The Price Of Loving Mr Damien

“Where the hell have you been?” Damien’s voice sliced through the quiet house the moment Arielle shut the door.

Without a word, she slipped off her shoes and walked past him, her expression unreadable.

“Arielle,” Damien said sharply, stepping in front of her. His jaw was clenched, his tie loosened, the perfect husband mask slightly cracked. “I asked you a question. You have been gone for days. Where were you?”

She brushed past him again, her movements slow but deliberate, like someone fighting to stay calm.

“I needed some air,” she said finally, her tone flat.

Damien scoffed. “For 3 days?”

Arielle ignored him and headed into the kitchen. The soft hum of the espresso machine filled the tense air. She busied herself with pouring coffee: one spoon of sugar, a dash of milk, anything to keep her hands from shaking.

“What has gotten into you, Arielle?” he pressed, his voice rising. “You’re acting strange. If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug.

Tell you?

She almost laughed.

Damien moved closer. “I’ve been worried sick,” he said, his tone softening. “You didn’t answer your phone. You could’ve at least –”

She threw her mug. The mug hit the wall beside him, shattering into pieces. Coffee splattered across the white tiles, dripping down like dark stains on everything between them.

Damien froze, his eyes widening for a brief second before his expression hardened. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped.

Arielle stood there, chest rising and falling, her eyes glistening but cold. “You’re asking me that?” she whispered, almost to herself. “You.”

Damien ran a hand through his hair, taking a slow breath. “You disappear for days, come home acting crazy, and now you’re throwing things at me? You need to calm down, Darling.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” she hissed.

He tried to get closer.

“Stop right there! I promise you the next thing I throw won't miss.”

He stopped, palms raised as if pleading.

“Arielle, don’t,” he said. The practiced calm in his voice sounded small. “Please, come on. We can talk about this.”

“Talk?” Her laugh was a raw sound that scraped the air. “You're right. I'm sorry. Let's talk, Damien.”

She leaned against the counter, arms folded, her eyes fixed on him like a blade testing where to cut

“How are your kids, Damien?”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint drip of coffee sliding down the wall.

Damien blinked, his composure faltering. “What… what did you just say?”

Arielle’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “You heard me. How are your kids, Damien? You’re full of surprises. A liar and deaf ?. That’s impressive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you,” she said, her voice breaking. “At the café. You looked like one big happy family… the family you refused to have with me.”

“It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” She gave a small, bitter laugh. “Tell me, are they twins?”

He hesitated. “Well, no.”

“So you made the same mistake twice?”

“I–”

“It’s fine,” she cut in, her tone eerily calm. “I hope you all live happily ever after. My lawyer is already working on the di –”

She stopped suddenly. A sharp pain tore through her stomach.

The world tilted.

“Arielle?” Damien’s voice sounded distant.

She tried to breathe, clutching her abdomen, but the pain was too much. The edges of her vision darkened as her knees buckled.

“Arielle!” Damien lunged forward just in time, catching her before she hit the floor. Her head fell limp against his chest as panic flashed across his face.

*****

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.

Damien paced the empty corridor, fingers tugging through his hair. Every minute that passed felt like an hour. Every nurse that walked by without stopping made his chest tighten.

When the doctor finally emerged, Damien straightened so fast his head spun.

“Mr. Blackwood?”

“Yes. How is she?”

“She’s out of danger for now,” the doctor said. “But why is she under so much stress? It's not good for ….”

“Doctor!” The nurse on duty screamed.

"The nurse’s scream cut through the corridor like a blade.

Damien’s heart dropped. He didn’t think — he just ran.

Through the half-open door, he saw chaos. The monitor beside Arielle’s bed was beeping wildly. The nurse fumbled for a syringe while another shouted, “Her heart rate’s dropping!”

Damien’s chest constricted. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“Sir, please wait outside!” a doctor barked, pushing past him.

He froze by the doorway, rooted to the spot as the scene blurred before him, nurses moving fast, wires tangling, someone pressing an oxygen mask over Arielle’s face.

“Arielle!” he called out, voice cracking. But she didn’t move.

******

Damien sat slumped in the visitor’s chair, his jacket draped over his arm, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. The faint sound of machines filled the silence — steady, rhythmic, mocking.

Arielle was awake.

She just didn’t open her eyes.

She could hear him shifting, hear his tired sighs, and every now and then, hear him mumble something under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, voice hoarse. “I should’ve just let you have the damn kids.”

It's not about the kids, she thought bitterly.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he continued, dragging a hand through his hair.

“We can fix this,” he murmured, leaning forward. “I’ll make things right. You and me.”

She was about to open her eyes when she heard his phone ring.

Damien sighed, rubbing his temple. “Yeah?”

“Finally,” came a silken, mocking voice. Claire. “Was starting to think you collapsed right beside her.”

Damien’s body tensed. “Claire, not now.”

“Not now?” she echoed with a sharp laugh. “Oh, come on, Damien. Don’t tell me you’re actually worried. She’s been milking that poor-me act for years. I’m surprised it took this long for her to land in a hospital bed.”

Arielle’s heart stopped cold.

“Claire,” he hissed, glancing toward her still form.

“What? She can’t hear me, can she?” Claire purred. “Or maybe she can. Wouldn’t that be poetic?”

He gritted his teeth. “You’re out of line.”

“No, you’re out of line,” she snapped suddenly, her voice turning sharp and venomous. “You left me alone with your children to go babysit. Do you have any idea how pathetic that looks? You keep saying you’re done with her, but here you are holding her hand while she pretends to die.”

“I’m not—she collapsed, Claire! She could’ve—”

“Oh, please,” she cut in, voice dripping with scorn. “People like her never die when they should.”

He closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. “Claire…”

“I’ll give you thirty minutes to get back here,” she said, voice turning icy. “If not, let’s just say I don’t know what might happen.”

The line went dead.

For a long moment, Damien stood frozen. The air in the room turned heavy.

“I’ll be back, Arielle,” he whispered, then dashed out.

A tear slipped from her eye. She wiped it away slowly.

“To think I started to pity him,” she muttered, ripping out the IV line.

“I’m done.”