Chapter 334: One Last Night Before Everything Changes

"So, Joey once apologized to a chair after bumping into it," Maya told me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

"It was a really sturdy chair, and I thought it deserved an apology." Joey defended.

That got me giggling so hard I had to sit down. It somehow made our goodbye feel warmer and easier than I would’ve thought.

Later that afternoon, Connor dropped by with coffee and a little gift bag filled with snacks he said I’d need for the move since, according to him, Damien’s idea of travel food was likely something fancy yet balanced.

"I figured you could use something that actually tastes good," he said, handing me the bag.

I peeked inside. "You got me a whole stash of chocolate."

"And a bunch of chip packets."

"Connor, just so you know, if I ever have to choose between you and Damien, this might just tip the scales in your favor a little."

From the doorway, Damien piped up, "I’m right here, you know!"

Connor just smiled at him. "I know."

It was nice seeing that there was no tension or awkwardness between them. I was genuinely thankful for that. Connor had been a solid friend when I really needed one, and I hoped he’d always be around, even while everything else was changing.

After Connor left, Damien took the bag from me and went through its contents.

"Chocolate, chips, biscuits, and enough sweets for a whole classroom," he commented.

"These are absolutely essential," I argued.

"I understand."

"You wouldn’t get it. You’re rich."

He kissed my cheek and wrapped his arm around my waist, helping me carry the snacks to the kitchen.

I quickly stashed half of them away from him because there was no way I was letting my boyfriend mess with my emergency chocolate stash.

I had standards, after all.

The hardest moment of leaving hit me when the house fell silent.

With most of our stuff packed away and the final touches nearly finished, I found myself wandering around the rooms, aimlessly stopping at places I’d passed a million times without a second thought.

The kitchen caught my attention first. I stood by the counter where I had spent countless evenings cooking for Dad after his long shifts at Joy’s Café, sometimes too wiped out to prepare anything fancy.

He would sit nearby, filling the silence with stories about something interesting he’d read. There had been nights I stretched a tight budget to its limits, quietly weighing the cost of his treatment against my upcoming paycheck, and nights I forced smiles through dinner to hide how scared I felt.

The kitchen had seen my exhaustion more than anything else but also our laughter and our terrible cooking experiments, like when Dad insisted that garlic could improve anything.

I traced the edge of the counter, recalling the times I stood there wondering if I was doing enough, if I could keep it all together, and if my life would ever be anything beyond just getting by until the next bill was due.

Then I wandered into the living room, where Dad had spent many evenings with his feet up, watching TV while I pretended to study, secretly listening to his commentary on every character that popped up on screen.

Finally, I stopped outside my bedroom. The space looked odd without all my usual clutter, the shelves now half-empty, and the walls bare where I had taken down my few decorations.

I stood by my old desk near the window, where the afternoon sunlight spilled in, creating a golden stripe across the floor.

It brought back memories of sleepless nights spent working on assignments while worrying about Dad, finances, and the huge uncertainty hanging over my future.

This house had been my anchor when I felt like I might fall apart. It was a place I could return to after Damien left, a space to build a life when it seemed impossible, and a refuge on days I was too exhausted to see a future I wanted to look forward to.

I loved this house, not because it was flawless, but because it was ours. Leaving meant accepting that those years were finally behind me.

I paused by the window for a bit, trying to reconcile the mix of gratitude and sadness swelling in my chest until I heard footsteps behind me. Damien didn’t say anything at first. He stood next to me, our shoulders brushing together, and we just gazed out at the familiar street outside.

Eventually, I admitted softly, "I used to sit here when I missed you. Especially at night, when Dad was asleep and I had nothing to distract me. I’d sit by the window, wondering what you were up to, if you were happy, and if I ever crossed your mind."

Damien took my hand. "I thought about you every single day."

"I know that now."

"I’m sorry you had to spend so much time wondering."

Looking at him, the man I had loved through years of silence and resentment, I felt that familiar ache for all those lost years fade into something softer.

"I don’t want to forget what happened," I told him. "Not because I want to keep punishing you, but those years were part of my life, and I think I need to remember them without letting them dictate what comes next."

Damien nodded, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.

There wasn’t a grand speech or any promise that the future would be a breeze. Instead, he just stood by my side, holding my hand, and somehow, that was enough.

I leaned against him, taking one last look around the room that had seen so much of my life before turning away to follow him downstairs.

On our last night, the house felt almost alien.

Half-packed boxes leaned against the walls, the kitchen cupboards were mostly empty, and the living room seemed vast without the little things that typically made it feel cozy. Dad went to bed early, insisting he could manage without us hovering over him.

Still, he reminded Damien three times that he expected regular updates once we got to the city. I was sure he’d be perfectly fine on the island, especially if he could charm the staff into sharing his excitement for marine biology, but knowing that didn’t make leaving him any easier.

Damien found me sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the last few things I had yet to pack.

"You’re thinking too loudly," he said, closing the door behind him.

I looked over at him. "I’m trying to decide if I should bring the lamp."

"The lamp?"

"It’s a really good lamp."

He glanced from the perfectly ordinary bedside lamp to me, then back at it. "Oliver, we have several lamps in the city."

"But this one has been with me for years."

"Do you want to take the entire house with you?"

I thought about it. "Is that an option?"

"Not unless you plan to dismantle it yourself."

"You’re a freaking billionaire. Aren’t you supposed to be good at fixing problems?"

Damien chuckled as he crossed the room, took the lamp from my hands, and placed it in the box beside the bed. "We’ll bring the lamp, Sunshine."

I smiled, feeling a bit silly yet strangely relieved, and let him pull me into his arms when he sat beside me.

For a bit, we talked about the move, the things we wanted to do once we arrived, and all those little details that had seemed so far away before.

I needed to sort out my transition at work, navigate the city again, and adjust to sharing a home with Damien without pretending we were just roommates who kissed when no one was watching.

Damien, on his part, was determined to make sure I understood I’d have my own space, routines, and the freedom to build a life that was just as much mine as it was ours.

"We’ll figure it out together," he promised when I admitted I was excited but also super nervous about all the changes coming my way.

I looked up at him, studying those familiar features and the sincere look in his eyes. "You’re really not going to disappear on me again, are you?"

His expression softened as he brushed a strand of hair from my forehead and pressed a gentle kiss there. "No, angel. And if you ever feel scared, just tell me. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine to protect me from your feelings."

I swallowed hard, resting my forehead against his. "That’s inconvenient. Pretending I’m fine is one of my best skills."

Then I kissed him, slowly at first, letting the warmth of his lips and the familiar comfort of his embrace remind me he was here, that I could reach for him without worrying about whether he’d still be around when morning came.

He kissed me back with the same gentle tenderness, his hand cradling my cheek while our conversation faded into soft laughter and quiet affection.

We stayed curled up together on the bed for a long while as the house settled around us, trading gentle kisses and teasing comments whenever one of us remembered something else we needed to pack.

Eventually, Damien pulled me against his chest, kissing the top of my head.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

I thought about the city, the unknown routines, the life we were about to start, and all those years I spent believing I’d never have this opportunity again. Then I thought of the man holding me, the dad sleeping peacefully down the hall, and the future waiting just beyond the front door.

"No," I admitted, grinning as Damien chuckled softly against my hair. "But I’m going anyway."

He tightened his hold around me, and I nestled against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart as my nerves started to settle.

The room was half-empty, boxes packed, and by morning, the place that had been my home for so many years would be just a memory I took with me, rather than a space I returned to nightly.

Taking one last look at the half-empty room, I realized something strange: I wasn’t scared about leaving. I was ready.