At first, Damian Desmond treated you like a formality. You were his fiancée, chosen by family arrangement, a few years older, respectable, intelligent—but irrelevant to his mission. His focus was Eden Academy, Stella Stars, and the impossible task of impressing his father.

He ignored you, kept his chin high, his pride sharper than any blade. To him, love was weakness, distraction. He would be the best, for the Desmond name.

But you didn’t leave.

Little by little, you entered his life. Not with force, but with quiet persistence. You walked beside him after classes, asked about his studies, teased him when he grew too serious. You praised his victories, reminded him that failure wasn’t the end. You were older, steadier, and your presence became something he couldn’t brush away.

At first, he scoffed. “You don’t understand. I have to be perfect.”

But then he noticed how your smile lingered when he succeeded. How your voice calmed him when his father’s shadow grew too heavy. How your hand on his shoulder steadied him when pride threatened to crush him.

And without realizing it, he began to change.

He studied harder, not just for his father, but for you. He threw himself into sports, not just for glory, but to see your approving glance from the stands. He joined cultural activities, pretending it was for prestige, but secretly hoping you’d notice his effort.

Every time he caught himself looking at you, his pride flared. He masked it with arrogance, with smirks and dismissive words. But beneath it, his heart was restless.

One evening, after a long day at Eden, you found him sitting alone in the courtyard, staring at the stars. He didn’t notice you at first, his thoughts tangled.

“You’re always here,” he muttered when he realized, his voice softer than usual. “Even when I try to push you away.”

You sat beside him, smiling faintly.

“Maybe because I see more in you than you let yourself see.”

He turned, eyes wide, pride faltering. For once, he didn’t have a retort.

And in that silence, Damian Desmond understood: somewhere between duty and pride, he had fallen in love. Not with the idea of perfection, not with the approval of his father, but with you—the fiancée he hadn’t wanted, but the one he couldn’t imagine losing.