I glanced at Damien’s collar and murmured, “Blueberry jam. From the café.”
He instinctively brushed at the stain, then froze. “You…”
“Calla’s bag is pretty,” I added, my voice calm.
Color rose in his cheeks, not from embarrassment but from anger. “You were following me? Seriously? She only came to me because she was upset. You know her family situation—she has no one else but me.” His voice sharpened. “Serena, can’t you be more generous? Why make a scene over something so pointless?”
A laugh slipped out of me, sharp and humorless. “What a coincidence then… I only happened to be there because of my follow-up appointment.”
Damien faltered, stammering, as though my words had struck a nerve. “She’s different. You—you have someone who cares about you.”
Before I could reply, his phone buzzed. Calla’s name lit the screen. He answered instantly.
“Damien,” she whimpered between choked sobs, “I fell. It hurts…”
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and strode toward the door. Halfway out, he hesitated, looking back at me. “Reflect on yourself first. I’ll take you to the souvenir shop tomorrow. And stop following me—you look like a clown.”
The door shut behind him, but the word echoed in my mind. Clown.
He was right. I only realized it now. I had been blind for far too long.
The next day, the drive to the shop was thick with silence. I slipped in my headphones, pretending to sleep. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, restless.
“The weather’s perfect for the beach lately,” he said, glancing at me. When I didn’t respond, he raised his voice. “I heard the Golden Coast Hotel’s really popular right now. A lot of celebrities are holding their weddings there.”
I hummed faintly without opening my eyes.
“Serena, are you even listening to me?” he snapped, irritation creeping in.
I cracked my eyes open. “Yes. So what?”
He faltered, forcing a laugh. “…Nothing. Just talking.”
A breeze blew in through the window, carrying the chill of the mountains. I turned to him, my tone quiet but firm. “Damien, is there anything you want to tell me about the wedding?”
It was the only time I asked—and it would be the last.
He avoided my gaze, offering a weak smile. “Leave it all to you. I trust you.”
I lowered my eyes. He was still acting. Still pretending. Even now, if he’d confessed, maybe… maybe I could have— No. Not anymore. Trust had already been wasted.
Inside the shop, I examined the custom molds for the pastries I had ordered. The snow-capped mountain design was exquisite, delicate enough to bring tears to my eyes. Just as I reached to taste one, a familiar laugh rang behind me.
“Damien? You came to buy me cream puffs?”
My chest tightened. Her. Again.
Calla spotted me and covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh—Serena? I didn’t see you there.” She glanced at the counter, all sweetness. “Are you picking souvenirs too? This place has the best cream puffs. Damien brings me here all the time.”
My fingers curled against my palm. So that was it. The place I’d heard about from a friend, the shop I’d thought I’d discovered—he had already shared it with her, over and over.
