Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains.
Iris slowly opened her eyes.
For a moment, she remained still, staring at the ceiling.
Then she remembered.
She and Damien had slept in the same bed.
She turned her head toward his side.
Empty.
Iris frowned.
She sat up and looked around the room.
That's when she noticed Damien standing near the closet.
Damien was dressed casually for once.
He wore a soft grey hoodie underneath a black leather jacket paired with loose black baggy jeans.
A sleek black watch sat around his wrist, accompanied by a simple silver bracelet.
A thin silver chain identical to Theo's rested against his hoodie, while two understated silver rings adorned his fingers.
He wore black sneakers and carried a black leather duffel bag over one shoulder.
His hair was slightly messy from sleep, giving him a more relaxed appearance than usual.
Even dressed casually, he still somehow looked effortlessly put together.
He was packing clothes into a large black suitcase.
Iris blinked.
"What are you doing?"
Damien glanced over his shoulder.
"Packing."
"I can see that."
He folded another shirt and placed it inside the suitcase.
"We're going to my apartment."
Iris stared at him.
"Your apartment?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Today."
Her eyebrows shot up.
"Today?"
Damien looked at her.
"Yes."
"And you weren't going to tell me?"
"I am telling you."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Iris shook her head.
"Damien, you can't just wake up one morning and decide we're moving."
"I'm not deciding it this morning."
"Then when did you decide?"
"I've known we were leaving once the week was over."
Iris stared at him.
"What week?"
"The week I promised my family."
She frowned.
"You promised them you'd stay here for a week."
"Exactly."
"And you've been here for a week already?"
"Yes."
Iris looked around the room.
She hadn't even realized how quickly the days had passed.
Damien closed his suitcase.
"Start packing."
Iris immediately shook her head.
"No."
Damien looked at her.
"No?"
"I'm not packing."
"Iris."
"No. You should have told me beforehand."
"I just did."
"That's not the point."
Damien sighed.
"I promised my family I'd stay here for a week after the marriage agreement. I have."
He picked up his suitcase.
"Now we're leaving."
Iris crossed her arms.
"I don't want to."
"You don't have to want to."
She glared at him.
"You're incredibly annoying."
"I've been told."
He walked toward the door.
Iris grabbed her robe and stood.
"I'm going to the bathroom."
"Fine."
She disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
A few moments later, there was a knock.
Iris looked toward the door.
"What?"
Damien's voice came from the other side.
"Please pack."
She rolled her eyes.
"You really don't give up, do you?"
"No."
She heard his footsteps moving away.
A moment later, the bedroom door opened and closed.
Damien had gone downstairs.
Iris stood silently in the bathroom.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
They were actually leaving.
She was going to Damien's apartment.
And for the first time since their marriage began, there would be no parents, no mansion staff, and no family members around them.
Just her and Damien.
Living together.
Iris sighed.
"This is going to be interesting."
Iris stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
She stood in front of the mirror for a moment, staring at her reflection.
She still couldn't believe Damien had decided they were leaving today.
"Unbelievable."
She shook her head and turned toward the shower.
A few minutes later, warm water filled the bathroom with steam as Iris stepped into the shower.
She let the water run over her, trying to clear her thoughts.
They were leaving the mansion.
And they were going to Damien's apartment.
Just the two of them.
After her shower, Iris wrapped herself in a towel and walked over to the vanity.
She dried her hair and styled it before doing her makeup.
Once she was finished, she walked into the bedroom and opened her wardrobe.
She looked through her clothes before choosing a black tie-neck top with an open back.
She paired it with dark blue baggy jeans and black heels.
She added a few simple pieces of jewelry and grabbed her black Louis Vuitton handbag.
Finally, she placed her sunglasses on top of her head.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
"Perfect."
Iris began packing her suitcase.
She picked out several outfits, shoes, toiletries, and other essentials before arranging everything inside.
Once she was satisfied, she zipped the suitcase shut.
She grabbed her handbag and pulled her suitcase behind her as she left the bedroom.
Downstairs, Damien was waiting in the foyer.
His suitcase stood beside him.
He looked up when Iris approached.
His eyes briefly moved over her outfit.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Damien glanced at her suitcase.
"That took long enough."
Iris rolled her eyes.
"You told me to pack. I packed."
"Clearly."
She gave him a look.
"Are we saying goodbye?"
Damien nodded.
"They're in the sitting room."
Iris followed him.
The family was gathered in the sitting room when they walked in.
Damien's grandfather looked up first.
"So, you're leaving today."
Damien nodded.
"The week is over."
His grandfather gave a small nod.
"You kept your promise."
"I did."
Iris smiled politely.
"We wanted to say goodbye before we left."
Damien's mother stood and walked toward Iris.
"Take care of yourself, darling."
"I will."
She gave Iris a warm hug.
"We'll miss having you here."
Iris smiled.
"I'll miss you too."
One by one, Iris said goodbye to the family.
