Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 194

Chapter 194

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MITT

The movie ran for over ninety minutes, and Aubrey spent nearly every second of it tucked away in Damon’s arms.

Whenever the tension on screen spiked, she would fist her hands into his dress shirt and press her face against his chest. She was secretly grateful she hadn’t put on any makeup today; otherwise, his expensive white shirt would have been ruined by foundation and powder.

Even during the lulls in the action, Aubrey didn’t dare pull away from Damon’s embrace. She knew how these movies worked–the quiet, mundane scenes were usually just a setup for a jump scare designed to send your heart into your throat.

Truth be told, Damon was feeling the tension too, but any fear he felt was completely eclipsed by the sensation of her soft body pressed against his and the intoxicating scent of her skin.

He thrived on it–the feeling of Aubrey actually needing him, of being the anchor she clung to in the dark.

The movie was a masterclass in suspense, and despite being terrified out of her mind, Aubrey found herself hopelessly hooked. She couldn’t look away, her curiosity warring with her instinct to hide.

There was no denying it was a well–made film; the problem was that it was a little too effective. She was struggling to process the sheer intensity of it

all.

As they finally stepped out of the theater, Aubrey tried her best to look composed, but her mind was still racing. Every shadow felt heavy, and her imagination ran wild, convinced that some unspeakable horror was lurking just around every corner.

She didn’t reach for his hand, but she walked so close to Damon that they were practically joined at the hip, using his presence as a shield against the lingering chills.

It wasn’t until they reached the sun–drenched plaza that she finally allowed herself a deep, grounding breath. She glanced sideways at Damon and saw the faint, satisfied smirk playing on his lips, his eyes bright with a good mood.

‘So, what did you think? Was it good?” Aubrey asked, her voice still a bit shaky.

Damon reached out and pulled open the passenger door for her. “I thought it was great,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing.“Definitely a thrill.”

Aubrey let out a soft huff and bit her lip, a faint, weary smile playing on her face as she climbed into the passenger seat. Damon shut the door behind her with a firm, protective click.

As she buckled her seatbelt, she couldn’t help but cast a wary glance around the footwell and into the shadows of the backseat. She was half–convinced ome grotesque, unnatural creature from the film was going to crawl out of a dark corner, her heart still hammering against her ribs.

Damon slid behind the wheel, shifted into gear, and began the drive home.

Neither of them brought up the movie again. It had been far too unsettling to dwell on–the kind of visceral horror that wasn’t worth revisiting.

Aubrey pulled out her phone and opened the social media app. Since losing her memory, she had become obsessed with scrolling through her feed. It vas her way of piecing together the lives of people she was supposed to know, a silent effort to bridge the gap and avoid the crushing awkwardness of neeting “old friends” who felt like total strangers.

1 post from Sierra caught her eye.

Herra was holding a “Sales Representative of the Year” trophy, looking absolutely radiant in the photo. Her smile was blinding, and there was a outhful, liberated glow about her–as if shedding her marriage had somehow turned back the clock.

Aubrey tapped the heart icon, genuinely happy for her.

The next post was from Brendan Hayes: a grainy screenshot of a “Victory” screen from an online game

The tapped on Brendan’s profile. It was a digital wasteland of gaming achievements and nothing else. There wasn’t a single mention of his wife or his hildren–no family photos, no domestic updates, just endless virtual combat

She knew this man was her brother, and she knew he had a family depending on him, but it was clear he was hopelessly addicted to the screen. And udging by the stats in his screenshots, he wasn’t even particularly good at the games he spent all his time playing.

she exited the screen and scrolled down, eventually coming across a post Damon had shared just moments ago.

Her thumb hesitated for a fraction of a second before she tapped on it to take a closer look.

The image was dim, a still from a horror movie. His caption read: Watching this with the person I love. It’s not scary at all–it’s actually a special kind of

›liss.

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Intrigued, she clicked on Damon’s profile and began scrolling through his past posts.

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She realized his feed was never about work; it was a gallery dedicated entirely to her. It was filled with candids he’d taken–nothing professional, but he had a way of capturing her every mood, making her look breathtaking in every single shot.

October 20th: The pears are ripe. Missing home. Missing you.

September 12th: Stuck at work when I should be at the hospital with you. When can you finally come home?

September 8th: You’re out of surgery. You’ve forgotten me again, but at least the episodes have stopped for a while. I’ll take what I can get.

August 16th: Stay strong, Aubrey. We have a lifetime ahead of us, and we’re going to walk it hand–in–hand.

