Chapter 287 I hated how much I missed him already

Chapter 287: Chapter 287 I hated how much I missed him already

Aria’s POV

I didn’t sleep well. When morning came, I dragged myself out of bed even though I was supposed to take the day off.

There were a few project meetings scheduled, and I figured I might as well sit in. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

But by the time the last meeting wrapped up and the day had slipped away, I realized I hadn’t absorbed a single word.

Jennifer found me in my office later, holding a stack of reports.

"Aria, I thought you were taking a few days off? What are you doing here?"

"I had some things to finish up," I said absently, flipping through the documents she’d handed me.

The data looked foreign. Like I’d never seen any of it before.

Jennifer’s brow furrowed as she studied me more closely. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

I touched my face reflexively. The dark circles under my eyes were probably impossible to miss.

Her gaze dropped to my hand—the one wrapped in thick white gauze.

"What happened?" she asked, alarmed.

"I cut myself cooking last night. It’s fine."

"Cooking?" Jennifer looked horrified. "Aria, you don’t need to cook. I mean—doesn’t Alpha Damian have a whole staff for that? You shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing."

She said it with such earnestness, like the idea of me handling a kitchen knife was a personal offense.

In her mind, I was supposed to be above that. Even if it was for Damian.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "You’re right."

I forced a smile, but it felt brittle on my lips.

"Why don’t you head home and rest?" Jennifer suggested gently. "I can pull the key points from today’s meetings and send them to you whenever you need them."

"Thanks, Jennifer. I’ll leave in a bit."

Of course I wanted to go home. But Damian wasn’t there. The person I wanted to be with had already left. Going back to an empty apartment felt like torture.

At least here, at the office, I could pretend I had something to focus on.

Jennifer seemed to sense I needed space. She gave me one last worried look, reminded me to take care of myself, and slipped out.

The office went quiet.

I slumped forward onto my desk, resting my head on my arms.

My phone sat dark and silent beside me. No messages. No calls.

Was he resting right now? Was he okay?

Elena and Andrew were probably taking care of him. Grace too. They’d make sure he was comfortable.

I should’ve been angry. I *wanted* to be angry.

But what I felt instead was worry. A deep, gnawing unease that wouldn’t leave me alone.

I even found myself regretting how I’d reacted last night. Maybe I should’ve said something different. Maybe I should’ve pushed harder, refused to let him shut me out.

But then again—

He was the one who’d said those things. Cold. Final. Like he’d already made up his mind.

*I’m giving you a chance to leave.*

The memory of his voice—low, detached, like he was reading from a script—made my chest ache all over again.

I’d told him how I felt. So many times. I’d laid my heart bare in front of him, over and over, and he *knew* that.

So why did his first instinct, the moment things got hard, default to *pushing me away*?

He was the one who’d talked about trust. About building something real together. And the second something went wrong, he didn’t even ask what I was thinking. He just assumed I’d want out.

And worse—he didn’t even fight for me.

If I really wanted to leave, shouldn’t he have at least *tried* to make me stay?

The thought made my throat tighten.

I wasn’t just angry at him.

I was angry at myself too.

Because part of me—some small, stupid part—wanted to call him right now. Wanted to hear his voice, even if it was still cold. Even if he was still pushing me away.

I hated how much I missed him already.

It had only been one night.

---

I stayed at the office until the sky outside turned dark. By the time I finally dragged myself out of the building, the streetlights were already on.

The drive home felt longer than usual. Every red light, every turn, stretched out like the city itself was trying to keep me from facing the emptiness waiting for me.

When I finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence hit me like a wall.

The dining table was still a mess from last night. No one had cleaned it. Damian had told me to leave it for the staff, but I’d forgotten to let them know.

I stared at the half-eaten food, the plates still sitting where we’d left them, and felt something crack inside me.

This was supposed to be our home.

But right now, it just felt cold.

I set my bag down and walked slowly to the bedroom. The bed was still unmade. Damian’s side looked untouched, like he hadn’t even tried to lie down before he left.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled my phone out again.

Still nothing.

My fingers hovered over his name in my contacts. I could call him. I could text him. I could demand to know where he really was, because I wasn’t stupid—I knew Rick had lied.

But what would I even say?

*Come back?*

*Don’t shut me out?*

*I’m not Vanessa. I’m not going to leave you just because things got hard.*

My thumb brushed over the screen, but I didn’t press call.

Because part of me was still hurt. Still angry.

He’d looked me in the eye and told me I could walk away.

Like I was just another person in a long line of people who’d eventually abandon him.

Like everything we’d built together didn’t matter.

I set the phone down and pressed my bandaged hand against my chest, trying to ease the ache there.

It didn’t work.