Damian did not intend to speak.
That was the strange thing about it. He had brought Ava into the room, allowed her to see what no one else ever did, but words had not been part of the plan. Silence had always been safer. Silence had always been easier to control.
Yet as Ava stood among the paintings, her eyes moving gently from canvas to canvas, something in him shifted.
Something different, it made Something in his chest soften and tighten at the same time.
it crept in slowly when defenses were already worn thin. His heart started to race as he stared at her. Why did she have that look in her eyes, why did it make his heart soften.
"She used to sit by the window in the mornings," Damian said, the memories he had pushed away for so long slowly resurfaced.
The words surprised him as much as they surprised her.
