Whispers of a forgetten love

Damian had never been the type to openly show affection, but with Evelyn, he didn't even try to hide it.

At work, he made sure she had everything she needed. He always brought her coffee before she could even ask, had her favorite snacks stocked in the office, and whenever she was overwhelmed with tasks, he somehow lightened her workload without saying a word.

But more than that, his touches lingered longer than necessary.

A brush of fingers when handing her a document.

A hand on the small of her back when guiding her somewhere.

A protective grip on her wrist whenever she walked too far from him.

People noticed.

And the rumors started.

—

One afternoon, Damian had called Evelyn into his office for what she thought was work.

But the moment she stepped inside, she felt the shift in the air.

He wasn't sitting at his desk. Instead, he stood near the window, staring out with a thoughtful expression.

"You called for me?" she asked, cautiously stepping closer.

He turned to face her, his dark eyes locked onto hers. "Come here."

Her brows furrowed, but she obeyed, stopping just a few steps away. "Is there something you need?"

Damian reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward—too fast for her to react.

Before she knew it, she was sitting on his lap.

Her heart nearly stopped. "D-Damian—"

He silenced her by tilting her chin up, his thumb grazing her lips.

"You keep avoiding me," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Why?"

"I—" She struggled to find an answer, but her mind was blank.

His grip tightened around her waist, holding her in place. "Tell me you don't feel this."

Evelyn swallowed hard. The way he looked at her, the intensity in his gaze—it was impossible to deny.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, his lips crashed against hers.

A shiver ran down her spine as his warmth consumed her. He kissed her slowly at first, testing, teasing, but when she didn't push him away, he deepened it—his hands tightening around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

It wasn't just a kiss.

It was a claim.

And she was completely undone.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, Damian smirked. "Still want to pretend there's nothing between us?"

Evelyn, dazed, scrambled off his lap. "This was a mistake," she muttered, flustered beyond words.

Damian chuckled, clearly entertained by her reaction. "If that's what you want to call it."

But she could still feel the heat of his lips on hers.

And she knew—this was far from over.

—

Later that day, Evelyn went to grab coffee, only to overhear the office gossip.

"You think they're dating?" one employee whispered.

"I don't know," another replied. "I mean, he treats her differently, but neither of them has confirmed anything."

"I saw them in the office together once. The tension was insane."

"I don't believe it. Mr. Damian would never date an employee."

Evelyn's grip tightened around the cup.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. She should've known people would start suspecting something.

That night, when she and Damian were alone in the office, she brought it up.

"People are talking," she said.

He barely looked up from his work. "Let them."

She scowled. "I don't want them suspecting anything. Not yet."

At that, he leaned back in his chair, arching a brow. "So you admit there's something to suspect?"

She flushed. "That's not the point."

Amusement flickered in his eyes, but he didn't argue.

"Fine," he said after a pause. "We'll keep it between us. For now."

But the way he looked at her told her it wouldn't be easy.

Not when the tension between them was this unbearable.

Damian had never been this certain about anything in his life—he wanted Evelyn by his side forever.

One evening, as they sat in his car after work, he turned to her, his expression serious.

"I want to introduce you to my parents," he said, watching for her reaction.

Evelyn froze. She hadn't expected him to bring this up so soon.

She swallowed hard. "Damian, I—"

He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. "I want them to know the woman I love."

The words sent a warmth through her chest, but at the same time, fear gripped her.

The past.

The stalker.

It wasn't over yet.

She looked away. "I can't."

Damian's grip on her hand tightened. "Why?"

She took a deep breath. "Because he's still out there."

His jaw clenched.

"I don't want history to repeat itself," she continued, voice trembling. "In our past lives, I died because of him. And you…" She hesitated. "You took your own life after losing me."

Damian's entire body tensed at the reminder. He remembered it all—the pain, the grief, the unbearable emptiness after losing her.

Evelyn turned back to him, eyes filled with determination. "I won't let that happen again. We can't let our guard down until he's caught or dead."

Damian exhaled slowly. He didn't like it, but he understood.

He cupped her face gently. "Alright. We'll handle this first. Then, I'll take you to meet my parents."

She nodded, relief washing over her.

—

Days later, the stalker texted Evelyn again.

Evelyn, I love you. I need to see you.

She stared at the message, her heart pounding.

Damian, standing beside her, read the text over her shoulder. His hands curled into fists. "That bastard."

Evelyn took a shaky breath. "He wants to see me."

Damian met her gaze, his own filled with dark resolve. "Then we'll give him what he wants."

They weren't going to wait for him to strike again.

This time, they would set the trap.

Evelyn took a deep breath, adjusting the tiny recorder clipped inside her shirt. She had to do this. It was the only way to get the stalker to expose himself.

Three trusted police officers stood nearby, disguised as ordinary pedestrians. Damian was there too, hiding in the shadows, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage.

Her phone buzzed.

I'm here.

She turned and saw him—a tall, dark-haired man with an unsettling smile, standing by his car.

