Rebirth: Love me Again

[ESTELLE]

The moment Damien left the ballroom, I knew where he was going.

Because heartbreak has a predictable pattern—first, the stunned silence. Then, the walk of shame past a crowd of whispering guests. And finally, the reckless attempt to drown it all in alcohol.

And Damien? Oh, he was textbook.

I found him exactly where I thought I would—at The Blue Ember, a bar just far enough from the fancy gala to ensure none of the event's guests would come looking for him.

Except for me, of course.

The scene was almost cinematic—Damien slumped over the bar, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey, the other rubbing his temple like he was trying to massage the pain out of existence. His tie was loose, his jacket discarded on the seat beside him, and his usually perfect hair was a mess from frustrated fingers raking through it.

I approached cautiously, my heels clicking against the wooden floor. The bartender shot me a glance as if to ask, Are you sure about this?

No. No, I was absolutely not sure about this. But when had that ever stopped me?

I slid onto the barstool next to him. "So," I said, resting my chin on my hand. "How's the whole proposing-and-getting-rejected-in-front-of-hundreds-of-people thing working out for you?"

Damien groaned and took a long sip of his drink. "Go away."

"Can't." I waved at the bartender. "I'm on heartbreak patrol tonight. And you, my friend, are a code red situation."

He let out a dry chuckle, but it was bitter, humorless. "I don't need a babysitter."

"No, but you need someone to tell you that proposing to a woman who has spent most of her time choosing her career over you was a dumb move."

He glared at me. "Not in the mood, Estelle."

"Good, because neither am I," I shot back. "Look, I get it. You're hurting. But you have two choices right now—sit here and drink until you forget your own name, or realize that maybe, just maybe, this is the best thing that could have happened to you."

Damien scoffed. "Best thing? I just got humiliated in front of everyone. And for what? For a woman who isn't ready for me." He downed the rest of his drink and gestured for another.

I sighed dramatically. "Wow, what a revelation!" I clapped slowly. "Glad you're finally catching up to what the rest of us have known for ages."

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Progress.

"You deserve better, Damien," I said softly. "Someone who sees you for who you truly are—not someone who treats you like a backup plan. Someone who actually wants you, not someone who runs the moment things get serious."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And who would that be?"

I took his glass before he could take another sip. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe someone who has been sitting beside you all night, listening to you mope and preventing you from making more terrible decisions?" I batted my lashes. "Ring any bells?"

Damien stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a short laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"And you," I said, tapping his forehead lightly, "are blind and stubborn."

His lips twitched slightly, but there was still something heavy in his gaze. "It's not that simple."

I sighed. "I know it's not. But you've spent so much time chasing after someone who keeps shoving you away that you don't even see what's right in front of you."

His eyes met mine then—really met mine. For the first time tonight, he wasn't looking past me or through me. He was seeing me.

And just like that, my heart was in my throat.

He reached for his drink, only to realize I was still holding it hostage. His fingers brushed over mine, and I froze, my breath catching.

"You know," he murmured, tilting his head, "for someone who claims they don't want to make bad decisions, you're awfully close to making one right now."

I smirked. "That depends." I leaned in slightly, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. "Are you finally considering making a good one?"

His gaze dropped to my lips for a split second before he exhaled and leaned back. "You really are impossible."

"And yet, here I am. Still here. Unlike one woman we both know." I raised a brow.

Something flickered in his expression—an understanding, a realization. He swallowed, looking away, but not before I caught the faintest hint of a smile.

"You're not going to let me drink myself into oblivion, are you?"

"Absolutely not." I hopped off the stool and grabbed his jacket. "Come on, sad boy. We're getting out of here."

He blinked. "Where?"

"Anywhere but here," I said, throwing his jacket at him. "Preferably somewhere that doesn't smell like regret and cheap whiskey."

He hesitated for a moment before sighing and standing up. "You're really annoying."

"And yet, you're still following me." I grinned, looping my arm through his. "Face it, Damien. I might just be the best decision you never saw coming."

As we walked out of the bar, for the first time that night, he didn't argue.

I didn't know what happened next—everything blurred together in a haze of heat and reckless urgency. One moment, we were drowning in liquor and heartache; the next, we were tangled in the dim glow of a hotel room, our lips colliding in a desperate, fevered kiss.

I knew he was drunk. Vulnerable. His emotions were raw, barely held together by the numbing comfort of alcohol, and I was keenly aware that I was taking advantage of the moment.

But . . . who cares?

All's fair in love and war, isn't it?

Kelsey had already rejected Damien. She had thrown him aside without a second thought, leaving him wounded and adrift. And now? Now, he was here with me, seeking solace, seeking warmth.

And I wasn't going to waste this opportunity.

Tonight, I would be the one he turned to. The one he needed. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment, even if he would regret it when the sun rose, I would be the one in his arms.

Because in love, sometimes you have to take what's yours before someone else does.