Chapter 2

"Damien," my voice is still shaking, "if you don't have feelings for me, we can part ways like adults. There's no need to humiliate me like this."

"Feelings?" He says it like it's a joke. "Ivy, did your father have feelings for you?"

"Did your ex have feelings for you?"

"When you poured your heart out to people — did any of them have feelings for you?"

He insists on talking like this. Insists on making me admit — every relationship I've ever fought to hold onto never truly belonged to me.

"They all did, I guess?" He answers his own question, his tone suddenly softer. "At least once upon a time."

My tears finally fall.

Not because he's being cruel — but because for one terrible second, I think he's right.

"Signing or not?" He holds out the pen, impatient now.

I reach out and take it.

I flip to page two, clause five: Should Party B become pregnant, she must handle it on her own…

My hand freezes.

Damien adds casually from beside me:

"Relax. I won't let that happen. My fiancée's family is very traditional — no bastards before the wedding."

Fiancée.

The title I craved for six years — and it was never mine. Not for a single second.

"Damien, what if I told you I'm already—"

The words reach my lips and die there.

Forget it.

What would it change?

I lower my gaze and say flatly: "What if I told you my mother and I already discussed it — we're planning a wedding next month. Would you still be making me sign this?"

"Your mother?" He laughs. "That useless woman drowned herself in the ocean. Who exactly did you discuss this with?"

He exhales slowly, smoke blurring his expression.

"Even without all this mess between us, I had no plans to get married this young."

"Next month? You've got quite the imagination."

I close my eyes.

Six years. We're both pushing thirty. That's not young.

A wedding that never happens , because from the very beginning, it was never going to.

I open my eyes. My fingers finally stop trembling. I sign the last page.

"Good girl." Damien picks up the contract, smiling with satisfaction. "Everything stays the same. Only difference — from now on, you call me Mr. Krest."

He leans down and presses a cold kiss to my forehead.

"Be good."

He leaves.

The door closes softly. I look down at the bank card.

Slowly, I sink to the floor and bury my face in my knees.

Outside, it starts to rain.

As hard as the night six years ago when he pulled me out of the storm.

Back then, he was the one holding the umbrella.

Now he's the one pushing me into the rain.

I don't know how long I stay there. My legs go numb. My tears dry up.

I stand slowly, walk to the bathroom, turn on the faucet, and splash cold water on my face.

Until that face in the mirror is calm again.

Then I pick up my phone and dial a number.

"Mom. You were right. I lost."

"That thing you mentioned before… don't wait. I'm ready to start."

A pause on the other end. "Are you sure? Once it begins, there's no turning back."

I look out the window. "I'm sure."