Chapter 6

"You're being dramatic."

He slipped his AirPods back in and turned his back on me.

"God, women are exhausting."

He muttered into the mic.

"Thank god you're not high-maintenance, Chloe."

Chloe’s crisp laughter echoed through the room.

We met at an NYU alumni gala.

Back then, he actually made time for me.

He skipped networking events just to walk with me by the Hudson River.

He bought a twenty-thousand-dollar painting at the gallery just because I glanced at it.

But he set his boundaries from day one.

"I hate inefficiency."

"Texts and calls need a clear purpose."

"I am like this with everyone."

I bought that excuse for eight years.

Then I saw his chat with Chloe.

They sent endless paragraphs.

They shared inside jokes.

Their messages were full of pure warmth.

I saw his comments under every single one of her LinkedIn posts.

His words were always perfectly supportive.

He stayed up at 2 AM discussing life philosophy with her.

He never shared a single moment of vulnerability with me.

It was like a needle to the chest.

It slowly chipped away at me every single day.

That night, Damian never came to bedroom.

He locked himself in his office until sunrise.