water everywhere

Serena didn't know what was happening to her. It felt as though she was watching a scene unfold, but she wasn't a part of it—just an observer, a silent witness to something both familiar and foreign.

A man stood before her, his presence commanding, his voice rich and deep as he spoke. Across from him, a woman hung onto his every word, her eyes filled with admiration, devotion. Serena couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could feel the weight of the moment.

Then, just as the man was about to turn—his face coming into view—everything shifted. A force pulled her away, sucking her from the scene, yanking her back into reality.

Her eyes fluttered open. The golden morning sun spilled into the room, casting a warm glow over everything. But her head pounded, a dull ache spreading through her skull. She groaned, pressing her fingers against her temple. What…happened?

She tried to sit up, but before she could, a firm hand steadied her. The touch was familiar—cool, controlled. Damian.

She blinked, and there he was, sitting beside her on the bed, his expression unreadable, his piercing gaze locked onto hers.

"You finally woke up," he muttered. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

Serena swallowed. Her throat was dry, her body still heavy with exhaustion. "Water," she rasped.

Damian didn't hesitate. He grabbed the glass from the nightstand and pressed it into her hands. She took small sips, the cool liquid easing the tightness in her throat.

Damian leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp, observant. "What the hell happened to you last night?"

Serena paused mid-sip. Last night. Her brows furrowed as she tried to piece it together—the intruder, the fight, the burning crow, and then… darkness.

Her fingers tightened around the glass. "I…" She hesitated. Should she tell him?

Damian's eyes darkened. "Don't lie to me, Serena. I walked in, and you were unconscious. The entire place was trashed." His jaw tensed. "What the hell is going on?"

Serena met his gaze, her heartbeat quickening. If only she knew the answer.

Before she could respond, Damian's eyes narrowed slightly. His hand moved, his fingers brushing against her arm.

Serena gasped. She hadn't even realized it, but her skin—normally warm—was damp, shimmering under the light as if tiny droplets of water clung to it. It wasn't sweat. It was something else.

Damian's fingers trailed down her forearm, his frown deepening. "Why is your skin wet?"

Serena stiffened. She quickly pulled her arm away and clenched her fists under the covers. "I don't know," she said too quickly.

Damian's gaze sharpened. He had spent enough time around people to know when they were lying. He leaned in slightly, his voice low. "You were in a dry room. There's no water anywhere. And yet, you're wet. Why?"

Serena's throat tightened.

Damian exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "First, you survive a spiked drink without a single effect in party . Then, I find you unconscious with a trashed room. And now, your skin is damp like you just walked out of the ocean." His gaze locked onto hers. "Tell me, Serena. What are you hiding?"

Serena's heart pounded against her ribs. She forced a small, amused smile. "You sound like you're accusing me of something."

Damian didn't smile back. "Maybe I am."

She held his gaze, willing herself to appear calm, but inside, she knew—this was the beginning. Damian was getting closer to the truth.

And she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it from him.

Before Damian could push further, a knock at the door interrupted them.

"Come in," he called, his voice still edged with suspicion as he kept his gaze locked on Serena.

The door opened, and Nicholas stepped inside, dressed in his usual sharp suit. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he looked between Damian and Serena.

"I checked the security footage," Nicholas said, handing Damian a tablet. "There's something… off about it."

Damian took the device and played the footage. His eyes narrowed as he watched. The intruder—dark figure, moving with an unnatural grace—was seen entering the room. But then… nothing. No footage of him leaving.

It was as if he had disappeared into thin air.

Damian's grip tightened on the tablet. "That's impossible," he muttered.

Nicholas crossed his arms. "And that's not all. Your penthouse was a mess, but there's no sign of forced entry. No traces of anyone except Serena."

Damian looked back at his wife, who remained silent, her fingers loosely curled around the water glass.

"Just me?" Serena finally spoke, her voice even.

Nicholas nodded. "There were also… puddles of water everywhere. But no leaks. No signs of where it came from."

Damian's eyes flickered toward the floor, as if picturing the scene again. "Water?" he repeated, his voice slow, calculating.

Nicholas nodded. "It's strange, isn't it? An intruder that vanished into thin air and unexplained water all over the room."

Damian turned his gaze back to Serena. She had gone unnaturally still, her expression blank—but Damian knew better. He had seen her smug, her playful, her furious. But this… this was different.

——

As Nicholas finished discussing the security footage and the strange circumstances surrounding the incident, he finally sighed. "Whatever happened here, it's not normal. But if you don't want me to dig further, I won't—for now."

Damian gave him a firm nod. "I'll handle it."

Nicholas studied him for a moment before glancing at Serena, whose expression remained unreadable. "Alright. But be careful, Damian. Something isn't right."

With that, Nicholas left, closing the door behind him.

A tense silence filled the room. Damian leaned against the edge of the table, his sharp gaze never leaving Serena. He wasn't stupid. He knew when something was being hidden from him. And right now, his wife—his mysterious wife—was keeping something from him.

He folded his arms, tilting his head slightly. "You're too quiet," he remarked.

Serena arched a brow. "I almost died last night. Should I be singing and dancing?"

Damian let out a humorless chuckle. "Funny. But I don't believe in coincidences, Serena. And last night was no damn coincidence."

Serena tightened her grip around the glass of water in her hands.

He exhaled sharply, eyes darkening as memories of last night flooded his mind.

He had walked into the penthouse, finding the place wrecked—but none of it mattered when he saw her. Serena, lifeless on the floor.

He had rushed to her side, shaken her, called her name. She looked as if she was withering away—her usually radiant skin pale and dry, like she had been left in the sun for days without a drop of water.

At first, he had tried to wake her, but she only whispered one thing in her unconscious state.

"Water."

Her lips had cracked, her breath shallow.

He had grabbed a glass of water and held it to her lips, but she kept whispering for more.

"Water."

He had brought an entire bucket of water, helping her drink, but it still wasn't enough. Two buckets later, she finally looked like herself again.

Damian clenched his jaw, staring at Serena now, fully conscious, fully fine—as if nothing had happened.

"You were dying," he said, voice quieter this time, more dangerous. "But all you wanted was water. Not a doctor. Not help. Just water."

Serena forced a small smirk, trying to brush it off. "Maybe I was just really thirsty."

Damian wasn't amused. He took a slow step toward her.

"You're hiding something from me, Serena."

Serena kept her face unreadable, but inside, her mind raced. He was getting too close to the truth. He felt it, even if he didn't understand it yet.

Damian's voice dropped lower, as if he could smell the secrets she carried.

"And I'm going to find out what it is."