If someone had told me a month ago that I would be standing in front of Damian, telling him I was in love with him, I would have laughed—maybe even scoffed. We had spent so much time tangled in a mess of misunderstandings, sharp words, and stubborn silences that the idea of opening my heart to him had felt like a cruel joke.
And yet, here I was.
It was late evening when it happened. The sun had just slipped behind the trees, leaving streaks of fading gold across the horizon. The garden was quiet except for the whisper of wind through the leaves. The scent of pine was heavy in the air, grounding me even as my heart pounded against my ribs.
He had been avoiding me for days after our last fight. That distance had been worse than any argument—it was an absence I could feel in my bones. Ever
