The morning still carried the gentle calm of a house slowly waking. The faint aroma of coffee and warm bread lingered in the air — a fragile peace that felt too delicate to last.
Aveline had just left the dining room, her footsteps soft against the marble floor. The sun filtered through the tall windows, scattering slanted beams of gold that painted the hallway in quiet light. Her fingers brushed the railing as she walked, her heart steady for the first time in years.
But then — a sound.
A sharp clatter. Muffled voices. A shout.
She froze mid-step, her brows knitting together. The noise came from outside — loud, urgent, chaotic.
Her pulse quickened, but she steadied her breathing and followed the sound. The closer she got to the front door, the clearer it became: the shouts of men, the scuffle of shoes against gravel, and then — her name.
"Aveline!"
The voice struck through her chest like a cold blade. It was rough, frantic… and hauntingly familiar.
Her hand hesitated on the brass handle before she pushed the door open.
The morning sunlight burst through, warm and bright, but the sight before her froze her in place.
At the foot of the steps, a man was struggling against two of Lucian's bodyguards. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his hair a tangled mess, his face pale and drawn. His shoes were dusty, his breath heavy, his eyes wide with feverish desperation.
Damian.
For a brief second, it was as if her past had torn open the veil between lives and stepped back into her world — desperate, reckless, and uninvited.
"Aveline!" he called again, his voice raw. "Let me go! I need to talk to her!"
Aveline didn't move. She only stared at him, her expression unreadable. Inside her chest, her heart clenched — not with affection, but with the sting of memory.
Behind her, she sensed a familiar stillness — a quiet presence that didn't need words.
Lucian.
He had stopped midway down the stairs, one hand casually resting in his pocket. His face was calm — too calm. But beneath that composure, his fists were tight at his sides, the veins on his knuckles visible. His jaw was set, his eyes cold and steady as they fixed on the scene before him.
The morning light caught the edge of his profile, and for a fleeting moment, Aveline saw what most people missed — the silent restraint of a man who could destroy with a look but chose not to.
Aveline's lips parted slightly. She wanted to say something — perhaps to reassure him that she could handle this — but his gaze didn't move from Damian. He remained where he was, watching, waiting. Testing.
Her fingers curled against her dress.
She turned her eyes back to Damian, who was still thrashing against the guards, shouting. "You think you can keep me away from her?!" he yelled at Lucian, spittle flying from his lips. "You may have married her, but you'll never have her heart! She belongs to me — she always has!"
The words hung in the air like poison.
Aveline's breath trembled, and she caught the faintest twitch in Lucian's jaw — nothing more. His silence didn't waver, but the way his shoulders stiffened said enough.
And that silence made Damian's shouting sound smaller. Pathetic, even.
Aveline descended the last few steps. Each movement was slow, measured — deliberate. Her slippers whispered against the marble as she crossed the threshold, her expression calm as still water.
For a moment, Damian froze, watching her approach. His defiance faltered, replaced by something uncertain. Hope, maybe.
"Aveline…" His tone softened, almost pleading. "Tell them to let me go. You know me. You know us. Whatever this is—"
"What we had," she said quietly, cutting him off, "was a mistake."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it sliced through the noise like a blade. Even the bodyguards stilled.
Damian's mouth opened, but no sound came. He blinked, stunned, then laughed — the sound harsh and broken. "You don't mean that. You can't. I know you, Aveline. You said you loved me—"
"I said a lot of things when I was foolish." Her gaze didn't waver. "When I thought I knew what love meant."
Damian stared at her, his face twisting between anger and disbelief. "No, you know i love you Aveline, and i know you love me too and not him." He jerked his head toward Lucian, who still stood silently near the entrance, unreadable. "Tell me, did this bastard do something to yo...?"
Aveline moved before he could finish.
Her hand shot out, swift and fierce.
The sound of the slap cracked through the courtyard.
Damian's head snapped to the side. For a moment, there was nothing — no words, no breath — only the echo of that sound against the marble walls.
The bodyguards tightened their grips but didn't speak. Even the wind seemed to hold still.
Aveline's hand trembled once before she drew it back, her voice low and steady. "Don't you dare speak about him that way," she said. "Not to my husband and in my presence."
Her eyes glistened, but not with weakness. The emotion there was steel — the kind forged through pain and rebirth.
Damian turned his face slowly toward her, his cheek already red where her hand had landed. "You hit me…" he muttered, disbelief coloring his tone. "You… hit me?"
She didn't flinch. "I should've done that a long time ago."
For a brief second, she looked at him — truly looked. The man she once believed she loved was standing before her, undone, pitiful, blind to everything but his own pride.
How did I ever let myself fall for you? she thought bitterly.
Behind her, Lucian remained silent. He hadn't moved an inch, hadn't uttered a single word. But his eyes — dark, deep, and cold — lingered on Aveline. There was something in his gaze that hadn't been there before. Not warmth, not approval… but quiet recognition.
Aveline turned to him slowly. Their eyes met for a fleeting heartbeat. She didn't speak, didn't smile — but the message was clear. I'll handle this.
Lucian's gaze softened by a fraction — almost imperceptibly — before he turned slightly toward his men.
"Take him away," he said at last, his voice calm and even.
The bodyguards nodded and began to drag Damian back. He struggled, shouting, his voice cracking. "Aveline! You'll regret this! You'll come crawling back to me, you'll see!"
Aveline didn't respond. She simply turned her back to him, her figure poised and quiet as the guards dragged him out through the gates.
When the noise finally faded, silence returned — deep and heavy.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the distant sky, the morning light spilling gently over her face. Her heart was steady, but her fingers shook faintly at her sides. She hadn't realized how much she'd been holding back until now.
The sound of footsteps approached — measured, unhurried.
Lucian stopped beside the open doorway but didn't speak. He didn't ask. He didn't question. He just looked at her — a long, quiet gaze that said everything words couldn't.
Aveline didn't turn to meet his eyes. Instead, she exhaled softly, her tone low and almost weary.
"It's over."
Aveline tiptoed closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"Come back early," she murmured.
A faint flicker crossed his eyes — gone as soon as it appeared.
She smiled, quiet and brief. "Goodbye."