Rebirth: Love me Again

[ESTELLE]

As the waiter returned, I ordered the pheasant with a sinking feeling in my chest—and a growing awareness of the empty coin pouch in my pocket.

I think I forgot my gold and withdrew some money.

"Is something the matter?" Damien asked, his smile curving in that infuriatingly calm and charming way.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some composure. "N-nothing! Just wondering . . . do they accept card here?"

Damien chuckled softly, clearly amused. "Yes, they do."

I exhaled in relief, feeling my nerves ease. "Whew! In that case, we're all set."

His chuckle turned into a low laugh that sent a warm shiver down my spine. "I'm just messing with you," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I own the café, so order whatever you want."

My jaw nearly hit the floor. He owned the café? Of course he did—because why wouldn't he? This was Damien we were talking about, the first born of Frizkiel. They own the country.

My shock quickly morphed into pure delight.

"Really?" I gasped, clasping my hands together as if he'd just told me I'd won the lottery. "That's amazing! See, this is why we're so perfect together. You're successful, I'm a rich heiress. You're capable, I'm gullible. You're serious, I'm funny. We complement each other! It's like a match made in heaven! Don't you think?"

Damien didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned his chin on his hand, watching me with that unreadable expression of his.

But I didn't let his silence stop me. Oh no, this was my moment. I barreled ahead with enthusiasm. "Think about it! You're the steady, composed type, and I'm the fun, lively one who keeps things exciting. Opposites attract, right? Plus, we both love good food, which is, like, the cornerstone of any great relationship."

I went on, listing all the reasons we were perfectly compatible—his intelligence, my creativity, his poise, my spontaneity. The words tumbled out of me like a gushing river, unstoppable and brimming with conviction.

Damien just watched, his lips twitching slightly, as though he were fighting back a smile. His silence only encouraged me to keep going.

"We'd make such a power couple," I declared with a flourish, completely caught up in my own enthusiasm. "People would see us and say, 'Wow, they're so perfect together.' I can already imagine it—Estelle and Damien, the ultimate duo!"

As I paused to take a breath, Damien finally spoke, his voice steady and cool. "You've certainly put a lot of thought into this."

His calm tone should have embarrassed me, but instead, it fueled my determination. "Of course! I'm nothing if not thorough," I said with a grin.

Damien chuckled softly again.

I beamed, taking it as a sign that he was warming up to the idea. Meanwhile, he simply leaned back in his chair, letting me revel in my own delight as he remained silent and amused by my endless chatter.

As the waiter left, and the light banter faded into a comfortable pause, I noticed a subtle shift in Damien's expression. His easy smile softened, his gaze becoming more focused, almost pensive. The playful sparkle in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something heavier—something I couldn't quite place.

He straightened slightly in his chair, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was lower, steady, and serious.

"Estelle," he began, "there's something I need to say."

The air seemed to thicken around us. The warmth I had been basking in moments ago now felt precarious, as if I were teetering on the edge of something far deeper than I'd anticipated.

"If this is just a silly crush," he said, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto mine, "then that's fine. Crushes are harmless, fleeting, even natural. But if you're being serious about your feelings for me . . ." He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as if choosing his next words carefully. "I need to be honest with you."

My heart sank. I felt a cold knot forming in my stomach, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. "Go on," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He exhaled deeply, the weight of his words seeming to take a toll on him. "I'm too old for you, Estelle. We're in completely different stages of life, and no matter how . . . endearing you are, I can't see us as anything more than what we are now."

I opened my mouth to protest, to argue that age didn't matter, but he held up a hand, silencing me before I could even begin.

"And there's something else," he added, his voice dropping even lower, almost like a confession. "I already love someone else."

The knot in my stomach tightened, threatening to choke me. His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I could feel my vision blur as tears stung my eyes.

But I refused to let my spirits fall. I had known the truth all along, but hearing it come from his own mouth felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on me.

I realized he was being gentle, not out of genuine care for my feelings, but because of who I was—because of my name. If it had been anyone else, he likely wouldn't have bothered to entertain her at all.

The thought stung, but I clenched my fists, determined not to let it show.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The bustling café around us faded into the background, leaving only the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Estelle," he said gently, reaching across the table to touch my hand. "You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, not just fragments of it. And I'm afraid mine isn't mine to give anymore."

His words were kind, but they felt like a door closing—a finality that I wasn't ready for but had no choice but to accept.

He looked so resolute, so sure of himself, like a fortress I couldn't breach. But even fortresses had weaknesses.

I clenched my fists under the table, forcing back the sting of tears. This wasn't the time to crumble. Not yet.

"You're wrong," I said, my voice firmer than I expected.

Damien's brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Estelle—"

"No, let me finish," I interrupted, leaning forward. "You think this is a silly crush? That I don't know my own feelings? That I don't understand what I'm getting into? You're underestimating me, Damien."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as though preparing for a storm. "Estelle, this isn't about underestimating your feelings. It's about warning you while its still early."

"And who decides what's right?" I challenged. "You? Just because you've already made up your mind doesn't mean I have to accept it. Nothing's set in stone, Damien. People change, situations change. You say you love someone else? Fine. But that doesn't mean it's the end for me."

His expression hardened. "Estelle, I don't want to hurt you. Clinging to something that won't work will only make it worse."

I laughed, not out of humor but sheer defiance. "You think I'm fragile? That I can't handle rejection? I'm not giving up on you just because you think I should. You're worth fighting for, and I'm willing to take that chance."

"Even if it ends in heartbreak?" he asked, his voice low, almost a warning.

I nodded. "Yes. Because heartbreak is better than regret. And I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I walked away now without giving it my all. Besides, you two aren't married. You're not even official, so I say everything is fair game."

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Damien stared at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched together. I couldn't tell if he was frustrated, impressed, or both.

"You're stubborn," he said finally, his tone carrying a mix of exasperation and admiration.

"And you're infuriatingly cute," I shot back with a small smile, though my heart was pounding.

His lips twitched, as if fighting a smile of his own. But then his expression turned serious again. "Estelle, this isn't a game."

"It's not," I agreed, leaning closer. "It's my heart. And you don't get to decide what I do with it."

Damien leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "You're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"
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I smiled, determination shining in my eyes. "Absolutely."

He sighed, shaking his head with a mix of frustration and something softer—something I couldn't quite name. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," I said with a shrug, my grin widening. "But I've never been one to give up easily."

And just like that, I saw the faintest crack in his resolve—a glimmer of something uncertain, something vulnerable.

It wasn't a victory, not yet. But it was enough to remind me that nothing truly was set in stone.