Forcing herself to appear nervous, she walked toward him.

"You came," he said, his voice eerily soft.

Evelyn nodded. "I— I wanted to talk."

He smiled wider. "Get in."

Swallowing her fear, she slid into the passenger seat. The moment the door shut, he locked it and sped off.

Behind them, Damian and the officers quietly followed.

—

The drive felt endless, but finally, they arrived at an old, secluded house. Evelyn's heart pounded as he led her inside, shutting the door behind them.

Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrists and tied them to a chair.

She widened her eyes, feigning shock. "W-Why are you doing this?"

He knelt in front of her, brushing her cheek. "Because I love you, Evelyn. I've always loved you."

She turned her face away, disgusted.

His expression darkened. "You don't believe me?"

Before she could respond, he leaned in, trying to kiss her.

She clenched her lips shut, turning her head to the side. His grip tightened.

"You'll love me too," he whispered, his hand trailing down her thigh.

"Stop," she said firmly, her voice shaking—not from fear, but from anger.

Outside, Damian gritted his teeth, fists clenching. He had promised to wait. But seeing that bastard touch her—

That was it.

With a growl, Damian burst in, his fist connecting with the stalker's skull in a brutal strike. The man stumbled back, dazed.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Damian roared.

The stalker's daze lasted only a second before he bolted. The police rushed in, chasing after him, but he was fast. Even injured, he managed to slip into the woods behind the house and disappear.

Damian cursed under his breath before quickly untying Evelyn. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her body shaking. "I knew I was being followed, but… he's more dangerous than I thought."

Damian held her close. "We'll catch him, Evelyn. I swear we will."

But deep inside, a dark, nagging fear lingered.

The stalker had escaped.

And now, he knew they were hunting him.

Evelyn yanked her wrist free from Damian's grip, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You ruined everything," she hissed, stepping back.

Damian's expression hardened. "Excuse me?"

"Our plan was working! He trusted me enough to take me to his place. The police were following—we could've caught him! But no, you had to jump in like some reckless hero!"

Damian's jaw clenched. "I couldn't just stand there and watch him touch you."

Evelyn scoffed. "That's the problem, Damian. You're too possessive. You act before thinking, and now he's gone!"

Damian took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check, but her words cut deep. "So, what? You wanted me to watch him kiss you? Touch you?" His voice was dangerously low.

"I wanted you to trust me!" Evelyn shot back.

"You think I don't?!" Damian ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I love you, damn it! That's why I couldn't just stand there and do nothing!"

Evelyn let out a bitter laugh. "Love? This isn't love, Damian. This is control. You can't even control yourself! How can I marry someone like you? We should just break up."

Silence.

A storm brewed in Damian's eyes.

"Fine," he said coldly. "Let's break up."

Evelyn flinched slightly, but she held her ground.

Damian's hands clenched into fists. "You are always the problem, Evelyn. I got stabbed because of you. I nearly died because of you. And now you're saying I'm too much? That I should've let that bastard touch you?" His voice cracked with anger. "Maybe we're not meant for each other."

Evelyn's heart twisted painfully. But instead of backing down, she turned away.

"Maybe we aren't," she whispered.

The weight of their words settled between them like a chasm neither knew how to cross.

—

The following days were torture.

At work, they barely spoke. Evelyn sat at her desk, typing away, while Damian buried himself in meetings and paperwork.

No stolen glances. No lingering touches.

Just silence.

To everyone else, they were just a boss and his secretary again. But behind closed doors, both of them were breaking apart.

Evelyn returned to the office after her week-long break, looking pale and thinner than before. She walked straight to her desk, avoiding Damian's gaze as she set down her bag and turned on her computer.

Damian watched her from his desk, his fingers tightening around his pen. He had tried not to think about her while she was gone, convincing himself that it wasn't his business anymore. But the moment she walked in looking like a ghost of herself, all those walls he built came crashing down.

"What happened to you?" His voice was sharp, but beneath it was something softer—concern.

Evelyn barely spared him a glance. "Nothing."

"You look like hell," he pressed. "You took a week off and came back like this? Are you sick?"

She exhaled, irritated. "None of your business, Damian. We broke up."

His jaw clenched. "I'm asking as your boss."

Evelyn stared at him for a long moment before sighing in defeat. "I was a bit sick… and depressed," she admitted quietly.

Damian frowned. "Depressed? Why?"

She hesitated before saying, "My mother died."

His breath hitched. "What?"

"It happened while I was there," she said, her voice steady but empty. "I don't want to talk about it. A boss shouldn't know more than this. Sorry."

Damian stared at her, his throat tightening. He wanted to reach out, to say something, but she had already turned back to her work, shutting him out completely.

The next few days were torture.

Damian watched her move through the office like a shadow of herself—silent, distant, and completely uninterested in him. It drove him insane. He had tried to act indifferent before, but now he was tired of the silence.

He wanted her back.

But Evelyn? She was determined to keep things strictly professional, no matter how much it hurt them both.