Something was different about Damian’s beach club tonight. The bass still pounded through the speakers, the neon lights still danced through wisps of smoke and glasses that never stayed empty. But the glittering chaos of it all was merely background.
Adrian Moretti sat across from Damian, looking disheveled. He was half-drunk. His shirt unbuttoned at the top, and sleeves rolled up carelessly. Damian knew, tonight's conversation would be one he couldn't avoid.
“I’ve searched everywhere for her.” Adrian’s voice was hoarse, barely audible over the thrum of music from the dance floor. “I went to her usual hospital, her old apartment, her close friends’ places... even the spots Nayla hated the most. But… nothing.”
Damian said nothing. He leaned back into the sofa, gaze fixed on the man before him with unreadable eyes. His cold fingers curled around a crystal glass of bourbon. The only response was a low deliberate sigh.
“I… failed, Damian,” Adrian continued. “She should’ve felt safe coming back to me. I should’ve been the first to know when she hit rock bottom.”
“She’ll come back when she truly wants to. Maybe… she just needs time alone,” Damian finally replied.
Adrian rubbed his face roughly. A bitter laugh slipped out without meaning to. “I know. She told me the same thing. But I’m scared. I’m scared she’s fallen into the wrong hands. I’m scared she’ll hurt herself. Nayla… she’s not as strong as she pretends to be. I know that better than anyone.”
Damian watched him in silence. His eyes remained dark, like the night sky stretched above the shores of Canggu. The shimmer of moonlight reflecting across the ocean held no allure tonight. Not when Adrian’s soul was crumbling before him.
Adrian dropped his gaze, hands dragging across his face again and again. His breathing grew heavier. There was no masking the weight pressing behind his eyes.
“This world is too cruel for a woman like Nayla,” Adrian whispered.
Damian lifted his glass, let the golden liquid meet his lips, and swallowed slowly. In his mind, he saw Nayla’s face— not as a fragile woman, but as the secret he had to guard... even from his best friend.
“Nayla’s the only reason I’ve kept going since our parents passed. I wake up every day just to make sure she’s alive, that she still smiles… even if the smile is fake. And now? Even the fake one is gone.” He downed the rest of his drink like it was the only thing holding his sorrow down.
“I should’ve never let her marry Nathan,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “I knew something was off about that man from the start. But I was too busy. Too trusting. And now, I don’t even know where my sister is.”
Damian slid his glass across the table. His eyes never leaving Adrian. “Nathan is a bastard. But blaming yourself will only drown you deeper.”
Adrian turned, eyes bloodshot. “Then what do I do, Damian? I don’t even know if she’s alive or dying somewhere out there.”
Damian replied, his voice low but firm. “She’s not dying. Believe me, she’s stronger than you think.”
The words cut both ways— offering solace while stirring suspicion.
Adrian went quiet, studying Damian’s face for a moment before looking away. “If I lose Nayla, I’ll never forgive myself.”
The buzz of his phone vibrated against the table, but Adrian ignored it. Not unless it was Nayla. And especially not if it was some meaningless update from social media. But this time, he had no choice but to glance at the screen, which now showed a trending photo of his former brother-in-law, Nathan.
Midnight had long passed, yet the world refused to sleep. Social media was on fire. Posts, comments, and reposts exploded across the digital void. Photos of Nathan and a famous model were everywhere.
There he was— immaculately dressed, holding hands with a woman outside a five-star hotel. The paparazzi's lens wasn’t the clearest, but everyone knew. That was Nathan. And this wasn’t the first time he’d been caught with another woman.
The news was spreading like wildfire. Headlines screamed louder than the music inside the club. The digital world was ablaze.
“You see this?” Adrian let out a dry laugh. “Even the devil could learn a thing or two from that bastard.”
It wasn’t funny. That laugh was a mask— rage, heartbreak, and helplessness woven into sound.
Damian glanced briefly at the phone screen. His jaw clenched. Even swallowing felt like a task. Still, he remained silent.
“That bastard’s out there having the time of his life while Nayla is who knows where,” Adrian hissed. “And he gets to screw that woman like he never destroyed my sister’s life!”
Damian straightened, shoulders rigid, fists resting hard against his thighs. Still not a word, but his eyes darkened. Dangerously so.
“I want to destroy him, Damian. I swear to God, I want to tear him apart the way he tore Nayla apart!”
“If you act now, he wins,” Damian muttered. His voice was calm but sharp like a freshly whetted blade.
Adrian snapped his head toward him. “And we’re just supposed to watch? Watch that bastard touch another woman while Nayla’s wounds are still bleeding?”
Damian slowly lifted his chin, locking eyes with Adrian. “I never said we’d watch. I said… it’s not time yet.”
Adrian ran his fingers through his hair, like trying to stop the fire rising inside him.
“He put my sister through hell,” he whispered hoarsely.
Damian leaned forward. “Trust me, his time is coming. Nathan will fall harder than he ever thought possible. You have my word.”
Silence fell again. But it wasn’t peace. It was tension, it was a storm held at bay, it was vengeance waiting for its moment to ignite.
Adrian bowed his head, trailing a finger along the condensation clinging to his empty glass. Like he was waiting for karma to finally show up. His voice came next— quiet, but earth-shaking.
“Damian.” He looked up, locking eyes with the man in front of him. “If you were me, wouldn’t you protect Nayla for the rest of your life? Wouldn’t you make sure no one ever hurt her again? Wouldn’t you… never let anyone touch her?”
Damian didn’t speak for a moment. His gaze sharpened. Not at Adrian, but at the thought buried deep in his mind. His eyes narrowed, his tone level when he finally responded.
“Yes. Of course.”
It was a simple answer. But behind it, a storm raged.
Damian still had to hide Nayla within the shadows, because the light had not yet come.
To the world, he remained distant.
To Adrian, he remained loyal friend.
He had to protect her in silence. Without credit. Without glory. In ways that no one would ever understand, not even her.
He had to protect her with teeth bared and fists clenched. Not with promises, but with control. Not with tenderness, but with ruthless devotion.
He had to protect her in his own way. Save her in his own way.
Once more, in his own way.
“I won’t let anyone touch her,” Adrian murmured.
“Neither will I,” Damian echoed. The words barely audible, more a vow to himself than to the man sitting across from him.
Adrian didn’t know. He had no idea that Nayla… was already under the protection of the man before him. That Damian hadn’t just guarded her.
He already had her in his grasp.
Aksara