The first date
Eva stood by the window, watching the gentle drizzle turn the garden into a watercolor painting.
One year. One whole year of marriage with Damien. It was quiet, distant… Not cold—but not close either. Like two well-mannered strangers sharing a life.
The house was still. The clock ticked louder than usual. She hadn't expected much today—maybe a dry "Happy Anniversary" if Damien remembered. Maybe.
She stirred her coffee absentmindedly when the door creaked open.
"Eva?"
She turned. Damien stood by the door, hair damp from the rain, shirt sleeves rolled, holding something behind his back.
He stepped forward. Stood front of her.
"Will you be my date tonight?"
Eva blinked. "What?"
Damien pulled out a single white lily—her favorite. He must've remembered. Or noticed. Either way, her chest tightened.
"I know we've... existed more than lived this year," he said softly, "But if you'll allow me... I'd like to start over. Not as husband and wife forced by families. But as Eva and Damien. As two people who could choose each other. Tonight, at least."
Eva couldn't speak. A year's worth of silences, missed eye contacts, polite dinners—all of it floated between them like invisible fog.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
"You'll have to pick me up properly, you know. Like real dates. Knock on my door and everything."
Yash chuckled, nodding. "Of course. 7 p.m. Be ready."
He left the room like a schoolboy with butterflies, and Eva stood still, the lily in her hand trembling just a little.
She pressed it to her nose, eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in 365 days, her heart skipped—not out of anxiety. But hope.
Maybe, this marriage wasn't a mistake.
Eva stood in front of the mirror, heart thudding like it was her first teenage date.
Her dress was a soft lavender, hair pinned delicately with tiny jasmine buds— Damien didn't know it yet, but that was her lucky color.
The clock struck 7:00.
Knock knock.
She froze. Then smiled.
Opening the door slowly, she found Damien standing there—dressed in a crisp black shirt, holding an umbrella in one hand and... a milk chocolate bar in the other.
He looked at her and blinked. "Wow."
"That bad?" she teased.
"That's dangerous," he smiled.
He offered his arm, and she took it without hesitation. As they stepped outside, thunder rolled in the distance, and the drizzle had grown into a playful rain. Damien opened the umbrella but paused.
"Change of plan," he said.
"What plan?"
"No restaurant."
Her brow furrowed. "Then where?"
"You'll see."
They walked down the street, under the shared umbrella, the rain pattering like applause around them. The world smelled of wet earth, and for the first time in ages, Eva felt… alive.
Damien stopped near a cozy roadside cafe. The owner grinned.
"Your table's ready, sir," the barista said with a friendly smile.
Damien led Eva to a cozy corner by the window. A small round table waited for them, lit by the warm glow of a candle. Two steaming cups of coffee sat beside a vanilla cupcake topped with a single flickering candle.
Eva laughed softly. "You remembered I prefer cozy cafés over fancy restaurants."
Damien smiled. "I've been paying attention.”
She lit the candle on the cupcake. "Make a wish?"
Damien looked at her, eyes sincere. "I already got it."
Her heart fluttered like the first time she wrote his name in her diary.
No labels. No pressure. Just two people, laughing in the rain, sipping chai, falling into something dangerously close to love.
As lightning lit up the sky, Eva whispered, "So… this is our first date?"
Damien leaned closer, brushing a raindrop off her cheek.
"No, Miss Eva This is just the beginning.”
By the time they reached home, both were half-soaked—laughing, out of breath, hearts warm.
Eva wrapped a towel around her hair and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Damien had made instant noodles.
They sat cross-legged on the floor with two bowls between them.
"I haven't laughed like that in… forever," Eva said between bites.
Damien smiled, slurping his noodles. "I haven't seen you laugh like that. It suits you."
Her cheeks become red. She looked away.
Then softly, "Damien… can I ask something?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you ever want this marriage?"
Silence.
The rain tapped gently against the windows.
Damien placed his bowl down. "Truth?"
"Actually.."
He looked straight at her.
"No. I didn't want to marry someone I didn't know. But… I never hated the idea of you."
Eva blinked.
"I didn't either," she whispered. "But I was scared. We were like… roommates with rings."
He chuckled. "You used to sleep with your back turned every night."
"You used to turn off the lights even when I was still brushing," she smirked.
They both laughed again.
Silence returned—but not awkward..
Damien's voice softened. "I used to peek through the door when you talked to your plants. You looked happiest then."
Eva raised a brow. "Stalker."
"Plant-lover."
She rolled her eyes, grinning.
Then suddenly, a power cut.
The room dimmed, the only light now from the gray-blue moonlight outside.
"Classic romantic power cut." Eva said.
Damien pulled out his phone flashlight and set it on the table. A soft white glow washed over them.
Damien reached out—gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Eva's breath caught.
His fingers lingered. "Can I tell you something weird?"
She nodded.
"I think I'm falling for you..."
Eva's throat dried up.
She leaned in, inches from him, heart thudding like rain on tin.
"I think I want you to."
Their lips met—soft, and a little awkward.
Outside, the rain poured.
Inside, something bloomed.
Morning came in golden streaks of sunlight filtering through half-closed curtains. The rain had finally stopped, but the magic? Still lingering.
Eva woke up to the smell of coffee. And... was that bread toast burning?
She wrapped her shawl, padded out of the room—hair messy, cheeks still pink from last night's kiss.
Damien stood in the kitchen, completely focused on the toaster, eyebrows furrowed like a kid solving a nuclear crisis.
"Morning, Chef," she teased.
He turned, slightly startled. "Oh—hey! You weren't supposed to wake up yet."
Eva leaned on the doorframe. "You made coffee?"
"Attempted," he muttered. "Might be legally classified as soup."
She giggled, taking the cup. "Smells... edible."
They both sipped, watching each other from across the counter. And then—
DING-DONG!
The doorbell.
Damien froze. Eva blinked.
"Are you expecting anyone?" she asked.
"Nope."
"Your mom?"
"Sweet gods, I hope not."
Eva scrambled into the bedroom to throw on a decent dress while Damien opened the door halfway.
"DAMIEN…! SURPRISE!!"