She hugged them, thanked them for everything, and promised to visit soon.
Then she turned toward Damien's grandfather.
"Thank you for having me."
He nodded.
"You are family now, Iris."
She smiled softly.
"Thank you."
Damien stepped forward.
"We should go."
Iris nodded.
She turned back toward the family.
"Bye, everyone."
"Goodbye, Iris."
"Take care."
"Visit soon."
She smiled and waved before walking toward the door with Damien.
Outside, Damien walked toward his favorite car—a sleek dark chocolate-brown Bentley Continental GT.
He opened the trunk and placed their luggage inside.
Iris followed behind him, holding her black Louis Vuitton handbag.
She stopped when she saw the car.
"That's yours?"
Damien glanced at her.
"Yes."
"It's beautiful."
"It's my favourite."
Iris walked around it, taking in the polished brown exterior.
"I can see why."
Damien unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her.
Iris looked at him.
"You're doing it?"
"Getting you into the car?"
"Opening the door."
"Get in, Iris."
She smiled slightly.
"Bossy."
She climbed into the passenger seat.
Damien closed the door before walking around to the driver's side.
He got in, adjusted his seat, and started the engine.
The quiet purr of the Bentley filled the air.
Iris glanced at him.
"So you're driving?"
"Obviously."
"I thought we'd have a driver."
"I don't always use a driver."
He shifted into gear and pulled away from the mansion.
Iris settled comfortably into the passenger seat.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
Then Iris looked over at him.
"How far is your apartment?"
"About thirty minutes."
She nodded.
Then she suddenly remembered something.
"Does your apartment have staff?"
"No."
Iris turned toward him.
"No staff?"
"No."
"Then who's going to take care of everything?"
Damien glanced at her.
"I will."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You?"
"Yes."
Iris laughed softly.
"I've never seen you clean anything."
"I don't need to clean everything."
"Then what exactly do you do?"
"Enough."
She shook her head.
"Very convincing."
Damien smiled faintly as he kept his eyes on the road.
The rest of the drive passed quietly.
Neither of them said much.
But both knew things were about to change.
For the first time since their marriage, there would be no parents around them.
No family dinners.
No mansion staff.
Just Iris and Damien.
Thirty minutes later, the Bentley turned into a private driveway leading toward a tall, modern building.
Iris looked through the window.
"Is this it?"
Damien nodded.
"My apartment."
He pulled into the private entrance and brought the car to a smooth stop.
Iris looked up at the building.
It was sleek and impressive, with floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the afternoon sunlight.
Damien turned off the engine.
"Welcome to my place."
Damien stepped out of the car and walked around to Iris's side.
He opened her door.
Iris stepped out and looked up at the building again.
She followed Damien through the private entrance.
The elevator opened almost immediately.
They stepped inside, and Damien pressed the button for the top floor.
Iris leaned against the wall.
"So you live this high up?"
"Yes."
"Of course you do."
Damien glanced at her.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
The elevator continued upward.
When the doors finally opened, Damien stepped out first.
Iris followed him.
They stopped in front of a large dark wooden door.
Damien unlocked it.
"After you."
Iris walked inside.
She immediately stopped.
The apartment was beautiful.
It wasn't enormous like the Wells or Blackwood mansions.
Instead, it was spacious, modern, and comfortable.
The living room had large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, allowing natural light to fill the space.
A large cream-colored sectional sofa sat in the center of the room, facing a sleek black marble coffee table.
A large flat-screen television was mounted on the wall, surrounded by simple modern décor.
The walls were mostly neutral shades of cream, beige, and soft grey, giving the apartment a warm but sophisticated feel.
A few dark wooden details added contrast throughout the room.
To the side was an open-plan kitchen with white cabinets, a marble island, and modern stainless-steel appliances.
A small dining area sat between the kitchen and living room, with a dark wooden table surrounded by six comfortable chairs.
Iris slowly looked around.
"This is your apartment?"
Damien placed his suitcase near the stairs.
"Yes."
"It's actually..."
She paused.
"Manageable
"I was going to say nice."
Damien chuckled.
"You sound surprised."
"I am."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I expected something colder."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Colder?"
"More... you."
Damien gave her a look.
"I don't know what that's supposed to mean."
Iris smiled.
"You do."
She walked farther into the apartment.
A hallway led toward the bedrooms.
On one side was a small study with glass doors.
Iris glanced inside.
A large desk sat in front of the window, covered with a few neatly arranged documents and a laptop.
She looked back at Damien.
"You actually keep your office organized."
"Unlike you?"
"I didn't say that."
"You were thinking it."
"Maybe."
Damien shook his head.
He picked up his suitcase.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"Your room."
Iris stopped.
"My room?"
"Yes."
She followed him upstairs.
He opened one of the doors.
Iris stepped inside.
The bedroom was spacious but simple.
A large bed sat in the center, covered with white and grey bedding.
