The Wife He Never Meant to Love (Lila and Damon) novel Chapter 202

Chapter 202

Chapter 202

Lila had not been herself since that morning.

Ever since Damian told her about his dream-about Damon drowning-it had clung to her thoughts like a shadow she couldn’t shake. The unease settled deep in her chest, gnawing at her all day. It followed her behind the counter, into every motion, every breath.

She tried to focus on work.

But her hands betrayed her.

Orders blurred together. A latte went to the wrong table. A cappuccino was missing sugar. Twice, she caught herself staring blankly at the coffee machine, her mind drifting far away from the café and into dark, restless thoughts.

“Miss Lila…” Tina’s voice broke gently through the haze.

Lila blinked, startled. “Hm?”

“I think you should take a rest,” Tina said softly, her brows drawn with concern. “You’ve been making mistakes.”

Lila hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah… okay. Thank you.”

• She removed her apron and slipped quietly into the stock room. The noise of the café faded the moment the door closed behind her, leaving only silence.

She sat in the corner, pulling her knees close, wrapping her arms around them as if trying to hold herself together. The image wouldn’t leave her-the water, the fear, Damon disappearing beneath it.

Her chest tightened.

An hour later, Mark arrived.

He immediately noticed something was off.

Lila wasn’t at the counter.

Without a word, he stepped in to help Tina, taking orders and serving customers until the rush finally slowed.

“Where’s Lila?” he asked, glancing toward the back.

“She’s in the stock room,” Tina replied, her voice laced with worry. “You should talk to her.”

Mark nodded.

He walked to the back and opened the door quietly.

There she was-curled into herself in the corner, her head buried against her knees.

He sighed softly before stepping closer.

“Hey… that’s a bad posture,” he said, his tone light, as his large palm rested gently against her back.

Lila lifted her head.

Mark’s expression immediately shifted into a frown.

She had been crying.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softer now.

Lila’s lips trembled slightly. “Damon… is he okay?”

Mark paused.

A flicker of pity crossed his face.

Even after everything-after Damon hadn’t come to see them, hadn’t checked in-Lila still worried about him. Still cared. Still cried for him.

“Yeah,” Mark said gently. “I think so.”

He crouched beside her.

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“He’s been sending people to protect you, actually,” he added, choosing his words carefully. “So… if he’s watching over you, that means he’s okay.”

Lila listened quietly.

Then she nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Mark shook his head slightly and stayed beside her, his presence steady and warm, saying nothing more.

He didn’t need to.

He simply stayed-until her breathing slowed, until the weight on her chest eased, even just a little.

Even at home, the uneasiness refused to leave Lila.

It lingered in the quiet spaces between moments-settling into her thoughts, pulling her away from the present again and again.

“Mom?”

Damian’s voice reached her, distant at first.

“Mom,” he called again.

Lila blinked, snapping back. “Sorry-what was that, sweetheart?”

Damian held up a sheet of paper. “My assignment is a family tree… should I put Dad’s picture?”

For a brief second, Lila froze.

Then she forced a gentle smile. “Yes, of course, sweetheart.”

Damian studied her face, his small brows knitting together. “Mom… are you okay?”

A silence stretched between them.

Across the room, Mark and Ina paused, watching quietly before exchanging a glance.

“I’m just tired,” Lila said softly. “But you can put your dad’s face on the family tree. I’ll help you after dinner, okay?”

“Okay,” Damian replied, though his voice carried a hint of uncertainty.

After dinner, Lila sat in front of the computer, the soft hum filling the room as the printer slowly brought images to life.

Damon’s face appeared on paper.

One after another.

Lila stared at them, unmoving.

Her fingers rested lightly on the photograph, but her eyes were distant-lost somewhere far beyond the walls of the house.

Ina noticed.

She had been watching for a while now-the way Lila would drift, how her gaze would empty as if she were chasing something she couldn’t quite reach.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence said enough.

Later, Lila and Damian finished the family tree together.

She helped him cut and arrange the photos, guiding his small hands with quiet patience. When they were done,

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she led him to the bathroom, helped him wash up, and tucked him gently into bed.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered, brushing his hair back.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

She stayed until his breathing softened, until sleep finally claimed him.

Then, carefully, she slipped out of the room.

Downstairs, the house was dim and still.

Ina sat at the dining table.

Lila approached quietly and took a seat. Without a word, Ina placed a warm cup of tea in front of her.

Lila wrapped her hands around it, welcoming the heat.

A moment later, Mark came down and sat across from her.

The three of them sat in silence for a while.

Then Mark spoke.

“Do you want to see Damon?”

Lila looked up at him.

A soft, almost bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“He doesn’t even bother to seek me,” she said. There was no anger in her voice-only sadness, deep and unguarded.

Ina leaned forward slightly. “Lila… it takes two people to make a relationship work. What if he’s also waiting for you to seek him first?”

Lila’s grip tightened slightly around her cup.

“And what if he doesn’t want to see me?” she asked quietly.

Silence fell again.

Heavy. Unavoidable.

“But, Lila…” Mark said gently, “you never once sought him first. It was always Damon who stepped forward for you-again and again.”

Lila let out a small laugh, but it held no humor.

When was the last time she had the courage to run toward Damon?

When?

The question echoed in her mind, unanswered.

And then it hit her.

It had always been Damon.

He was always the one who reached out first.

Even in the smallest ways-the ones she barely noticed, the ones she had taken for granted.

From the very beginning…

He was the one who had the courage.

The first time they met-he was the one who asked her out.

And she rejected him.

Again.

And again.

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And again.

Yet Damon never truly left.

He kept appearing in her life, over and over, as if fate itself kept pulling him back to her.

His presence lingered-steady, persistent.

Even in those “accidental” encounters that never quite made sense.

Now, sitting in the quiet of the dimly lit room, Lila realized something she had never allowed herself to see before.

Damon had always been reaching for her.

The question was-

Had she ever reached back?

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