One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 144: Chapter 144

The moon rose like a pale sentinel over the waves, casting a soft silver path across the dark ocean. Tiki torches lined the perimeter of the beach villa’s patio, their flames flickering with every brush of salt wind. It was quiet—almost too quiet for a night so heavy.
Arielle stood barefoot on the sand, arms wrapped around herself as the wind tugged gently at the hem of her cotton dress. Behind her, the house was dark except for the faint glow of a nightlight in the children’s room. Their laughter from earlier had faded into sleep.
Damien emerged slowly from the villa’s back door, holding two mugs of herbal tea. He offered her one without a word.
She took it, their fingers brushing. He didn’t step back.
They stood in silence for a long moment, the torches painting shadows on their skin, their unspoken words pulsing in the air like embers.
“I didn’t want to ruin this trip,” Damien finally said.
“You already did,” Arielle whispered, not cruelly, just honestly.
He exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
“I know.”
He looked surprised.
“I know you didn’t,” she said again, more softly this time. “But there are other ways to betray someone, Damien.”
The night pulsed with tension, then softened with her voice.
“I just… need to understand. Who is she to you?”
He lowered himself to sit on the cushioned bench under the torches. She followed, sitting across from him, knees nearly touching.
“She’s… a ghost,” he began, staring into the firepit where kindling glowed. “From when I was nineteen. Her name’s Luciana. We met during that wild year before I dropped out of undergrad for a while.”
Arielle watched him carefully.
“She was older. Confident. Dangerous in the way a hurricane is beautiful from far away.”
“You loved her?”
“I thought I did.”
He took a sip of his tea, but it didn’t seem to steady him.
“She messed me up, honestly. She was controlling. Toxic. The kind of person who knows just how to twist admiration into obedience. She walked away one night and never looked back. And I never really looked for her either.”
He glanced at Arielle.
“Until she showed up at the hospital. The day they told me you might not make it.”
The flames cracked between them.
“She said she saw it on a friend’s social media. That she just wanted to offer condolences. But I think… I think she smelled blood. And when I didn’t slam the door in her face, I let her in.”
Arielle remained still, the only movement in her the slow rise and fall of breath.
“She brought cookies?” she asked finally, voice flat.
Damien winced. “It sounds absurd now.”
“No, it sounds like you wanted comfort from someone who once broke you. Which means, on some level, you were afraid I wouldn’t come back.”
His shoulders dropped.
“I was terrified,” he admitted. “You weren’t you. You were hooked to machines. Every hour was a maybe. The kids needed me, and I didn’t even know how to breathe without you.”
He turned fully toward her now, desperation cracking the edges of his voice.
“But I swear, Arielle—she was a shadow, a mistake. I didn’t feel anything real. I just didn’t want to be alone in that kind of darkness.”
The wind picked up, and Arielle reached out, fingers grazing the side of his face.
“I wish you’d told me,” she said quietly. “Even if it would’ve hurt.”
“I was ashamed.”
Her touch dropped away.
“You still are.”
“I am.”
They sat again in silence, the fire now burning lower.
After a long pause, Damien added, “There’s more.”
She tensed.
“Not about her. About me.”
He reached for the truth as if peeling bandages off a wound that never quite healed.
“I’ve always felt like I didn’t deserve you,” he said, not looking at her. “That one day you’d wake up and realize you married someone who still fights shadows from his past. Someone who’s afraid of how much he loves you because he doesn’t know how to exist without you.”
Arielle’s breath caught.
“I act like I’m strong, like I’ve got everything under control. But when you were in that bed, dying… I felt like a boy again. Lost. And when she showed up, it reminded me that I wasn’t a man back then. That I made decisions I buried instead of dealing with.”
Arielle moved closer, cupping his cheek.
“You are a man,” she said. “Flawed. Wounded. But you came back to me. And you stayed.”
Their foreheads met, and they stayed like that for a long time.
“Next time,” she whispered, “no more shadows. Not between us. Not ever.”
He nodded, voice thick. “I promise.”
They didn’t kiss, not right away.
Instead, they sat with the weight of honesty between them—heavier than lies, but far more sacred.
The fire burned low. The wind softened.
And in the quiet of the night, forgiveness sparked.
A beginning, born from confession.