Two bedside tables stood on either side, each with a small lamp.
A wide window overlooked the city.
There was a walk-in closet attached to the room, along with a private bathroom.
Iris looked around.
"This is mine?"
Damien nodded.
She turned toward him.
"Its cute, but kind of dull, you know."
Damien looked at her.
"Of course it is." He said sarcastically.
Iris narrowed her eyes.
"This will do."
"It has to, you dont have a choice."
He walked back toward the door.
"I'll leave you to unpack."
Iris watched him.
"Where's your room?"
"Down the hall."
She nodded.
"Okay."
Damien picked up his suitcase.
"Take your time."
He walked out.
Iris looked around the room again.
This was officially her new home.
She had no idea how long she would be here.
Two years.
Maybe less.
Maybe longer.
But one thing was certain.
Living with Damien was going to be very different from living with their families.
And somehow, Iris had a feeling that this apartment was going to become the place where everything between them changed.
Iris finished unpacking and looked around her room.
It was still a little too dull for her liking, but at least her clothes and belongings made it feel more like hers.
After a few minutes, she walked downstairs.
Damien was sitting on the cream-colored sectional, his laptop open in front of him.
He looked up when he heard her footsteps.
"Done?"
"Almost."
She walked toward the kitchen.
"I'm hungry."
Damien glanced at the time.
"So?"
Iris turned toward him.
"So... what are we eating?"
Damien closed his laptop.
"I don't know."
Iris frowned.
"You don't know?"
"I wasn't exactly planning dinner."
She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
Her eyes widened.
It was fully stocked.
Fresh vegetables, chicken, potatoes, sauces, herbs, butter, cheese, fruits, and almost everything she could think of were inside.
Iris looked back at him.
"You have food."
Damien shrugged.
"Obviously."
"I thought you said you didn't know what we were eating."
"I don't."
Iris stared at him for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"We could cook."
Damien blinked.
"You want to cook?"
"Yes."
He stared at her like she had just suggested something completely ridiculous.
Then he chuckled.
"Are you serious?"
Iris crossed her arms.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just didn't expect you to suggest cooking."
"Well, now you know."
Damien stood up and walked toward the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator again.
"What are you making?"
Iris looked through the ingredients.
"Honey garlic chicken with roasted potatoes."
Damien raised an eyebrow.
"That's actually not bad."
Iris looked at him.
"Not bad?"
"That's a compliment coming from me."
She rolled her eyes.
"You're impossible."
Damien chuckled.
"So I've been told."
Iris pulled out the chicken and potatoes and placed them on the counter.
"Are you helping or not?"
Damien looked at the ingredients, then at her.
"Fine."
He pulled his sleeves up slightly.
"What do you want me to do?"
Iris handed him the potatoes.
"Wash and cut those."
Damien looked at the potatoes.
"That's it?"
"For now."
He picked one up.
"You're giving me the easy job."
"Because I don't trust you with anything complicated."
Damien looked at her.
"Wow."
"When it comes to cooking? Absolutely not."
He shook his head.
"Unbelievable."
Iris started preparing the chicken.
A few moments later, Damien looked over.
"How small am I supposed to cut these?"
Iris glanced at him.
"Just make them roughly the same size."
He looked down at the potato in his hand.
"They are the same size."
Iris walked over and looked at his cutting board.
She stared at the uneven pieces.
"No, they're not."
Damien looked at them.
"They're close enough."
"Damien."
"Iris."
"They're not even remotely the same size."
He chuckled.
"You said roughly."
She shook her head.
"Give me the knife."
"No."
"Damien."
"I can handle potatoes."
"Clearly."
He gave her a look.
She smiled innocently.
"Keep going, chef."
"You're enjoying this."
"Very much."
Damien continued cutting while Iris mixed the ingredients for the chicken.
After a moment, he leaned toward the bowl.
"What are you putting in that?"
"Honey, garlic, soy sauce, a little butter, and some seasoning."
He nodded.
"Smells good."
"Thank you."
"I didn't say yours smelled good."
Iris slowly looked at him.
"Excuse me?"
He smiled.
"I said it smells good."
"You're lucky I'm holding a spoon."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a warning."
Damien laughed.
Iris tried to hide her smile as she continued mixing.
When they finally put the chicken in the pan, Damien watched her carefully.
"You're supposed to let it cook."
"I know."
"Then why are you touching it?"
"Because I'm checking it."
"You've checked it three times."
"I like to be thorough."
Iris shook her head.
"You just like interfering."
"And yet dinner is coming together."
"Because of me."
"Because of us."
She paused for a second.
Then she smiled.
"Fine. I'll give you that."
Damien nodded proudly.
"Thank you."
"Don't get excited."
He laughed.
The kitchen slowly filled with the warm smell of garlic, honey, and roasted potatoes.
For once, neither of them was thinking about the marriage agreement, their families, or the two years waiting ahead of them.
They were just cooking.
Together.