August 9th: The fact that I’m not your husband yet is a nightmare. Having to track down your brother just to get a signature for your surgery… it’s

gonizing.

Aubrey kept scrolling, watching a timeline of his thoughts unfold. He’d check in every so often to record his moods–some cryptic and buried in netaphors, others raw and painfully direct. But every single one of them was about her.

After the baby was gone, he’d written: You aren’t alone. You still have me. I’m right here by your side, always.

When she was in a coma after the car accident, he had written: No matter how long you’re under, I’ll wait for you to wake up. But could you give me a ign? Just a date to hold onto?

rom a beach camping trip, he wrote: Just like this. Let’s keep holding hands until the very end.

rom a night watching fireworks: You outshine the displays in the sky.

There were countless other entries–snapshots of dinners together, sunsets they’d shared, quiet walks, and even photos of their shadows stretched out in the pavement, side by side.

very single post was drenched in a profound, heavy love. His tone shifted from heartbreakingly raw to blissful, but beneath it all was a constant, ching sense of hope.

fis social media feed was his private journal.

The earliest post featured a photo from the day of a typhoon. Murky water had submerged the main road of the complex, and massive trees had been prooted, leaving the area in shambles.

le had written: I can’t forget. I’m still so deeply in love.

lubrey Hayes had no memory of any of these moments. She couldn’t piece together the timeline or what had actually happened between them during hose days.

he found herself wondering how he had the courage to share such intimate, soul–baring thoughts where everyone could see them.

he exited his profile and pulled up a WhatsApp chat with Tracy.

Tracy, can you see your brother’s posts on his feed?]

Tracy replied almost instantly [See what? Damon never posts anything. He doesn’t even use that feature. Why?]

Lubrey stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She bit her lip, a soft, shaky sigh escaping her as she typed back [It’s nothing. Thanks anyway]

The tilted her head, her gaze drifting, over to Damon. She watched him, her eyes searching his face with a new found, complicated intensity

Vere his posts visible only to her?

Damon caught her gaze out of the corner of his eye and turned to meet it “Something on your mind?”

Aubrey pulled her gaze away, staring out at the road ahead. A strange, inexplicable confusion gnawed at het. “Are there a lot of women in your

contacts?”

‘Not many. Aside from family, just a few female colleagues from work”

‘What about old classmates? Friends?”

The classmates are in group chats, same with the friends. Unless there’s a reason, we don’t really talk.” As he spoke, Damon pulled out his phone and held it out to her.“You’re welcome to check.”

Aubrey took the phone from him, but immediately set it down in the center console. “I didn’t mean I wanted to snoop”

“But

you can.” He actually wanted her to. To him, a healthy dose of possessiveness was a sign of caring. He had always been an open book with her, so

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he saw no reason why she shouldn’t have full access to his life.

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Meres

“I’m just curious why you keep your social media private, yet you post so often–and only for my eyes.” Aubrey offered a faint, questioning smile.“Are you afraid of other women seeing what you post?”

Damon finally understood the root of her question and let out a soft, low chuckle.“Social media is just an outlet for me to vent sometimes. It’s not for the public eye. I don’t have any secrets from you, Aubrey. Outside of myself, you’re the only person allowed into my private world.”

In that moment, a sudden, inexplicable thrill rushed through her, like a finger gently plucking a string deep within her heart. It sent ripples across the stillness of her soul, the echoes vibrating long after he finished speaking.

The more she found herself falling for him, the more a sense of panic began to claw at her.

He had the looks–rugged, devastatingly handsome, with a tall, powerful build that commanded attention.

He had the wealth–a rock–solid career, the cars, the real estate, and a portfolio that spoke of serious financial savvy.

And then there was the status. He came from the Blackwoods, a family of old money and deep–rooted influence.

He was principled and gentle, but more importantly, he made her feel cherished and respected in every little thing he did. No wonder Tracy was so certain Aubrey would end up falling for him all over again.

Honestly, who wouldn’t lose themselves to a man like him after spending so much time together?

But the reality check hit hard. She’d be thirty next year. How much more of her life could she afford to gamble?

Hearts were fickle, the most unpredictable things in the world. She refused to find herself discarded once her youth had faded, left with nothing but a bitter old age–no children, no home, and a heart in tatters.

Hope and her mother move in with the Kingsley’s after her mother’s divorce. She hopes that in time her new family will accept her. She is quiet and timid all the qualities that Joshua hates he teases an instant disliking to her and makes a plan to make h…

My stepbrother, my bully

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