RUNNING AWAY FROM MY BETROTHED

CHAPTER 133. INDECIPHERABLE REACTION

The sense of the mess I made and how wild I drove him come crumbling in me like waves. That must have been the longest annoying day he had ever had.

"Sorry," I mumble, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush of remorse.

"For what?" Damian queries, his brow furrowing in confusion.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the confession that's been weighing on my for far too long. "I just realized I never apologized for that mess I made in house that day," I admit, my voice tinged with regret. "And for bearing with my that time. I honestly thought you would kick my ass out of your house that night."

"I am not a heartless beast,” he says. “I saw through your eyes that you were going something. And besides, there was this weird side of me that wanted to keep in my house for a while longer."

I pause for a moment, reflecting on the journey that has brought us to this point. "And won," I assert, a hint of pride coloring my voice.

"And here we are. I'm glad it did. So, cheers?" Damian suggests raising his glass in a .

I mirror his gesture, lifting my own glass with a grin. "To us," I say, my heart with affection.

"To our fated encounter," Damian adds, his eyes sparkling with emotion.

"To our love," I interject, unable to contain the warmth that fills me at the thought of bond.

"And to our bright future together. A future filled with love and happiness," Damian , his gaze locked with mine.

With a soft clink of our glasses, we seal our toast and take a sip of the champagne, the crisp bubbles on our tongues as we relish in the moment.

"Talking of old times,” I break the embodying serene lull, “I owed you one for the bet of not touching alcohol for days. I still owe you," I admit, breaking comfortable silence that has settled between us.

"I thought you forgot," Damian says, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he another sip of his champagne.

"I never forget debts because I hate them. With you, it's different, though. Everything ," I confess, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

He smiles, licking the taste of champagne from his lips, leaving them so temptingly . "Mmh. Tell me more. How so?" He implores, his curiosity piqued by my words.

"You enchanted me in a way I can't explain." I gulp down my champagne all in one and toss the glass on the table. "For instance, I never saw you as a stranger, even you literally were. I weirdly felt and still feel like I have known you my entire . It's..." I stop my ranting to scan his face.

As Damian's distant gaze lingers on the horizon, I can't help but wonder if my words fallen on deaf ears. Was I merely talking to myself, lost in the echo of my own ? What did I say wrong that made him so distant?

With a wave of my hand and a snap of my fingers, I attempt to draw his attention to the present moment, my concern mounting as I wait for his response.

"What is wrong?" I finally query, my voice laced with a hint of worry as I search his for any sign of distress. “Did I say something wrong?” I inquire with a frown on face.

He shakes his head, snapping back to reality from wherever he was lost. "No, love. I sorry. It's nothing," he replies, his voice distant as he gulps down the remainder of wine in one go.

Instinctively, I reach out to stop him from reaching for the bottle, my fingers curling his hand in a silent plea. "I don't want you getting drunk, "Not tonight,

Damian,” I plead.

It is not like he has ever misbehaved when drunk, but I want us to savor this moments our full right senses. "You and I know this thing can't get me drunk," Damian , his voice tinged with a hint of stubbornness.

And that I know very well. I mean, I am a testament to how much he can drink when decides to. This light thing is just like juice to him. But still, no taking chances . "Even so. I don't want to take a risk. I want to remember this night as the special one since we met," I assert, my tone firm as I hold my ground.

He nods, encircling my waist and pulling me closer to him. I can't help but feel the bulge beneath me, our bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. Our are the only barriers between us, the thin fabrics doing little to shield us the heat of our shared desire. I push away the dirty thoughts that threaten to my mind, focusing instead on the mystery of his sudden change in demeanor.

I scan his eyes for a minute, and yet again, understanding them seems like a distant . There are times that, no matter how long and deep I delve into them, I cannot decipher what they portray. This look. I have never understood it. Is it sadness pain, or what is it? "Your face changed when I explained how you make me feel. Is a bad feeling?" I ask, locking eyes with him in search of answers. But I am almost up my endeavors to crack this look. Unless he tells me, I don’t think I will ever it.

He wiggles his head to differ. "No, Ellie. I love the fact that you feel such an intense with me. Believe me, I do," he sweetly and genuinely reassures me, his soft with sincerity.

"So what is the problem then? You remembered something awful that I did or said to ?" I press, my curiosity getting the better of me. There ought to be something that this look in his eyes. It must be something deep.