SAVING VENUS

Chapter Five: Chemistry and Collisions

MAYA

The worst thing Damian could've given me wasn't silence. It was kindness.

I showed up the next day expecting cold shoulders and passive-aggressive planks. Instead, I got adjusted stretches, calm corrections, and the quiet offer of a cold water bottle without a single snide comment.

Was this... forgiveness? Or worse understanding?

Either way, it rattled me.

We trained in near-silence. He didn't mention the fight. I didn't apologize again. But something had changed. The space between us felt warmer. Not romantic yet. But charged. Like every brush of his hand adjusting my form held just a beat too long.

During cool-down, he knelt beside me while I stretched my hamstrings.

"You okay?" he asked, voice softer than usual.

I looked at him. Really looked. Sweat curling at his temple, brows slightly furrowed like he wasn't just checking my posture but scanning my soul.

"Are you?" I asked.

He blinked.

And then he smiled. Not a full one. Just a twitch. But it was the first time I'd seen it.

Damian Cole had a smile.

And apparently, I was not emotionally prepared for it.

Work was weird in a good way. I actually enjoyed being there. I wasn't hiding behind my desk or hoping no one noticed me.

During our Monday strategy meeting, I pitched a new angle for a struggling corporate case. My boss nodded like I'd just unlocked a secret level in his brain.

Later, he pulled me aside. "You've been on fire lately. I want you to co-lead the acquisition deal for BarristerTech."

What.

Me? The girl who used to shrink into chairs and let other people shine?

I walked back to my desk with shaky pride. And then Marsha popped out of nowhere, like an annoying jack-in-the-box.

"You've got this... glow," she said, eyeing me up and down.

"Must be endorphins," I replied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Or a man."

I stared at her. "Not today, Marsha."

And walked away. Power move achieved.

Back at Elevate Lab the next morning, I walked in early, clutching my protein bar like a boss.

Then I saw her.

Camilla.

Long legs, perfect braid, face like a luxury magazine ad. She was laughing. With Damian.

And not just laughing like, full body laugh. Shoulders back, eyes closed. The kind of laugh you only do with someone who knows your secrets.

"Hey," I said casually.

Damian looked over. "Hey. Maya, this is Camilla. Old friend. She's visiting from Milan."

Of course she was. Milan.

Camilla turned, all charm and glow. "You must be the famous Maya. I've heard about you."

Famous?

I smiled with every tooth I had. "All good things, I hope."

"Oh, definitely. Damian says you've got real fight."

Fight? What else had he said?

I changed quickly and joined them for warm-up. Camilla stayed to watch. I could feel her eyes scanning every squat, every stretch. She wasn't rude. She was... poised. Confident. And familiar.

Too familiar.

Midway through the workout, my coordination betrayed me. I dropped the medicine ball twice. Tripped during mountain climbers. Missed a beat on the sled push. Damian's voice cut through the fog.

"Focus."

But the way he said it calm, even, like he didn't notice how Camilla's perfume was still hanging in the air was too much.

I looked up, heart pounding, ego bruised, and snapped before I could stop myself:

"Maybe you should train with someone who's not in love with you."

Silence.

Camilla froze mid-sip of her vitamin water.

Damian's jaw clenched, barely, but his eyes didn't leave mine. He didn't flinch. Didn't yell. Just... stared. Like he was trying to figure out if I meant it or if I was just bleeding in the middle of his gym floor.

I opened my mouth. "I didn't"

He turned away. Calm. Controlled. He reset the weights like nothing happened, like I hadn't just shattered the weird, fragile rhythm we'd built.

Camilla gave me a tight, pitying smile before saying a soft goodbye and slipping out.

The rest of the session was robotic. Mechanical reps. No adjustments. No tension. But also no warmth.

When it was over, I picked up my bag in silence and left without saying goodbye.

At home, I flopped onto my bed and opened my notebook.

"He said this was war with myself. So why does it feel like he's the battlefield? Why did I say that? And why do I care so much if he hears me bleed?"

I closed the notebook and stared at the ceiling.

I am falling.

And I think I just cracked the ground I was falling into.