Mr. Grey-Book I

29

Emilia

I woke to the gentle caress of soft sheets and morning light filtering through the blinds. My eyelashes fluttered as I blinked away the remnants of sleep. For a moment, I lay still, debating whether to face the day or linger in bed.

My body felt heavy and drained of energy, but relief washed over me as I sensed the baby's presence.

With a sigh that mixed exhaustion and ease, I hauled myself out of the sepia-toned bed. After freshening up, I returned to the bedroom, fingers working to twist my hair into a bun. The door swung open, revealing Suzan's warm smile and a tray laden with colorful fruits.

"Thought you might be hungry after last night," she said, setting the tray on the nightstand.

I smiled back, guilt tugging at me. "Thanks, Suzan. I'm sorry for the trouble – I know you have you have enough on your hands with Damien."

She waved away my concern. "Nonsense. I'm happy to help." Her eyes crinkled with affection. "Now, eat up. I need to check on Damien."

I nodded gratefully and began eating, relieved that my stomach seemed willing to cooperate this time.

After finishing, I settled onto the plush sofa and started flipping through channels. A familiar intro caught my attention, and I couldn't suppress a delighted squeal. "Grey's Anatomy!"

"Emilia?" Damien's deep voice called from the doorway. I turned to see him standing there, one hand gripping his stick.

"I'm here," I said softly, rising to guide him to the sofa. Once he was seated comfortably, I settled beside him. "I'm watching Grey's Anatomy," I explained.

"Ah," he replied, his tone neutral.

I couldn't help but ask, "Wait, have you never—" I cut myself off, mentally kicking myself. "I mean, before... oh, I'm sorry, Damien."

To my surprise, he let out a genuine laugh, the sound unexpectedly warm. "It's alright, Emilia. I'm not offended at all." He paused, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Truth be told, I was never much of a TV person, even before."

"Oh," I responded, somewhat taken aback. Pushing past my embarrassment, I launched into an explanation of the show. "It's about this group of doctors in Seattle, saving lives and dealing with personal dramas..."

"Sounds riveting," Damien deadpanned, his voice playfully sarcastic.

I nudged his shoulder, unable to keep the smile from my voice. "Hey! It's not boring at all."

He chuckled, a sound that sent a pleasant warmth through me. "If you say so," he conceded. Encouraged, I continued describing the on-screen action.

"Right now, Amelia, Koracick, and DeLuca are performing this incredibly risky procedure to remove a brain tumor. Meanwhile, Meredith and Jo are—"

Damien's knee bumped mine, halting my enthusiastic narration. "You do realize I'm blind, not deaf, right?" he teased. "I can hear the dialogue, Emilia. You don't need to give me a full recap."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Sorry," I mumbled.

His expression softened. "Don't be. I was only teasing. I enjoy hearing your voice." There was an unexpected tenderness in his tone that made my heart skip. "No one's ever taken the time to share their favorite show with me like this. Please, continue."

I cleared my throat, acutely aware of how long I'd been staring at him. Turning back to the screen, I picked up where I'd left off. "Um, right. So now this ICE agent is searching the hospital..."

As I spoke, Damien seemed to relax, drawing me closer. The warmth of his body next to mine was comforting as we lost ourselves in the unfolding drama.

Hours slipped by, the TV now playing some nondescript soap opera at low volume. We remained cuddled together on the sofa, wrapped in a cocoon of comfortable silence.

Damien's fingers began to trace the contours of my face with exquisite gentleness as if committing every curve and angle to memory. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His explorations continued, fingertips skimming along my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

I felt his minty breath ghost across my skin, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation. But reality came crashing back, and I found the strength to push him away gently. "I should—" I stammered, attempting to extricate myself from his embrace.

Before I could retreat, Damien's arms tightened around me. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

I bit my lip, unable to meet his sightless gaze. "This... it's not right," I managed.

"What? Calling you beautiful?" he countered, confusion coloring his words.

"Yes, and everything else," I insisted, my voice growing stronger. "You're engaged, Damien."

His jaw clenched, and I could sense his internal struggle. After a long pause, he offered a weak explanation: "It's complicated."

"Then explain it to me," I demanded, frustration seeping into my tone.

Damien opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly at a loss. "I can't," he finally admitted, defeat evident in his voice.

I couldn't suppress a bitter scoff. "Right. Of course not."

"Emilia—" he began, but I cut him off.

"It's fine, Damien. You don't owe me any explanations." I disentangled myself from his arms, and this time, he didn't try to stop me. As I stood, a whirlwind of emotions threatened to overwhelm me – disappointment, hurt, and an unwelcome surge of jealousy.

I knew I had no right to feel this way. I'd known from the start that his heart belonged to another. But that knowledge did little to ease the ache in my chest or quell the treacherous voice in my head that whispered how wrong his fiancée was for him.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I steadied my voice. "I have to go."

Without waiting for a response, I left the room, leaving Damien alone with the echoes of what might have been.

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