She would marry someone else one day.
But that day was not today.
Today, she was still picking up the pieces.
Today, she was still trying to hold them together.
Today, she was still his.
Barely.
---
The one hundred forty-ninth week, the world moved on.
But Damien and Christabel didn't.
The video was gone.
The copies were gone.
The witnesses were gone.
But the memory remained.
And the memory was eating them alive.
---
The penthouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
Christabel sat on the couch.
Staring at nothing.
Damien stood at the window.
Staring at the city.
They hadn't spoken in hours.
Not since the video.
Not since the shooting.
Not since the calls.
The silence was heavy.
The silence was loud.
The silence was killing them.
---
Lena was with the nanny.
In the building. In the apartment next door.
Safe.
Away from the tension.
Away from the fear.
Away from them.
Christabel missed her.
She missed her laugh.
Her questions.
Her light.
But she couldn't be around her right now.
Not like this.
Not broken.
---
Damien turned from the window.
"We need to talk."
"We need to not talk."
"We need to—"
"We need to breathe."
He walked to her.
Sat beside her.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For scaring you."
"You didn't scare me."
"I scared Marcus."
"Marcus is fine."
"Marcus has a bullet hole in his leg."
"Marcus is alive."
"Barely."
"Enough."
---
He took her hand.
"I love you."
"I know."
"I love you in ways I didn't know I was capable of."
She looked at him.
"I know. Because I love you the same way."
"Then why does it feel like we're falling apart?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Because we are."
---
The words hung in the air.
Damien's hand tightened around hers.
"I don't want to lose you."
"You're not going to lose me."
"I feel like I'm losing you."
"You're not."
"Then why does it feel like you're already gone?"
She looked at him.
Her eyes were wet.
"Because I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of us."
---
He pulled her into his arms.
"We're going to be okay."
"How do you know?"
"Because we've survived worse."
"Have we?"
"We've survived everything."
"This is different."
"How?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Because this time, the enemy is us."
---
That night, Christabel put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
Lena was full of questions.
"Mama, why are you sad?"
"Mama's not sad."
"Your eyes are wet."
"They're tired."
"Why are you tired?"
"Because Mama didn't sleep."
"Why didn't you sleep?"
Christabel was quiet for a moment.
"Because Mama was thinking."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's asleep?"
"She's dreaming."
"Of what?"
"Of you."
He walked to her.
Took her hand.
"I called Marcus Webb."
"The therapist?"
"He's coming tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Because we need help."
She stared at him.
"You're going to therapy?"
"We're going to therapy."
"You hate therapy."
"I hate losing you more."
---
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she kissed him.
Not softly.
The way she kissed him when she was scared.
"I love you."
"I know."
"I love you in ways I didn't know I was capable of."
He touched her face.
"I know. Because I love you the same way."
---
The next morning, Marcus Webb arrived.
Not at the penthouse.
At the building.
In a small room. Neutral. Safe.
Damien and Christabel sat on one side.
Marcus sat on the other.
"It's been a long time," Marcus said.
"Not long enough," Damien said.
Christabel elbowed him.
"Be nice."
"I'm being honest."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
Marcus leaned forward.
"I've read the reports. I've seen the video. I know what happened."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"Then you know why we're here."
"I think I do."
"Then help us."
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
"I can't help you if you're not honest."
"We're being honest."
"Damien—"
"I'm being honest."
"You shot a man."
"He touched my wife."
"His hand was on her arm."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
Christabel spoke.
"We're not here to fight."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because we love each other."
"That's not enough."
"It has to be."
Marcus looked at her.
"Why?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"Because it's all we have."
---
The session lasted two hours.
Damien talked.
Christabel talked.
Marcus listened.
When it was over, they walked out together.
Hand in hand.
Not fixed.
Not healed.
But trying.
And trying was something.
---
That night, Christabel put Lena to bed.
Not Damien. Her.
Lena was full of questions.
"Mama, why is Papa smiling?"
"Because Papa is trying."
"Trying what?"
"To be better."
Lena thought about that.
"Can Papa be better?"
Christabel smiled.
"He already is."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's asleep?"
"She's dreaming."
"Of what?"
"Of you."
He walked to her.
Took her hand.
"Therapy was hard."
"I know."
"Marcus asked hard questions."
"I know."
"I didn't like the answers."
She looked at him.
"Neither did I."
First Line of Chapter 194 (Teaser):
"The one hundred fiftieth week, the cracks became chasms. Damien and Christabel were trying. But trying wasn't enough. And the person who would tear them apart was closer than they thought."