Chapter 4 I hear you

Lira POV:

The car ride was quiet, just the hum of the road and the tired ache in my legs after a long day on set. My assistant was chatting on the phone beside me, but i barely heard a word.

I was staring at her phone, at the headline that refused to disappear.

"The couple of the century."

"Mr. and Mrs. CEO: A Love Story or Business Deal?"

"He Came to Set, She Blushed. Is Love in the Air After All?"

There was a picture of Damian standing beside me, and another one where he was giving out snacks to everyone. And another one, a picture of him removing a leaf from my hair, like it was the rarest gem. And I was smiling, smiling like a girl who hadn't signed divorce papers just days ago.

I locked the my phone screen.

I didn't want to be looking at those false headlines.

What exactly is he up to?

"Ma'am, we're home," my assistant said gently.

Home.

Only... it wasn't the same.

I paused at the door when i stepped inside. Something... changed.

Not just something, everything's changed.

Gone were the cold grey walls and minimalist black furniture Damian used to love. Now, the walls were soft ivory. There were peachy curtains, flowing and feminine, with plants. Everywhere. I blinked at the string lights along the hallway, the floral scent of something warm and alive lingering in the air.

The bookshelf in the living room? It wasn't his usual selection of economics and mergers anymore. Now, my favorite fantasy series lined the middle shelf. Some were worn at the edges, like someone had touched them recently.

The couch? Not that rigid leather monstrosity anymore. A plush cream sectional had replaced it, the kind I once pointed at in a magazine after our wedding and said, "If we ever make this place ours, that's the couch I'd want to sink into after a long day."

I had said it once.

He hadn't replied.

That was three years ago.

How did he remember all these?

Every single one of them.

How did he know I loved reading? And fantasy for that.

My best interior designs, favourite scent, colour and flowers. How?

My fingers shook as I touched the velvet pillow covers, it was burnt orange and rust red. My favorite autumn colors.

There was more.

In the dining room, a canvas hung on the wall. A painting. Abstract, wild strokes of gold and rust and pale lilac. It was mine. My own drawing. The one I had painted in art school but left behind when i moved into his house.

How did he even find it?

"Miss Lira," the housekeeper greeted with a soft smile. "Mr. Damian asked us to change a few things this week. Said it was long overdue."

I nodded, mute, my throat too full.

She walked into the kitchen, and froze.

There was a sticky note on the fridge. His handwriting.

"If you ever want to bake again, everything's stocked. Yes, even almond flour - whatever that is.

- D"

I laughed. It came out broken, surprised. My eyes were burning.

I hadn't baked since our second month of marriage. He never liked sweets.

I once baked a cake for us, but i ended up eating it alone. I stopped baking then.

My phone buzzed, I brought it out and saw a message.

Damian:

Didn't like seeing you so tired today. I remembered you once said light colors made you breathe easier. Hope the house breathes with you now. I remember everything you say. Even the quiet things. I'll be back late tonight, you can go to bed without me.

I looked at the message for a while, unsure of what to say.

What has gotten into him? Was the divorce a turning point for him?

I headed to our room to freshen up.

I took my bath, wore my night gown, and sat on the edge of the bed.

The throw blanket at the edge of the bed? It was the one she told him once, offhandedly, reminded her of home. It was a gift from her late mother, a color and texture she hadn't seen in years. How did he find it?

The lamp on her bedside table was dim and golden, not the harsh white light he used to prefer for late-night reports. There were even those scented candles, apple cinnamon, her comfort scent. She'd lit one tonight, just to see if it still made her feel safe. It did. It did too well.

I kept on thinking of Damian's attitude today. His change of personality.

The headlines today was "Nations first love Lira Hart and Billionaire husband's happy marriage."

Happy marriage my feet. What happy marriage? Just because he showed up at my movie set, and played the sweet and caring husband, he's now branded as the best husband.

Then I heard footsteps. I knew it was him.

I hurriedly laid down, pretending I was asleep.

The door opened and I could already perceive his scent. It's one I would always remember anytime.

I forced myself not to open my eyes and look at him.

It would be awkward for me, cause u didn't know what to say to him after hat he did.

Why was I feeling nervous all of a sudden?

I could literally hear my heartbeat.

Damn I should have stayed awake.

The footsteps got louder, and felt closer.

Then it stopped. His scent filled my air, someone was standing in front of me. I could feel it.

I felt someone covering me with a duvet,as I rushed to bed without covering myself with it.

His hand, caressing my hair. His fingers brushing through my skin.

Fuck. What is this feeling? Damian touched me?

This is the first time our skin touched. The first time he willingly touched me.

The hand stopped. Then he left. I still heard his footsteps around the room.

What the fuck just happened? Oh my God.

Did something posses him?

This, this can't be the Damian I had known.

If it is, what the hell happened this last three years?