The morning after felt different. The air in the house carried a quiet warmth, the kind that lingers after something unspoken has changed. Alessia woke with a faint smile she couldn't quite explain. The memory of the night before — the laughter, the wine, the kiss replayed in her mind like a secret she wasn't ready to share.
Downstairs, Damian was already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee. When she walked in, he looked up, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening.
"Good morning," he said.
"Morning," she replied, her voice a little shy.
"You slept well?"
"I did," she said, "You?"
He nodded. "Better than usual."
They stood there for a moment, the silence between them comfortable. Then Alessia smiled faintly. "You're making coffee now? Should I be worried?"
He smirked. "I can handle a coffee machine, Alessia."
"I'll believe it when I taste it."
He handed her the cup, and she took a sip, then raised an eyebrow. "Not bad."
"Not bad?" he repeated. "That's high praise coming from you."
She laughed softly, and the sound filled the room like sunlight.
Later that day, they went for a walk through the gardens. The winter air was crisp, the sky pale and clear. Damian walked beside her, hands in his pockets, his usual guardedness replaced by something gentler.
"You've been quiet," he said after a while.
"I'm thinking," she replied.
"About?"
She hesitated. "About how strange this feels. Peaceful, I mean. After everything."
He nodded slowly. "It's strange for me too."
She looked at him, her tone softer. "You're not as cold as you pretend to be."
He gave a small smile. "Don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my reputation."
She laughed again, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
They walked in silence for a while longer, the sound of their footsteps blending with the rustle of the wind through the trees.
When they reached the fountain, Alessia stopped, turning to face him. "Damian," she said quietly, "why did you really marry me?"
He met her gaze, his expression serious now. "At first, it was business. Obligation. But now…" He paused, searching for the right words. "Now I'm not so sure anymore."
Her breath caught. "What do you mean?"
He stepped closer, his voice low. "I mean that somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like an arrangement."
The world seemed to be still around them. Alessia's heart raced, her pulse quickening as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Damian…" she whispered.
He pulled her closer "You don't have to say anything."
She didn't.
He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers with quiet intention. The kiss was soft, heavy with all the things left unspoken between them.
When they finally pulled apart, she looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "You're going to make this complicated."
He smiled faintly. "It already is."
That evening, they had dinner together again, no tension, no pretense. Just quiet conversation and the occasional glance that said more than words could.
When the meal ended, Damian poured them each a glass of wine. "To new beginnings," he said.
Alessia smiled, clinking her glass against his. "To not hating each other anymore."
He laughed softly. "I'll drink to that."
The evening stretched on, and their conversation drifted from one topic to another– books, travel, the small things that made them laugh. Alessia's voice grew softer with every word, her sentences slowing, trailing off into quiet sighs.
Damian noticed her struggle to keep her eyes open. "Alessia…" he murmured gently.
Her head lolled slightly to the side, and a soft yawn escaped her lips. "I… I think I…" she began, but her words dissolved, and her eyes closed. She had fallen asleep mid-sentence.
Without hesitation, Damian lifted her carefully into his arms. The warmth of her resting against him felt natural, comforting. He carried her upstairs, every step measured and quiet, until he laid her down in the bedroom and tucked the covers around her.
Alessia slept peacefully, and Damian watched her for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Then he settled on the other side of the bed. The room was still, the quiet wrapping around them like a soft promise, and for the first time in a long while, both of them slept — near each other, safe, and thinking of one another even in dreams.
For the first time since their marriage began, the house didn't feel like a cage. It felt like home.