The days that followed were softer than either of them expected. The tension that once filled every corner of the estate had begun to fade, replaced by something quieter, something neither Alessia nor Damian could quite name.
Damian had been different lately. Less guarded, less sharp. He still carried that air of control, but there was warmth now, hidden beneath the surface. Alessia noticed it in the way he spoke to her, in the way his eyes lingered a little longer when she smiled.
That afternoon, she was in the garden when he returned from the city. The sound of the car pulling up made her glance toward the driveway. Damian stepped out, holding a small bouquet of white lilies — her favorite.
She blinked, surprised. "What's this?"
He walked toward her, his tone casual but his eyes soft. "You said you liked lilies."
"I did," she said, taking them carefully. "But I didn't think you were listening."
"I always listen," he said quietly.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt different — lighter, charged with something unspoken.
"Thank you," she said finally, her voice gentle.
He gave a faint smile. "You're welcome."
That evening, Alessia decided to cook. The kitchen filled with the scent of herbs and roasted vegetables, the sound of soft music playing in the background. She moved with quiet focus, her hair tied loosely, her sleeves rolled up.
When Damian walked in, he stopped at the doorway, watching her for a moment.
"You're cooking?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
She turned, smiling. "Don't sound so surprised. I can cook."
"I didn't say you couldn't," he said, stepping closer. "I just didn't expect you to."
"Well," she said, turning back to the stove, "you brought me flowers. I thought I'd return the gesture."
He leaned against the counter, watching her. "Fair trade."
Dinner was simple but perfect — pasta, wine, and laughter that came easier than either of them expected. They talked about small things: her favorite books, his travels, the places they both wanted to see.
At one point, she laughed at something he said, and he found himself smiling — genuinely smiling — for the first time in a long while.
When the plates were cleared, they stayed at the table, the bottle of wine between them. The conversation slowed, replaced by a comfortable silence.
Alessia looked at him, her cheeks flushed from the wine. "You're not as terrible as I thought you were."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
She laughed softly. "Don't get used to it."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice low. "Too late."
Their eyes met — a quiet, lingering moment that neither of them tried to break. The air seemed to shift, the world narrowing to just the two of them.
Without realizing who moved first, their lips met. It wasn't planned, wasn't careful — just a soft, unexpected kiss that deepened before either of them could stop it.
When they finally pulled apart, Alessia's breath caught. "That… wasn't supposed to happen."
Damian's voice was quiet, steady. "Maybe it was."
She looked away, her heart racing, unsure whether to speak or smile. But when she glanced back at him, the warmth in his eyes made her forget every reason she had to hold back.
I should… get some rest," she said softly.
Damian nodded, his voice steady, though his thoughts were anything but. "You should."
She hesitated for a heartbeat, as if expecting him to stop her. When he didn't, she turned and walked toward the stairs, her steps slow, measured. Damian watched until she disappeared down the hallway before finally turning away himself.
They parted without another word.
The estate was quiet, but their minds were not.
In different rooms, under the same roof, they lay awake—both pretending this was something small, both knowing it wasn't.
And somewhere between thought and sleep, something new had already begun.