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Chapter 13: We're Home!

Amelia's POV:

It was 4:37 am when I heard footsteps approaching my bedroom.

I knew it wasn't a burglar because I had long gotten accustomed to the sound of Damien's fancy French shoes clicking against the floor.

I instinctively wrapped the covers tighter around me, pretending to be asleep when in reality I hadn't slept a wink even after hours of tossing and turning.

I heard the door knob turning as light from the corridor now flooded my room; my body was stiff, and I knew that Damien was well-aware of the fact that I was on high alert.

I felt him looming over me, and my breathing that I was working so hard on stabilizing; betrayed me.

"You scared me half to death when I didn't find you at home." He whispered, his voice evidently worried and exhausted, but much against my desire to turn around and pull him into my embrace, I didn't.

I was hurt.

The pains of the past week all clouded over me at once, completely obstructing my vision of the sun and everything pleasant in unison.

"Amelia." He murmured, tugging on every heartstring I had. I felt his hand softly on my shoulder, and my breathing hitched.

I felt my bed dip, and I heard him; the shuffling of his suit jacket, and the clicking of his shoes both being taken off.

He didn't move for what felt like hours, and I was afraid my muscles would never unknot from the incessant tension I felt.

I felt his hands on me again, this time on my waist, and I squirmed, squeezing my eyes shut.

Damien sighed heftily, and I could already imagine his creases becoming more prominent. My guilt - too - was becoming more pronounced.

"Just-just scoot over, Amelia." His voice was too worn out, and I couldn't keep the firm unwavering facade any longer, without a word, I scooted over still not facing him.

He laid down, shuffling for several moments to find a semi-comfortable position in the crammed space.

I wasn't sure if he wanted to speak, or if he simply wanted to sleep. He didn't make a move, nor did he utter a word.

I felt his body heat radiating onto me; the familiarity welcoming me into it's embrace. The empty house didn't feel too empty, and my worry about being lonely subsided.

"The last time I fell in love I was 28." Damien whispered, his voice - as low as it was -resonated around the quiet room.

I shifted slightly, listening intently to him without a clue as to where he was heading with his words.

"Her name was Adriana, and I- I used to love her so much." He chuckled, but it sounded pained, I felt his pain resonating through my bones. "I've always known your parents, Amelia, they were already together then and I used to admire their love. When I met Adria- her, when I met her I thought I'd live a love like your parents', I thought I found the love of my life, the woman I'd start a family with."

Every word felt like a harsh jab to my heart, my stomach was knotting up and I wanted to pull him to me; take his pain away because I knew where this was heading.

"She left me." Damien whispered, his voice a mere croak, barely coming out, and I couldn't bear the thought of not touching him any longer; my hands extended behind me, my fingers caressing his limp ones, and that was it - we softly felt each other's skin under our fingertips neither of us attempting to take any step further.

He knew I was there, even though my back was physically turned to him, but emotionally I was bound to him.

"She left me for someone else, someone better because according to her strategical tactics he was richer, had more free time and a better social status; she - uh - she wasn't really willing to wait for me until I got my life on track, I was barely graduated, I hadn't gotten my chances yet." I wasn't sure why Damien was sharing this part of his past with me now, but for the first time in a while, I felt more connected to him as if him opening up was a portrayal of trust and vulnerability. To me, it raised my credits in his life that I thought were deteriorating.