The rain had already started by the time Damien pulled into the underground parking lot of his apartment building. Fat droplets pattered against the windshield like a metronome for his thoughts, steady, persistent, impossible to ignore.
He sat there for a while, hands still gripping the steering wheel. The engine hummed beneath him, its idle purr filling the silence. He could feel the warmth of the car's interior, a contrast to the sudden chill he'd felt earlier in the hospital hallway. Not from the weather but from her.
Alexandra Ling.
He let out a breath, short and humorless. Of all the people to walk into his life again, it had to be her. Not as a memory, not in passing, not even as a patient but as a colleague. A doctor, no less. His mentee.
Well he would rather not have her lifeless body on his operating table anyways.
A soft laugh escaped him, dry and almost bitter. Fate had always had a cruel sense of humor.
He killed the engine and stepped out into the rain.
By the time he reached the elevator, his hair was damp and his shoulders soaked through. The stainless steel doors reflected a tired man with shadows under his eyes and lines on his face that hadn't been there ten years ago. But his gaze. His gaze was the same. Quiet. Searching for something that slipped through his grasp. More like someone.
The elevator dinged open, and Damien stepped into the silence of his penthouse apartment. It was sparsely furnished. Modern and cold, a stereotypical setting for someone of his character. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city skyline, lights flickering like distant stars. He didn't bother turning on the lights. He dropped his bag by the door and made his way to the kitchen by muscle memory alone.
One glass of water. Two painkillers. He wasn't even sick. It was just something to do. Something normal.
He leaned back against the kitchen counter, letting the cool marble ground him.
"Welcome back to my life, Alexandra."
The words had slipped out before he could stop them.
He hadn't meant to say that to her. He'd meant to play it cool, act indifferent. But then she'd walked in with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, her voice catching as she said his name, and it had all gone to hell.
She hadn't changed much.
No, that was a lie. She had.
She stood taller now. There was confidence in the way she moved, in the way she spoke. Not arrogance. Alexandra had never been arrogant. But her eyes… those still looked at the world like it owed her answers.
And when they looked at him, they still made him feel like the boy who'd once hid behind a trashcan dressed in a suit, cosplaying an adult, as he secretly watched her cry at the street dumpling vendor.
Damien crossed the living room and opened a cabinet by the window. Tucked behind medical journals and old textbooks was a wooden box. Small, aged, the hinges slightly rusted. He hesitated, then took it out and set it on the coffee table.
He hadn't opened this box in years.
Inside were letters. Old, some yellowing. The handwriting on the envelopes had smudged with time, but he still knew them by heart.
He picked one at random and unfolded it slowly.
"Damien, you probably won't read this. Maybe I won't even send it. But I needed to write it. Needed to tell someone that you smiled at me today, and it made my whole week better."
He exhaled shakily. God. She'd written these in high school. And he'd read them all—every last one. Even the ones Aria had mocked, had thrown on the floor like they were nothing.
He remembered that day. The hallway. The laughter. Alexandra standing frozen, her cheeks pale, her hands trembling.
And he'd done nothing.
He ran a hand through his hair, guilt twisting low in his gut.
Back then, he'd thought he was protecting her. He thought that keeping his distance, staying silent, would spare her from becoming collateral in the Reid family's twisted games.
But all it had done was hurt her.
And now she was back. In his hospital. Assigned to him. After all this time, the universe had thrown her right back into his path like some kind of cruel joke. Or maybe a test.
He didn't know what scared him more.
That she might still hate him…
Or that she might not.
Damien placed the letter back into the box, closing the lid gently. He didn't lock it this time.
He crossed to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass like tears the sky couldn't hold back. Somewhere out there, in the sprawl of the city, Alexandra was probably curled up in bed with a mug of tea and a thousand questions in her head.
She always did think too much.
He smiled to himself. A real one, soft at the edges.
"I'm sorry, Alexandra," he murmured to the empty room. "I should've said it back then. I should've protected you. But I'll do better this time."
The apartment echoed with the promise.
Tomorrow, he'd go back to work. He'd see her again. They'd talk, maybe even argue. She'd glare at him, call him arrogant, challenge his every decision. She always did that, even in school.
And maybe—just maybe—that was how they'd start over.
He turned away from the window and headed for the bedroom. The rain had stopped. The city shimmered beneath the clearing clouds, and for the first time in a long while, Damien felt like something had shifted.
The past hadn't disappeared.
But maybe… it wasn't too late to rewrite it.