CELINE

CELINE

I watched him slam the door behind him and almost felt the need to rip the handle open again and throw something at him – but I pulled myself together. Instead, I rolled my eyes and collapsed on the bed, letting the whole absurd situation sink in. What the hell am I doing here?

I felt like my brain had just moved out the last few days and left me with this “glorious” idea that it was fantastic to live under the same roof as this self-centered idiot. Congratulations, Celine. I knew he was an asshole – no, worse: I had been warned! I had even received detailed reports about what a thoroughly awful person Damian was. “Not an easy person” was probably the most diplomatic way to describe him. A simple “run away” would probably have been enough. But no, I had to be particularly clever and convince myself that I could handle it all.

Handle it? I gave a dry laugh. The last thing I was doing was handling it. Instead, I was lying here, half hysterical and half furious, wondering if I was still of sane. But what was that saying? Women like a bad boy. Maybe this was punishment for years of telling myself that a guy like Damian was attractive just because he had dark, tousled hair and an action movie body. Great, my inner teenager was probably cheering with delight. My reality? It had a damn bitter aftertaste.

Damian really was everything I hated. Arrogant, selfish, with an ego bigger than this house. It was as if he was surrounded by an aura of pure narcissism. Just his looks were enough to make my skin tingle – not in a good way, but like the feeling you get when you step on a pin. There was nothing likeable about him, no spark of humanity, just those cold, dead eyes that stuck to me as if I were a piece in his dirty little game.

And yes, damn it, he was good-looking. Why did the worst people always have to be the hottest? It would be so much easier if he had a hump or crooked teeth, anything that would remind me that he was as ugly as his personality suggested. But no – Damian had made it his mission to be the perfect embodiment of hot but obnoxious. A nightmare in the most beautiful package. A prime example of why sometimes you should just return a gift you’ve asked for.

I let myself fall onto the bed with an overdramatic sigh, stared at the ceiling and tried to calm my nerves. The thought that I would have to endure this man day after day was almost unbearable. It felt like I had signed a contract with the devil, and the devil was an imaginary pain with disheveled hair and the character of a soaking wet towel.

How could I have been so stupid? Oh, Celine, you and your ideas. A handsome man, and we forget that he’s a pig of a character. Yes, he was my damn type, I had painfully realized that by now. But my type was apparently a curse. After Damian, I had probably ruled out the possibility of ever falling in love with someone at first sight again.

When I closed my eyes to collect myself for a few minutes, I suddenly heard footsteps outside in the hallway, then the soft click of the front door. Damian had left. Finally. A quiet feeling of triumph flowed through me. I took a deep breath and allowed myself a brief smile. Maybe there was a God after all, and he had a spark of compassion left for me.

I stood up with a sense of freedom and crept quietly to the door. At least I now had the opportunity to find something to eat without feeling Damian’s mocking gaze on me. I couldn’t help but think how he would probably make snide comments if he saw me in the kitchen – as if I were here to please him, as if he were the center of the universe and I were just a disturbing satellite.

I descended the stairs slowly and cautiously, as if every creaking step would summon Damian. The darkness of the hallway lay over me like a blanket, but this time it felt soothing – a silence I could enjoy while he was gone. When I arrived in the kitchen, I took a deep breath and let the sight soak in. For a moment, I felt the need to take possession of this room, to free it from its poisoned aura.

But even in this calm, his words still echoed in my head. His arrogance, his disgusting self-confidence. It was as if he had marked me, as if his presence had left an imprint on my mind that I just couldn’t get rid of. But that wasn’t all – no, the worst part was the spark of attraction that had buried itself deep inside me, and the silent confession that a part of me found him fascinating. Celine, you really are a hopeless case, I thought bitterly and shook my head.

