Chapter sixty two

Frustration gnawed at me as I paced the familiar confines of the library. Every shelf, every ornately carved table, whispered memories of stolen glances, and a kiss that had ignited a fire within me. But the warmth of that memory was quickly extinguished by a voice of reason in my head.

"I cannot lose myself in these feelings," I muttered aloud, the words echoing in the vast silence of the room.

The truth was, I already had. The line between polite interactions and suppressed affection for Damian had blurred beyond recognition. My heart thumped a traitorous rhythm whenever our eyes met, and the air crackled with unspoken desires whenever we were near.

Love. The word hung heavy in the air, unspoken yet undeniable. Did I love Damian? The answer, terrifyingly clear, was yes. But love, it seemed, was a luxury I couldn't afford.