Lilia’s POV

The plane was filled with the usual hum of engines and the soft murmur of passengers, but all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. The tension between Damien and me was thick, suffocating like a fog that neither of us dared to break. He had no reply to my question, and now, sitting across from each other in the first-class cabin, the silence grew louder.

Damien kept his eyes on the window, his jaw set in that familiar tightness I had come to know so well. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind—whether he was going to say something, anything, to make this situation better. But I knew better. Damien rarely opened up when it mattered most.

I stared at my lap, gripping the edge of the armrest. The weight of the past few weeks—the lies, the hurt, the betrayal—hung heavily on my chest. My fingers trembled slightly as I tried to steady my breathing. I wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet. Not until I could figure out how to untangle the mess that had become my life.

We didn’t exchange a single word during the flight. I didn’t even look at him again until the plane touched down. The city skyline greeted me through the window, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. Damien’s presence, the way he had always been my anchor, now felt like a distant memory, one I was struggling to hold on to.

When the plane finally landed, I collected my belongings in silence. Damien followed me off the jet bridge, the cold air of the airport hitting me as we walked through the terminal. My heart was racing, but not because of excitement—no, this was fear. Fear of what I was about to do.

I had made up my mind. I needed time away. Time away from Damien, from his world, from everything that had become so suffocating. I couldn’t keep living in this toxic cycle, pretending everything was fine when it was falling apart.

When we finally got home, I moved quickly. I didn’t bother to explain myself to him. Damien stood in the doorway of the living room, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“I’m going to my parents’ house,” I said, my voice steady, but there was a sharpness to it. “I need some time off, Damien. I need to think.”

“Lilia, don’t do this,” he said, stepping into the room, his voice low and pleading. “We can talk. I can explain everything. Just don’t leave. Not like this.”

I shook my head, packing my things into a small suitcase. “No, Damien. I’m not doing this with you anymore. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

His expression faltered, the usual control slipping as he took a step closer to me. “I don’t understand. You think that by leaving, it’s going to fix things? You think running away will solve all of this?”

I paused, my hands stilling for a moment before I zipped up my bag. “It’s not about fixing things anymore. It’s about me finding myself again. I’ve lost who I am in this mess with you.”

Damien’s face twisted in frustration, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. But I wasn’t going to let him sway me. I had made up my mind, and nothing was going to change it.

“I need time,” I repeated, my voice firmer this time. “I need to breathe. I’m leaving, Damien.”

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. Damien’s gaze softened, but there was nothing left to say. He opened his mouth, but the words never came. Instead, he watched as I turned and walked out of the apartment.

Dinner at my parents’ house felt like a welcome escape. The warmth of the familiar surroundings, the smell of my mother’s cooking, and the comforting chatter of my parents made me feel at peace for the first time in days.

“Lilia, it’s good to have you back,” my mother said, her eyes full of love as she served me a heaping plate of food. “You’ve been so busy lately. I hope you’ve come to stay for a while.”

I smiled softly, grateful for their unconditional love. “I’m staying for as long as I need, Mom. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

My father raised an eyebrow. “Everything alright? You’re not usually this quiet.”

I shrugged, pushing the food around on my plate. “Just… need some time to myself. That’s all.”

The doorbell rang just as we were finishing dinner, and I glanced up in surprise. Who could be visiting at this hour?

My mother’s eyes lit up as she walked toward the door. “Maybe it’s your husband, Damien?”

Damien. Of course. I hadn’t expected him to come here, but somehow, I wasn’t surprised. He always had a way of finding me, even when I didn’t want him to.

I stood from the table just as the door opened, and there he was—Damien, standing in the doorway.

Lilia’s POV

He was holding a bottle of expensive wine, a gesture that didn’t match the frustration in his eyes.

“Damien,” my father said, his voice neutral but welcoming. “What brings you here?”

Damien hesitated for a moment, then spoke, his voice rough. “I thought I should drop by. I wanted to talk. I… wanted to apologize.”

I felt my heart twist, but I didn’t let the emotion show. My parents exchanged glances, but they didn’t ask any questions. Instead, my mother motioned for him to come inside.

“Well, come in then,” she said cheerfully. “There’s always room for one more at the table.”

I stayed quiet as Damien entered, his eyes finding mine almost immediately. I could see the frustration, the hurt, and the confusion in his gaze. But none of it mattered anymore. I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me into staying. Not this time.

I couldn't even bear to stay in the same room as he was. So I wished I could just leave them all here.

The evening passed in a blur of conversation that I barely registered. Damien stayed for dinner, but every word he spoke felt like a reminder of how much I had lost. How much we had both lost. He tried to talk to me several times, but I remained distant, my responses curt, my thoughts focused on the quiet space I had created for myself.

Dinner was winding down, but I could hardly stomach another bite. The conversation around the table felt distant, muffled by the storm brewing inside me. I couldn’t stay here, not with Damien’s presence lingering in the air, suffocating me. I needed space, needed air.

“I’m going outside for a bit,” I said abruptly, standing from the table.

