The 365 days wife

The weight of Caroline's presence lingered in the room long after she had left, like the echo of a sharp whisper in an empty hall. Ava sat still, her spine straight, her fingers grazing the edges of the book she had abandoned on the mahogany desk. The air felt heavier now, thick with unspoken words and veiled threats.

She had braced herself for Damien's parents, had expected the quiet condescension of Eleanor and the calculating scrutiny of Nathalie. But Caroline? She had been an unforeseen storm, one that didn't arrive with outright hostility, but with something far more dangerous—curiosity laced with doubt.

It wasn't hatred. No, hatred was easier to deal with. What Caroline carried was skepticism, a lingering question mark over Ava's worth, as if she were a puzzle piece forced into a frame that didn't quite fit.

And Ava knew that in this world, doubt was the first step toward rejection.

She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to release the tension that had settled in her chest. The study, with its towering bookshelves and dim lighting, suddenly felt too enclosed, too suffocating. She needed air.

And perhaps… she needed Damien.

A Husband's Absence

The mansion was grand, cold in its silence, as if it had been designed to swallow warmth whole. Ava wandered through its halls, her steps measured, her mind replaying every word of her earlier interrogation.

She hadn't seen Damien since last night. Not after the gala, not after the spectacle of their marriage had been laid bare for the world to consume.

And perhaps that was intentional.

She finally found him in his office, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his broad shoulders stiff, his hands in the pockets of his tailored vest. The city skyline stretched before him, gleaming under the afternoon sun, a kingdom of power and wealth—a world he ruled with ruthless precision.

For a moment, she simply observed him, her gaze tracing the sharp lines of his profile, the unreadable expression in his steel-gray eyes.

He was a man made of stone, sculpted by expectation and responsibility. And she? She was the unexpected crack in that foundation.

Still, she refused to be ignored.

"You weren't at breakfast," she said finally, stepping inside.

Damien didn't turn. "I had business to attend to."

Lies. Or at least, a convenient half-truth.

Ava crossed her arms, leaning against the polished oak desk. "Your parents asked a lot of questions."

Now, he turned, his gaze finally meeting hers, unreadable yet piercing. "I imagine they did."

Ava exhaled sharply. "They don't think I belong here."

His lips quirked, but there was no amusement in it. "Did you expect them to welcome you with open arms?"

"No," she admitted, her voice steady. "But I didn't expect to be treated like a liability either."

He studied her, his silence stretching, his gaze weighing something unseen.

"Are you?" he asked quietly.

Ava's fingers curled into her palm. "Are you asking me if I regret this marriage?"

Damien stepped closer, his presence a quiet force of gravity. "Do you?"

She held his gaze, refusing to look away. "No. But I wonder if you do."

Something flickered in his expression—gone too fast to decipher.

"You shouldn't waste your time wondering about things that don't change the outcome," he said simply.

Her throat tightened. "Then tell me this—when do I stop being a stranger in my own marriage?"

Silence.

It was the only answer he offered before turning back to the window, as if the conversation had already ended in his mind.

But for Ava, it was far from over.

---

The Scars of the Past

That night, she couldn't sleep.

The weight of scrutiny, of expectation, of Damien's emotional distance—it all sat heavily on her chest, pressing down like an invisible force.

The whispers of the media had grown louder, each headline, each article chipping away at her existence. She had known stepping into this world would come with battles, but she hadn't realized how lonely the war would feel.

Ava pulled the silk robe around her and left the bedroom, her bare feet silent against the cool marble floors. The mansion was still, its grandeur even more imposing under the hush of midnight.

She found herself in the library, drawn by the promise of solitude. But as she stepped inside, she realized she wasn't alone.

Damien was there.

He stood by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the dim glow casting long shadows over his features.

For a moment, she hesitated, watching him. There was something different about him in the quiet of the night, something raw, stripped of the control he always exuded.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured, not looking at her.

Ava exhaled softly. "No."

A beat of silence. Then, he gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit."

She did.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The crackling fire filled the space between them, a companion to the silence.

Finally, Damien broke it. "Do you know why my mother is the way she is?"

Ava blinked at the unexpected question. "Because she was raised in a world where power is everything?"

His lips curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. "That, and because she was once in your position."

Ava frowned. "What do you mean?"

Damien set his glass down, his fingers tapping against the crystal. "She wasn't born into this life. She married into it. And she had to fight for her place every single day."

Ava absorbed his words, the revelation settling heavily in her mind.

"She sees herself in you," Damien continued, his voice quieter now. "And that terrifies her."

Ava looked at him. "Why?"

Damien's gaze met hers, something unreadable flickering within. "Because she knows exactly how brutal this world can be. And she wonders if you have what it takes to survive it."

Ava swallowed, the weight of his words pressing into her bones.

"I don't intend to break," she said softly.

Damien studied her, something shifting in his expression.

"Good," he murmured. "Because this family will test you until you do."

Ava didn't look away. "Then let them test me."

A slow, almost imperceptible nod.

And for the first time since their marriage began, Damien looked at her not as a stranger, not as an inconvenience—but as someone who might just survive in his world.