Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 199: Vulnerable Moments...

Chapter 199: Vulnerable Moments...

"Was there ever something between you and Selene?"

He turned his head toward her, and this time, he didn’t look away.

"There was," Damian said quietly.

Evelina didn’t move.

Her face remained unreadable, the barest hint of curiosity in the set of her mouth. But he could feel the weight of her waiting. Expecting something real.

"Not like that," he added quickly. "But yes. People always assumed we’d end up together. She was—well, Selene. Strong. Beautiful. Smart. Commanding. Practically royalty without the bloodline. It made sense on paper. Everyone expected it."

His voice softened, more thoughtful than regretful. "We kissed. Once. Twice, maybe. It was curiosity more than anything. Just... testing the story that everyone else already believed."

Evelina’s eyes narrowed slightly, but not with jealousy—more like she was measuring something. Measuring him.

He went on, letting the words shape themselves. "She was perfect in theory. The kind of woman my father would’ve approved of without blinking. But every time I looked at her, it felt like I was checking a box. And when I kissed her..."

He paused, staring up at the shifting leaves overhead. "It felt like I was living someone else’s life. Acting out their ending."

The silence that followed wasn’t cold—it was pensive.

Evelina turned her head, but not toward him. Her gaze wandered past the trees, past the flickering light and shade, to a place he couldn’t follow.

She didn’t respond.

But something shifted behind her eyes.

Relia stirred in her chest, a low rumble at the edge of thought. "You’re remembering again."

She didn’t deny it.

The memory surfaced unexpectedly, like a scar that has been covered up but never really healed.

Seven years.

That’s how long she and Tobias had built their life together. A shared dorm, a shared lab, a shared dream. They had scribbled their theories on the same walls, fallen asleep at terminals, argued over energy transfer equations until morning.

He had kissed her under blue-tinted lab lights, not moonlight. He’d held her hand with ink-stained fingers.

"I’m going to marry you one day," he had said, once, laughing, after she caught him stealing the last of her nutrient rations. "Just so I have legal rights to half your snacks."

"Greedy bastard," she’d shot back, throwing a datasheet at his head. But she’d laughed too. Because back then, she’d believed it. Believed him.

And then the breakthrough came.

A stabilised serum that targets and eliminates cancerous cells without any adverse effect. A solution no one had come up with. It had been hers—her formulas, her calculations, her sleepless nights.

He had kissed her the night she solved it.

And proposed the next morning.

That should have been the first sign.

She remembered the ring—a repurposed band made from twine from their first project together. She had cried, Gods help her. She said yes, and she wore it with pride.

She hadn’t noticed the backup files missing. Not until she saw the presentation draft on his screen, her formulas stamped with his name.

"Tobias," she’d said, standing in the doorway of their lab. "Where did you get that?"

He hadn’t even flinched. Just minimized the display.

"I worked on it too, Eve."

"You didn’t even touch this," she said slowly. "You said it was a waste of time."

His smile was brittle. "Well, clearly I was wrong."

"That doesn’t give you the right to steal it."

"Oh, steal," he echoed mockingly, rising from the console. "Don’t be dramatic. We’re partners."

"You copied my work."

"Our work," he snapped, his face twisting. "Do you think anyone would’ve taken it seriously if you submitted it alone? You’re the assistant, Evelina. I’m the lead researcher."

Her chest had gone cold. "That’s not true."

He stepped closer. "Isn’t it? Do you think the Board would care whose name was on the top? We’ve both put years into this. I just... finished the race first."

Her voice had been shaking. "If you submit that... I’ll report you."

She never forgot what came next. The way his eyes darkened—not with guilt, but calculation.

Then the slap. Sudden, vicious.

It knocked her back into the workstation. A cup shattered. Her head hit the edge of a table.

And through the ringing in her ears, she heard him whisper—

"You’ll ruin us both if you speak. Think, Eve. Think."

She didn’t remember the rest in full. Just fragments.

Sparks.

Smoke.

The heat of flame as it consumed the lab, her notes, her work—her world.

She remembered crawling, lungs burning.

And then... nothing.

Just the darkness that came before she found herself in Arcadia.

—

Back in the clearing, Damian shifted beside her. The quiet between them had grown thicker and deeper, but it was not uncomfortable.

He thought she was simply reflecting.

And in a way, she was.

But not on him. Not yet.

She tilted her face toward the sunlight, eyes closed, and whispered so low even the wind might not hear: "Never again."

Not trust like that. Not blindness disguised as love. Not betrayal dressed in partnership.

She opened her eyes and looked at Damian beside her.

This was something else. Something uncertain. Maybe dangerous.

But not a lie.

He looked at her with that easy half-smile, wine glass dangling in his fingers.

She gave him a small one back. Just enough.

He didn’t need to know everything.

Not yet.

Relia stirred again, more insistently this time. "How long do you plan to keep this from him?" the familiar voice pressed. "Your true identity. When do you plan on telling him?"

Eve didn’t answer at first. Her eyes remained fixed on the sway of branches above, golden light bleeding through their tips.

"I can’t," she whispered inwardly.

"Why not?"

"Because it’s gonna be a lot to process. Once I tell him, I might lose everything all over again."

Relia exhaled. "But how long will you be able to keep this lie?"

"I’m not lying," Eve countered, though even she wasn’t sure if that was true anymore.

"Then say something. Anything."

Her fingers tightened slightly over the stem of her wine glass, but her face gave nothing away. Damian was still watching her in that steady, patient way, like he was waiting not for answers—but for honesty.

She didn’t look at him when she spoke.

"I had someone too," she said quietly.

Damian didn’t move, didn’t flinch or ask. He just listened. That, more than anything, made her want to keep going. But she didn’t. Not yet.

She swallowed and added, "He proposed."

Her voice stayed calm, but her knuckles whitened ever so slightly against the glass.

"Then he burned my entire world."

Damian didn’t say a word.

He didn’t lean in, didn’t ask for names, didn’t search her face for a story she wasn’t ready to give.

He just reached for her hand, his fingers curling gently around hers.

Eve closed her eyes.