I searched the kitchen for something edible and rolled my eyes when I realized that Damian apparently didn’t keep even the most basic provisions here for guests. Of course not. When someone is drowning in their own arrogance like Damian, thinking of the well-being of others would naturally be asking too much. After endless rummaging, I finally found some toast, cheese and a package of ham that had seen better days. Not a five-star menu, but better than nothing. Sighing, I began to toast the slices and slap the sandwiches together, while my thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Damian. I would have liked to throw the bread against the wall, I was so full of frustration and anger. But instead, I slammed the fridge door again, found a half-full bottle of wine to my relief, and decided that I could at least treat myself to a little luxury. Sandwiches and wine. That was the most I could expect here, I thought, and snorted softly as I carried everything into the living room.

The living room. As soon as I entered, I was met by the heavy silence of the room. There was something dark, almost oppressive about it, as if Damian had also implanted his unfriendly soul in this room. The heavy, antique-looking carpet covered the entire floor like a wave of shadow swallowing the room. The walls were painted dark, broken only here and there by dim light seeping through the half-curtained windows.

The old furniture was all in dark colors, sturdy and heavy. Most striking, however, was the large leather couch that stood in the middle of the room and gave the whole a certain power. An antique coffee table made of dark wood stood in front of it, with fine, engraved patterns that could only be seen at the right angle. The furniture seemed to be able to tell stories, old and probably very dark stories that Damian had captured here like ghosts from another time.

I sank down on the couch, which was surprisingly comfortable, albeit a bit old and worn. I took a deep breath and let myself fall into the soft cushions, pulled up my legs and placed the improvised dinner in front of me. A sandwich in one hand, a glass of wine in the other – perfect for a night of soliloquy and despair. I bit into my sandwich and let the taste sink in. In another life, I could have even enjoyed this.

But of course I couldn’t just sit here and eat. No, instead, Damian haunted my thoughts like an unpleasant guest that you can’t get rid of. It was as if he had programmed his self-righteous, disgusting presence into my brain. The wine helped a little, but not enough to silence the inner voice that constantly criticized him.

‘Alone with him in this house,’ I thought bitterly and took a big gulp. The idea of living under the same roof with this narcissistic monster day in, day out, made my shoulders tense up. Why on earth had I agreed to this? Oh yes, because I made one stupid decision after another, that was well known. I seriously wondered how this was going to work out. Damian and I, two people who had as much sympathy for each other as fire and water. The thought made me laugh softly.

Yes, this would be hell on earth. Just the idea of coming across his smug face every morning, that grin that seemed so natural to him, as if the whole world had been waiting for him to grace it. It was enough to drive you crazy. He was the epitome of arrogance, as if he had absorbed the license to self-love with his mother’s milk. Nothing about him was real – just an empty, polished facade that pretended to be attractive, while behind it lurked nothing but emptiness and self-importance.

The couch creaked softly as I leaned back, my glass half empty and my eyes fixed on the flickering darkness outside the window. Damian was roaming around out there somewhere, spreading his unfriendly aura like a dark thunderstorm. And I was stuck here, alone in this old house, which felt like it was casting its darkness over me like a net to bind me to him forever.

In a fit of self-irony, I raised my glass to the air – a lonely, sarcastic “cheers” to my situation. Here I was, alone in a huge house, just a few meters away from a guy who erased everything in me that I valued in people. A toast to my wise decision, which probably won the prize for the worst idea of the year.

But the thought wouldn’t leave me. It was like a thorn that kept piercing deeper and deeper into my consciousness. Damian. Damian and his empty, cold eyes that knew no warmth, only this cutting arrogance that treated everyone around him like an annoying accessory. I could hardly believe that there were people like him – men who thought they were the center of the world to such an extent that everything else became meaningless.

I sighed and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling chandelier, whose dim light bathed the room in a gloomy semi-darkness. This room probably suited him perfectly – dark, overloaded and with a strange hint of decay. Yes, decay seemed to me to be the appropriate word for Damian. There was nothing alive about him, just a kind of putrid aura that crushed all life in its surroundings.

I reached for my second sandwich and bit into it with determination. Maybe this was my destiny – a goddamn lesson so that I would finally stop falling for beautiful faces and muscle-less guys.

With a final sarcastic sigh, I emptied my glass, set it down on the table, and leaned back. Maybe I would survive it somehow, maybe I would learn to ignore him, this empty, cold shadow that had taken up residence in my life like a plague.

But deep down I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.