ANOTHER UNNERVING SURPRISE

"Welcome back!" Damian says as we saunter into my house.


I heave out a deep sigh in and out. I can't say I messed up my house or that I missed being home because what I had was so terrific, but I don't want to be back either since we had no choice. "Mmh! Thank you, and welcome back too," I taunt back as we stroll inside my condo.

He shuts the door after resting the two heavy satchels inside. "Do you want to have a few minutes of rest before going to work? I know you aren't used to those long, tiresome drives." Damian mumbles as he hauls our suitcases further inside.

A rest? I wouldn't mind, but he made me have enough rest during the vacation. Now, we are needed in the office. "Thank you for being such a sweet, caring daddy, but no. We have been away for a week so there is no way I would get even a wink of sleep given that we are back and needed. Work is calling, and I am good," I retort with my most convincing expression.


"As you say, my queen," he hunches his head down in a playful bow, a smirk poulticed to his face, revealing the eye-catching dimples. Well, it is nothing new. It is just him and his bewitching beauty that can't go unnoticed, and it is my adoration for him. "So shall we take a bath together?" He adds.

"Sure. You need help with those?" I gesture at the heavy satchels, hoping he would accept my aid in lugging them upstairs, but... pass!


He shakes my idea ohh. "No, baby. I can better make use of my muscles this way."

With a subtle smirk gracing my lips in response to his joke, I take the lead and guide the way upstairs, my eagerness palpable. The anticipation of returning to work fills me with a sense of excitement.

Upon reaching the door to my bedroom, I swing it open, only to be met with a surprising sight that instantly captures my attention. In here, occupying the floor with their imposing presence, are two massive satchels that clearly do not belong to me. They look fully stuffed. Their unfamiliarity sends a jolt of curiosity through me, prompting questions to swirl in my mind.

As I pivot to face Damian, the soft thud of the items he has deposited on the floor echoes in the room. Memories of his thoughtful gesture flood my mind, recalling how he meticulously packed my essentials before our departure for that much-needed getaway. His considerate nature had always been a constant in our interactions.

But now, at this moment, a seed of suspicion begins to germinate. He was indeed the last person in my condo before we embarked on our trip. Could he possibly hold a clue to the mystery unfolding before me?

"These aren't mine," I state calmly, pointing at the bags, but he doesn't look surprised at all, but... nervous?

As I calmly point out that the bags aren't mine, Damian's lack of surprise is unsettling. His demeanor, usually composed and collected, now betrays a nervous energy. The rhythmic motion of his hand scratching his head adds to my growing unease. Is he hiding something? Could he be planning to leave? My mind races with questions, searching for answers in his actions.

'Umh, they are mine!"

His sudden admission that the bags belong to him catches me off guard. As he slumps onto the bed, avoiding direct eye contact, his discomfort becomes palpable. His gaze flickers around the room, evading mine as if seeking refuge in the familiar surroundings.

I glance towards the closet, where his clothes still hang undisturbed, a stark contrast to the bags on the floor. Confusion clouds my thoughts as I try to reconcile his claim with the evidence before me. If these bags are his, then why the secrecy? Why the nervous demeanor?

A knot forms in my stomach as I realize that there may be more to this situation than meets the eye. With each passing moment, the tension in the room grows thicker, begging for resolution. But until Damian is willing to meet my gaze and reveal the truth behind his actions, the mystery remains unsolved, hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

I stroll to the suitcases and try to lift them up, but, my! How many kg do I weigh again? They are damn heavy.

So, they are his? plus the one he just returned with—those are three suitcases full of his clothes. Plus the spare ones I have in my closet—that kind of equates to almost half of his clothes. What is this? Another trip wouldn't require the two huge, giant suitcases. He hasn't even told me a thing about going away, duh!

I turn to him with questions lingering in my head. "Are you going on a trip?" I query with a very heavy heart, confusion apparent both on my face and in my tone.

He finally meets my eyes. "No, come on! Do you think I can afford to be away from work this soon again?"

I know that, but this is all confusing. "Okay, no." I sigh out loud. "So what? What's with the suitcases then?" I anxiously implore.

He springs to his feet, and his sudden movement catches me off guard, and I can't help but notice the unfamiliar sight of him fiddling nervously with his fingers. It is a subtle gesture, but it speaks volumes, setting off alarm bells in my mind. When did this start? I mean, is he getting this nervous?

"Damian?" I call out, bridging the gap between us and peering up at his face, searching for answers in his expression. 'Talk to me. What is going on here?"

His response is hesitant, his words stumbling over each other as if struggling to escape from behind clenched teeth. "I just thought that we should..." His voice trails off, swallowed by the weight of his own apprehension.

His eyes, usually so warm and comforting, now betray a mixture of fear and worry, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. They bore into mine, seeking solace and understanding, yet holding back secrets that he was not yet ready to reveal. I am beginning to hate this, you know.

As I meet his gaze, I can sense the depth of his turmoil and the unspoken fears and uncertainties that threaten to engulf us both.

So, what the hell is happening here? He thought we should do what? Proceed to another vacation, perhaps in Dubai or something? "I hate freaking out, so please spare me the anxiety, Damian. What is it?"