The soft thud of the car door closing echoed through the quiet night.
Damien settled into the back seat, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as the driver smoothly pulled out of the Lu estate. The low hum of the engine filled the air, steady and unintrusive, blending seamlessly with the distant rhythm of the city beyond the tinted windows.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Not in this car.Not on these streets.Not even in the present.
It was still at the dinner table.
Still on her.
"I have an early meeting with a client tomorrow."
A simple excuse. Neat, effortless. As if declining the invitation had required no thought at all.
Liyana had always been good at that—masking, controlling, keeping everything precise. But tonight, something had slipped.
Something small. Something almost imperceptible.
Yet Damien had caught it.
When he had called her his sister—
For the briefest second, her expression had changed.
Most wouldn't have noticed.
Most would have been fooled by the way she had smoothly lifted her wine glass, by the way her lips had curved in that calm, composed smile.
But Damien wasn't most people.
And he had seen it.
A flicker. A shift. Something sharp, something almost irritated—before she had buried it beneath that same effortless indifference.
She had hidden it well.
Too well.
And that was what unsettled him.
Because Liyana never let anything slip. Not unless she wanted to.
So why?
Why did that one word—sister—make her react like that?
His fingers tapped against the armrest, slow and thoughtful. The city lights blurred past, neon reflections streaking against the glass, but his focus remained inward.
The more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him.
Had she always been like this?
Or had something changed?
He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the seat.
No.
Everything had changed.
His mind drifted further, past the dinner, past the present—slipping into something deeper.
Seven years ago.
The day she said goodbye.
Seven Years Ago – The Day She Said Goodbye
The Lu estate had been bathed in the golden hues of late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows against the manicured lawns. The scent of freshly trimmed hedges lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the tea that had long gone cold on the garden table.
Damien stood near the entrance, hands tucked into his pockets, exuding his usual calm authority. His suitcase was already in the car, the final arrangements set. In a few hours, he would be on a flight overseas, taking another step toward expanding his business empire.
It was a necessary move. A logical one.
Yet, as he turned his gaze toward the young woman standing before him, he felt an unexpected weight settle in his chest.
Liyana.
She was eighteen then—no longer the girl who used to trail behind him at family gatherings, nor the one who used to watch him with those bright, eager eyes.
She stood with quiet composure, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. The evening light softened her features, making her look almost serene.
"You leave tonight?"
Her voice was steady. No hesitation, no tremor. Just a simple question.
Damien nodded. "Yes. The arrangements have been finalized."
A pause.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "For how long?"
"A few years, at least."
Another pause. This time, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her eyes.
"I see."
No complaints. No reluctance.
No childish clinginess.
It was strange. Had this been a few years ago, she would have been upset, maybe even tried to argue against it. But now, she simply accepted it with an understanding that felt… unnatural for someone her age.
Where was the usual warmth? The unguarded emotions?
He had expected something different.
Maybe a pout. A small protest. Some trace of attachment.
But there was none of that.
She was too calm.
Too distant.
And for the first time, Damien felt something shift—something he couldn't quite name.
"Take care, Damien."
She smiled then, soft and polite.
And that was the moment it struck him.
She wasn't holding back tears.She wasn't trying to make him stay.She wasn't asking him when he would return.
She was letting him go.
Effortlessly.
As if he were nothing more than a passing moment in her life.
It hadn't bothered him at the time. He had assumed she was simply growing up—maturing.
But now, as he sat in the present, seven years later, watching the city lights blur past, he realized something.
That day…
That day, Liyana had already decided to stop chasing him.
And he had been too blind to notice.
The weight of realization settled deep in his chest.
He had been so focused on the day she let him go—when she was eighteen—that he had overlooked the real turning point.
Liyana hadn't stopped chasing him that night.
She had stopped two years before that.
When she was sixteen.
That was when everything changed.
His fingers pressed against his temple as his mind rewound to a night he had long forgotten.
The night she overheard him.
The night she stopped looking at him with admiration.
The night she stopped being a girl in love.
And he—stupidly, blindly—hadn't even noticed.
The Lu estate was quiet that evening, bathed in the golden glow of the garden lanterns. The faint hum of the city beyond the gates was barely audible, drowned out by the rustling leaves and the distant sound of the fountain.
Damien stood on the balcony, the cool evening breeze ruffling the sleeves of his dress shirt. A woman beside him—someone he barely remembered now—laughed lightly, swirling the wine in her glass.
"She follows you around like a lost puppy, doesn't she?"
He had smirked then, shaking his head.
"She's just a kid."
It wasn't something he had thought deeply about. The words had come out effortlessly, a mere statement of fact.
"She'll grow out of it."
A part of him had meant it as reassurance—perhaps to himself, or perhaps to the woman beside him.
Liyana was sixteen at the time. A bright-eyed girl who still looked at him with that gaze—the kind that always carried unspoken admiration.
She had always been that way.
Clinging to his presence. Seeking his approval. Smiling just a little too brightly whenever he noticed her.
He hadn't seen anything wrong with it.
She was family.
And as far as he was concerned, she was bound to outgrow whatever childish attachment she had to him.
But then—movement.
Out of the corner of his eye, beyond the balcony railing, something shifted in the dimly lit garden below.
A small, familiar figure.
Liyana.
She had been standing there.
How long? He didn't know.
For a brief second, their gazes almost met. Or at least, he thought they did. But before he could confirm it—
She turned away.
No hesitation. No pause.
Just turned her back on him and walked off into the night.
Damien had frowned.
Something about the way she moved—silent, composed, deliberate—felt different.
Liyana never left without at least saying something to him.
Never.
Yet that night, she disappeared without a single word.
And for some reason, it lingered in his mind longer than it should have.
Present – Inside the Car
Damien's fingers tapped against the armrest, his jaw tightening.
Nine years.
Nine years ago, Liyana had walked away from him for the first time.
And he… had let her go without a second thought.
A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, bitter amusement curling at the edges.
"Sir, you seem to be in a good mood," the driver remarked.
Damien exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly, his smirk lingering.
"Do I?"
He closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself to sink into the realization.
He had called her his sister that night.
And ever since then, Liyana had never let him call her that again.