Iris’s POV
I’d picked up Ryder’s shirt from the dry cleaner’s that Sunday morning, freshly pressed and folded, and set it on the table with the intention of having it sent back to him later in the day.
I was in the middle of finding a box for it when I heard the front door open.
Damian walked in wearing a mask that covered half his face, and for a second I genuinely didn’t recognize him until he pulled it down.
The scratches had scabbed over, thin lines running from his cheekbone to his jaw.
It should have looked painful.
Instead, paired with the soft, sheepish smile he was wearing, it just looked absurd, like a man trying to look tender while wearing the aftermath of a bar fight.
I had to press my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
“Oh Damian, you’re back?” I couldn’t hide the shock.
I honestly hadn’t been expecting today.
“Yea,” he said, setting his bag down.
His voice became gentle in that way he’d saved for when he wanted something.
“I know I should’ve called first.”
He came closer, and I caught the way he angled his face slightly, like he wanted me to notice the wounds, to feel guilty over them.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, these past few days.
About that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I know I came on too strong.
I didn’t mean to act so cold.
What I’m trying to say is…
I missed you, Iris.”
I lowered my eyes, letting my shoulders draw in slightly, the picture of a shy, forgiving wife.
Inside, something in my stomach churned.
He missed me?
The same week he’d been whispering promises to his lover.
And now here he stood, dressed up in gentleness, waiting for me to melt.
“I understand you.”
He leaned even closer, his hand brushing a stand of hair from my face.
“Do you though? I rushed back home because I’ve missed you so much, Iris. A lot!” I could see the lust in his eyes, and it made my skin crawl with pure disgust.
I pulled back, like I had something important to do.
“Coffee? Tea? Let me go…I was boiling some water earlier. Let me just—”
Damian’s eyes slowly drifted to the coffee table, where Ryder’s shirt still sat in its neat wrap.
“Is that… a man’s shirt? That’s not mine?” he asked, tilting his head toward it.
“Oh that?” I blinked.
“That’s uh, you won’t believe it. It belongs to Ruby’s boyfriend,” I said quickly, hoping my voice hadn’t betrayed me.
“She left it at my place by mistake and asked me to have it cleaned before she gave it back to him. You know how forgetful she gets.”
Damian looked at it for another moment, then simply shrugged.
“Her boyfriend’s?”
”Yeah,” I replied a little too quickly.
“Alright,” he said, his suspicion fading.
“Just make sure Ruby gets it back to him.”
”You got it!” I chuckled along, grateful he hadn’t caught on.
And just like that, his attention moved on.
Before he could say anything else, I pushed away the lingering guilt and forced a smile.
“You must be hungry. Why don’t I go make breakfast?” Without waiting for his answer, I hurried into the kitchen.
The moment I was out of his sight, I released a long breath and pressed a hand against my chest.
That had been too close.
I pushed the thought aside and focused on breakfast instead, deciding to settle on making some scrambled eggs with grilled chicken and a bowl of fresh salad.
By the time Damian joined me, I had already prepared two dishes and arranged everything on the table.
He took one look at the food and frowned.
“That’s it?”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?.”
He clicked his tongue as he sat down.
“It’s just…it doesn’t look like it’ll be enough for me.”
The complaint almost made me roll my eyes.
Still, I ignored him, my lips pressing into a fine pause as I took my seat. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
A few minutes later, he was shoveling food into his mouth like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.
I leaned back in my chair, watching him in disbelief.
The nerve of this man!
I remembered, with a bitterness that settled cold in my chest, all those times when I used to cover the entire table with soups, roasted meats, three or four side dishes, all made with hours of effort because I still believed back then that effort meant something to him.
He would barely touch half of it most of the time, always distracted, always somewhere else in his head even when he was sitting right across from me.
He had apparently developed an appetite the moment I stopped trying to impress him.
That night, after dinner, Damian had gone to the bathroom to shower.
I stood up, heading to the guestroom.
I was halfway down the hallway when a hand closed around my wrist, making me freeze suddenly.
Slowly, I turned around and found Damian with damp hair and a towel slung over his shoulders.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Aren’t you sleeping in the room tonight again?”
I glanced toward the guest room.
“No, I’m going to sleep there. My period started, remember?”
His eyes followed my gaze before returning to me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
“You’ve been sleeping in the guest room a lot lately, you know?”
I let my posture straighten to meet his gaze.
What was he yapping on about now?
There was nothing accusing in his tone, but something about the way he looked at me made me uneasy.
Forcing a shrug, I managed to say boldly.
“You’re just imagining things, Damian.”
His gaze lingered on my face as if he was searching for something.
After a long second,” I muttered.
“Alright. Goodnight, Damian.” Then turned to leave for the guest room door.
Behind me, he replied, “Goodnight, Iris.”
I quickly stepped inside and locked the door behind me.