Chapter 2

Diana's POV

In the dim light of the reunion party's private room, someone brought up old stories.

A red-faced drunk swayed to his feet, wine glass in hand.

"If you ask me, Damian is truly devoted!"

"Back when Diana cheated and guilt-tripped him into a divorce, he actually drove through the night in freezing weather just to chase after her. If it were me..."

Before he could finish, the chatter in the room died instantly.

Several glances flickered in my direction.

Damian's fingers tightened around his wine glass. He immediately turned to look at me.

I acted as if I hadn't heard, simply raising my glass to drain the remaining wine.

When Damian didn't respond, the drunk grew bolder, chuckling as he continued.

"If you ask me, Damian, you should have married Cecilia back then!"

"Cecilia is so gentle and kind. If you two had gotten together, you'd have kids in school by now, right?"

He finished with a suggestive wink at Cecilia in the crowd.

Damian looked over.

Cecilia sat in the brightest spot, wearing a simple white dress, her long hair flowing softly over her shoulders. The light made her look especially pure.

She seemed flustered, biting her lower lip slightly.

Time seemed to stretch and freeze in that instant.

He looked at her. She looked back at him. Neither looked away first.

In that silent gaze, a thousand unspoken words seemed to flow between them, or perhaps it was just the haze of alcohol.

A full minute passed.

"See! I knew you still have feelings for Cecilia!"

The drunk let out a whistle, shattering the silence.

Someone beside him went pale. They lunged to cover his mouth.

"What are you talking about? Shut up if you're drunk."

Only then did Damian seem to snap awake, quickly turning to look at me.

I had already stood up.

Without looking at anyone, I simply grabbed my purse from the sofa and walked toward the door.

Damian instinctively stood up. His feet moved, as if he wanted to follow.

In the end, he stayed where he was.

When I got home, I took a long shower.

The warm water rushed over my skin but couldn't drive away the chill in my bones.

I was towel-drying my hair as I walked out of the bathroom. It was already late at night.

Finally, the sound of keys turning came from the entrance, followed by muffled voices and stumbling footsteps.

The door opened. Damian was practically being carried in by Cecilia.

He was very drunk, mumbling incoherently.

"Cecilia, don't... don't go..."

The man's murmurs came in fragments, carrying unconscious dependence.

Cecilia struggled to support him. Looking up and seeing me, she seemed not to notice my outstretched hand.

Guilt and unease appeared on her face.

"Diana, I'm sorry. Damian drank too much. The others asked me to bring him home. Let me help him to bed first?"

I said nothing, withdrawing my hand and stepping aside.

Cecilia helped him into the master bedroom. Rustling sounds came from inside.

The man occasionally groaned in discomfort. The woman soothed him in gentle tones.

After a while, Cecilia tiptoed out, nodded to me, and hurriedly left.

The door closed again. The house returned to silence.

I walked to the bedroom doorway without turning on the light.

Using the light leaking in from outside the window, I watched the man sleeping on the bed.

I walked over and sat down in the single armchair by the bed.

I don't know how much time passed before Damian frowned and groaned with thirst, instinctively reaching for the nightstand.

In the past, whenever he came home drunk, I always left a glass of honey water at just the right temperature there.

Tonight I hadn't prepared any.

His hand found nothing. His frown deepened as he propped himself up on his arms.

His tone carried the impatience of a hangover and an air of entitlement.

"Why didn't you pour me water?"