Chapter 286: Why Didn’t You Come Back To Me?

Something painful crossed his face before he managed to conceal it. I hated myself for noticing, I hated that part of me still wanted to step closer when he looked hurt.

So I stayed put.

"You have a whole life now," I said. "A freaking impressive one."

He didn’t say anything.

"CEO of Lockwood Group, charity events, interviews, magazine covers, people practically now scramble for selfies with you."

His eyes narrowed just a bit.

"And apparently," I added, "there’s an actress."

His expression shifted immediately, and I regretted bringing it up, not because I didn’t want the info, but because I desperately did, which made it worse.

"Isabella Sommers," I said, forcing a casual tone...it didn’t work.

"Is that what you’ve heard?"

"I’ve heard the rumors."

"They’re not true."

His response came so quickly that I almost blinked in surprise. But I shrugged. "You don’t have to explain."

"I wasn’t explaining."

"Then don’t."

I glanced at my hands, noticing a small scratch near my thumb from earlier, probably from one of the champagne glasses at the reception.

I focused on it, since zoning in on a minor injury was a lot safer than looking at Damien.

"You know what the worst part was?" I asked.

Damien remained quiet.

"I honestly thought you’d forgotten me."

His breathing changed a bit.

I pressed on before he could respond. "I told myself you had moved on because, what else was I supposed to think? Four years is a long time."

My throat tightened. "You went back to your family. You became everything they wanted you to be. You built that perfect life, and I figured you must have come to realize they were right."

Damien’s expression hardened. "About what?"

"That I was a mistake...a set back, a distraction."

His face shifted, not in an exaggerated way, there were no shouts or sudden movements.

Just a small, devastating change that made him appear less like the untouchable CEO everyone held in high regard and more like the man I remembered from Room 25.

"You were never a mistake." His voice was low.

I looked away. "Maybe you didn’t think so back then."

"I don’t think so now."

"You can’t possibly know what you think now."

"I do."

"You can’t."

"I can."

"Damien—"

"You’re wrong."

The firmness in his tone made me freeze, he took a small step closer but noticed how I stiffened and halted.

For a moment, he just looked at me.

Then he took a step back, giving me the space I hadn’t realized I needed, which somehow hurt more.

"I never forgot you," he said quietly.

My chest tightened. "You... didn’t?"

"No." The word slipped out quietly, almost painfully.

I stared at him and he looked away for the first time since we stepped outside.

"And I never stopped intending to come back."

"Then why didn’t you?"

His jaw tightened. "The one-year plan became impossible."

"That’s no explanation for why you couldn’t at least text one in a while."

"I know."

The irony of hearing those words from him made me almost laugh.

"You had four years." I said.

"I came the moment I finally could."

I shook my head. "And that’s supposed to make me feel better?"

"No."

He answered immediately. "It’s not meant to make you feel anything."

I stared at him. "Then why are you even here?"

His gaze met mine. "Because I wanted to see you."

The sheer honesty cut deeper than anything else he’d said. I swallowed. "You could have seen me before."

"I couldn’t."

"Why?"

Again, silence. My frustration flared up again. "You keep saying that, but you won’t tell me why."

Damien gazed out toward the garden, his shoulders tense. For the first time since entering that ballroom, he looked uncertain...not afraid. Damien Lockwood didn’t look afraid. Just uncertain and somehow, that scared me more.

"You don’t understand what happened."

"Then explain it."

"I will."

"When?"

His eyes returned to mine. "When I can."

I shot him a disbelieving look. "You actually think I’ll accept that?"

"No."

"Good."

"I expect you to hate me for it." My mouth opened, but no words came.

Damien’s voice lowered. "I couldn’t contact you, Oliver. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to."

For the first time that night, he didn’t sound like the revered CEO; he sounded like Damien.

The Damien I remembered. The one who sat beside me on a couch at two in the morning because I couldn’t fall asleep.

The one who left his blanket with me when I was too stubborn to admit I was cold. The one who asked me to wait for wait for him.

My eyes stung and I blinked rapidly. "I don’t understand. Why couldn’t you contact me at least once?"

Nothing.

"Was it your family?" I pressed and his eyes shifted, a tell that I had struck a nerve. "Did they do something to you?"

"Oliver—"

"Did they?"

He looked at me, and for a brief moment, I thought he might spill it all. Instead, he didn’t say a word.

I felt spent. Not angry, just exhausted. Four years of wondering had followed me to this terrace. Four years of pretending not to care had led us to this moment, and now that Damien stood before me, I didn’t feel relieved.

I felt like I was a battlefield of emotions, none of which brought snacks.

"I think we should stop," I said.

His eyes narrowed. "Stop?"

"This." I gestured between us. "The conversation. Whatever this is supposed to be."

"Oliver—"

"We’re older now." The words sounded odd...almost final. "We’ve lived separate lives for years."

He stared at me. "You have your life. I have mine."

"That doesn’t mean—"

"It does." I forced a smile. "You should go back inside."

He didn’t move. "Go back to your company, your family and your perfect life."

His expression tightened. "It isn’t perfect."

"It’s good enough."

"No, it’s not."

I ignored him.

"And I’ll go back to mine." I turned toward the terrace doors, and for a moment, I thought he might stop me.

I felt a slight movement behind me. I paused, but didn’t turn around.

Then I heard his quiet voice. "Oliver."

I closed my eyes, my hand tightening around the door handle. I wanted to turn around. God, I wanted to.

But instead, I opened the door.

Warm light flooded the terrace, washing over the cool stone. The music from the reception grew louder, and someone inside shouted what sounded suspiciously like Joey clamoring for another round of drinks.

I stepped forward and didn’t look back.

I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to keep walking.

So, I headed toward the light, the noise, the wedding, the laughter, and the people who knew me as I was now, leaving Damien standing alone behind me with all the answers he still hadn’t provided.

I had spent four years convincing myself that the past was over.

Tonight, I had told Damien to forget it too, as if it were easy.

But the way my hands trembled said otherwise.