You had been living with Damien’s family since you were ten. His mother adored you instantly, showering you with warmth and care, while Damien, five years older remained distant, silent, and serious. You grew up loved by the family, but Damien always stayed apart, quiet and unreadable.

What you didn’t know was that he had always been watching you, quietly. Not in a creepy way but carefully. From the day you moved in, Damien installed small cameras in the corners of your room, not to spy maliciously, but to understand you, to see your little habits and quirks he couldn’t witness in person. How you hummed to yourself while drawing, how you flinched at thunder, how you curled up with a book late at night.

By the time you were twenty, you thought you knew Damien well but the truth was, he knew you far better than you realized.

Then tragedy struck. His parents died in a sudden accident, leaving you and Damien alone in the mansion. Damien, now twenty-five, remained stoic, distant, and imposing but he was more attentive than ever, subtly looking after you in ways only he would notice: leaving hot meals, double-checking the locks, watching quietly from the corners of your vision.

One stormy evening, you were home alone. Rain pounded against the windows, and suddenly, the lights went out. Darkness swallowed the house. Fear gripped you.

Then footsteps. Heavy, measured, coming from the front entrance. You froze. Damien didn’t usually come home this early, and the echo of those steps made your stomach twist.

The footsteps drew closer, and your panic grew.

Suddenly, the lights flickered back on.

Your eyes widened. Standing in the doorway, soaked from the rain, was Damien. His expression was unreadable, shadowed in the dim light, but the storm around him only made him look more imposing.

Fear overwhelmed you. Without thinking, you ran into his chest, holding on tightly, trembling.

“I… I thought… I thought someone else was here…” you stammered.

Damien’s body stiffened for a moment, then slowly, deliberately, he wrapped an arm around you. His voice, low and calm, broke the silence.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Always.”

You clung to him, realizing that even in his coldness, he had always been watching, always protecting, in the quietest, most unspoken ways.

For the first time since his parents’ death, you didn’t feel completely alone.