grieving the hardest.

Joanna was only four, and Jeremy was twelve. It's been eight years since Danté died, and then my mother only a month after. I was closest to my mum then. I was fifteen, and Damien was sixteen. We both lost someone very important to us in the same year.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking at me with concern. "You just went silent." He sets his spoon down, studying my face.

I swallow thickly, refusing to look at him. "I'm okay." I lie. He doesn't look convinced though. "I just miss her a lot."

"I know how you feel." He says quietly.

My mental health really deteriorated when she'd died. My eating disorder came back almost immediately and I'd starve for days until Jeremy was the one helping me while Dad went to go and marry that woman.