My parents exchanged a glance, but they didn’t stop me. They knew me well enough to understand when I needed time alone. I didn’t even wait for them to say anything more. I just slipped out the back door, the cool night air hitting me like a slap to the face.

The garden was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The tension of the last few days, the hurt, the lies—it was all crashing down on me.

But I didn’t get the peace I sought. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to find Damien walking toward me, his expression hard.

“Lilia,” he called softly, his voice strained. “We need to talk.”

I shook my head before he could say more. “No, Damien. I’m done talking. I can’t do this anymore.”

He reached for my arm, but I stepped back, putting distance between us. “You can’t just walk away. You can’t keep shutting me out like this.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” I replied, my voice cold, though my heart was pounding. “I’m just done. Done with trying to make something work that was never meant to work. You never touched me, Damien. You never really tried. You left me to fill the gaps with lies and silence, and for what? For your pride?”

Damien’s jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists. “I didn’t want to hurt you. But I’ve never been good at… expressing how I feel.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “That’s the problem, Damien. You never expressed anything. You kept everything locked away. And thankfully, we never had any children, ‘cause if we did, it would have been worse. Much worse.”

The words hung in the air between us, sharp and cutting. Damien’s face faltered, but he didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.

I turned away, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. “I’ve left you, Damien. You can’t keep following me around, thinking you can fix this. It’s done.”

Without another word, I walked away from him, from the man I once thought I could love. I was going to head to his house with a cab, pick everything I could find and leave.

Lilia’s POV

“You don’t mean that,” Damien’s voice cracked, a rare tremor in his usually composed demeanor. “Lilia, we don’t have to do this.”

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Yes, Damien. We do.” My voice was steady, but my heart was breaking. “Let’s end this while there’s still a shred of dignity left. You’ll be free to pursue what you really want.”

His expression darkened—confusion, regret, maybe even anger flickering across his face. But he didn’t deny it. We both knew the truth: he had always been distant, always somewhere else, even when he was right beside me.

“You’re imagining things,” he said, his voice low and restrained. “There’s nothing—no one else.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t insult me, Damien. This isn’t just about another woman; it’s about us. Or rather, the lack of us. We’ve been nothing more than strangers playing house.”

His jaw tightened, his silence confirming what I already knew. I forced myself to stay calm, though my chest burned with unspoken words.

“I’m leaving, Damien,” I said firmly. “For your sake and mine.”

“For my sake?” His tone was sharp now, his calm façade slipping. “You’re walking away from everything we’ve built, and you think that’s what I need?”

I folded my arms, refusing to let his words pierce through my resolve. “What have we built, Damien? A marriage where you avoid me at every turn? A partnership in name only? Tell me, what am I walking away from?”

His lips parted, but no words came out. For a moment, he seemed genuinely at a loss. Then, his face hardened. “Fine,” he said finally. “If that’s what you want. I won’t stop you. But you still slept your things, so there's a chan..”

“I'm heading to pick them right now,” I cut him short.

“You serious?”

I nodded, biting back the tears threatening to spill. I turned and stepped into the street, flagging down a passing cab.

“Aren’t you going to come back in my car?” Damien called after me. His voice was sharp.

I didn’t answer. I slid into the backseat and gave the driver directions to my house, where my suitcase waited.

The ride was quiet except for the hum of the engine. I couldn’t bring myself to look back, but a part of me could tell he was following us behind. My thoughts raced as I stared out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white.

When I got home, I moved quickly. I packed my clothes with purpose, not allowing myself time to linger on memories that clung to every corner of the house. By the time I zipped up the last bag, my resolve was steel.

I was turning off the lights when I heard the knock. My heart sank, already knowing who it was.

Damien stood on the doorstep, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie askew, as if he’d left in a hurry. A bottle of wine dangled from his hand, glinting in the soft glow of the porch light.

“I'm almost leaving” I blurted, my voice sharp.

“You could spend the night, you know,”

“And do what? Why?”

“We’re still married,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. His tone was almost playful, but the tension in his posture betrayed him. “I thought we could have a drink. Like old times.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “Old times? Damien, there are no old times worth revisiting.”

He stepped closer, the smell of expensive cologne mingling with the faint aroma of wine. “I’m serious, Lilia. You’re always saying I’m distant. Tonight, I’m here. I’m trying.” His hand reached out to brush my arm.

I pulled away sharply, anger flaring in my chest. “Trying? Now? After years of being ignored? After you made me feel like I didn’t exist in this house?”

Damien’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move back. “I never ignored you. I’ve been under pressure, trying to build something for us. For you.”

“No, Damien.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “You built something for yourself and left me in the rubble.”

“Hold on, Lilia,” he held my hands, almost hurting me.

“Let me go, now or…”

“Or you'll do what?”

His face fell, the weight of my words hitting him squarely. For the first time, he looked vulnerable, almost lost.

But I couldn’t afford to care anymore. I stepped back, clutching my suitcase. “This is goodbye, Damien.”

And before he could say another word, I closed the door between us.