One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 109: Chapter 109
You are reading One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband ---, Chapter 109: Chapter 109. Read more chapters of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband ---.
Morning spilled soft light across the breakfast table, but the mood remained quiet.
Damien stood awkwardly in the doorway, cane in hand, body stiff with healing wounds and deeper scars.
Arielle gave him a small nod, encouraging.
He took a step forward.
The children looked up one by one.
Jonah was the first to rise.
The teenage boy stood taller now, shoulders broader, expression hardened by months of fear and loss. He walked toward his father with something between hesitation and defiance.
“I—I’m sorry,” Damien began, voice low. “For not being there. For everything you had to do without me.”
Jonah didn’t speak.
Then he embraced him.
A strong, desperate hug.
“You owe us time,” Jonah whispered. “Don’t disappear again.”
“I won’t.”
Next came Iris.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak.
She just handed Damien a folded piece of paper—her latest sketch.
It was a portrait of him. But not how he looked now. How she remembered him.
Whole. Smiling. Holding Lily in his arms.
He took it with trembling fingers.
“You kept me alive,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
She sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m still angry,” she murmured.
“I deserve that.”
“But I’m glad you came back.”
Lily came toddling last.
She blinked up at him, clutched her bunny tighter.
“Dada hurt?”
Damien crouched with a wince.
“A little.”
She kissed his cheek.
“All better now.”
He laughed through tears.
Arielle watched from the doorway, hands folded over her chest.
She had carried their family. Their legacy. Their pain.
And now, piece by piece, they were coming back together.
But it wasn’t easy.
At lunch, Damien tried to join a conversation about school—but Iris shut down.
That night, Jonah slammed his door when Damien asked too many questions.
Lily clung to Arielle more than him.
The storm hadn’t passed.
It had just paused.
But Damien was patient.
He began reading bedtime stories again. Helping with homework. Sitting quietly beside Jonah while he gamed. Listening.
Being there.
One night, Iris left her sketchbook open on his desk.
Inside: a new drawing.
A full family portrait.
And for the first time since he’d returned, Damien wept alone.
Not out of grief.
But out of fragile, flickering hope.
Damien stood awkwardly in the doorway, cane in hand, body stiff with healing wounds and deeper scars.
Arielle gave him a small nod, encouraging.
He took a step forward.
The children looked up one by one.
Jonah was the first to rise.
The teenage boy stood taller now, shoulders broader, expression hardened by months of fear and loss. He walked toward his father with something between hesitation and defiance.
“I—I’m sorry,” Damien began, voice low. “For not being there. For everything you had to do without me.”
Jonah didn’t speak.
Then he embraced him.
A strong, desperate hug.
“You owe us time,” Jonah whispered. “Don’t disappear again.”
“I won’t.”
Next came Iris.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak.
She just handed Damien a folded piece of paper—her latest sketch.
It was a portrait of him. But not how he looked now. How she remembered him.
Whole. Smiling. Holding Lily in his arms.
He took it with trembling fingers.
“You kept me alive,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
She sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m still angry,” she murmured.
“I deserve that.”
“But I’m glad you came back.”
Lily came toddling last.
She blinked up at him, clutched her bunny tighter.
“Dada hurt?”
Damien crouched with a wince.
“A little.”
She kissed his cheek.
“All better now.”
He laughed through tears.
Arielle watched from the doorway, hands folded over her chest.
She had carried their family. Their legacy. Their pain.
And now, piece by piece, they were coming back together.
But it wasn’t easy.
At lunch, Damien tried to join a conversation about school—but Iris shut down.
That night, Jonah slammed his door when Damien asked too many questions.
Lily clung to Arielle more than him.
The storm hadn’t passed.
It had just paused.
But Damien was patient.
He began reading bedtime stories again. Helping with homework. Sitting quietly beside Jonah while he gamed. Listening.
Being there.
One night, Iris left her sketchbook open on his desk.
Inside: a new drawing.
A full family portrait.
And for the first time since he’d returned, Damien wept alone.
Not out of grief.
But out of fragile, flickering hope.
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