Ayla didn't know what to expect anymore.
The Damien she once knew sharp-tongued, unpredictable, cold had vanished like smoke.
In his place stood someone quieter. Thoughtful, even.
He no longer barked orders or hovered over her every move. Instead, he asked softly, "Do you need anything?" and meant it.
He stopped touching her without permission.
He stopped raising his voice.
The first time he offered to take her out, she almost said no. But something in his tone unhurried, gentle made her pause.
"Come on," he said, standing by the door, keys in hand. "You've been locked in this house too long. Let's go wherever you want."
And for the first time in years, she saw a glimpse of something she'd never seen in him before patience.
At the mall, he followed her quietly, letting her wander through aisles of dresses and books. When she picked something, he didn't comment. He just smiled and carried the bags.
When she stopped to admire a pair of shoes, he didn't push her to buy them.
He simply said, "If you like them, take them. You don't have to ask me."
It confused her more than it comforted her.
This man who once believed control was love was now learning how to love by letting go.
Back home, she expected the silence to return, but instead, he made tea for both of them.
He didn't sit too close, didn't ask questions. Just let the soft sound of rain fill the space between them.
"You don't have to forgive me," he said finally, his voice low. "I just want to be better. Even if you never come back to me."
Ayla didn't reply.
But that night, when she passed by his study, she saw him asleep on the couch, a book open on his chest one of her favorites.
And for a second, her heart betrayed her.
Maybe, just maybe, people could change.
Or maybe he was just learning what it truly meant to love without owning.