Rebirth: Love me Again - Chapter 322

Chapter 322: The Art of Love & Rejection
 

[ESTELLE]

“Oh, Kelsey.” I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I would rather die than give up.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. She had expected me to shrink under her words, not stand taller.

“You don’t understand,” I continued, my voice softer now. “The kind of love I feel for Damien? It’s once in a lifetime. So if I were you, I’d stop leading him on and let him go to the one who actually loves him.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving Kelsey standing there, speechless.

I had no time for her warnings, no space in my heart for any doubt. I knew for a fact that if I wanted Damien for myself, I had to push and push and push.

She was just a side character in our love story.

Her words would never hurt me.

Because at the end of the day, I knew one thing for sure—

Damien belonged to me. That was for sure.

The moment the show began, I wasted no time making my move. Spotting the perfect seat beside Damien, I swooped in like a hawk claiming its prey. Unfortunately, a perfectly manicured, elegantly dressed woman had already laid her claim to it.

Not for long.

With the grace of an actress in a tragic love story, I “accidentally” stumbled forward, just enough to jostle her off balance. Not enough to send her flying—just enough to make her shift awkwardly and, in her confusion, lose the coveted seat. Before she even realized what had happened, I had slid in beside Damien, victorious.

The woman glared at me, her perfectly lined lips twisting in annoyance. I flashed her my best innocent smile and turned my back to her completely, dismissing her existence from my world.

Damien, on the other hand, let out a long, suffering sigh.

I beamed at him. “This really is the best seat, huh?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled as if summoning the patience of a saint.

The lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show, but I had my own performance to focus on—Operation Get Closer to Damien.

First, the “Oops, my knee touched yours!” maneuver. I let my knee casually graze his, pretending not to notice. Damien noticed. He immediately shifted his leg away, putting an entire universe between us.

Fine. Time for Phase Two: The Shoulder Lean. I tilted slightly, just enough to brush against his arm as though I was simply adjusting my posture. Damien stiffened. Then, as if personally offended by the laws of physics, he leaned as far away as possible without falling off his chair.

Alright, he was playing hard to get.

Next up? The Whisper Strategy. As the models sashayed down the runway, I leaned in close, letting my breath tickle his ear. “That dress is nice, but don’t you think it would look better on me?”

Damien didn’t even turn his head. “Mhm,” he hummed vaguely, eyes glued to the stage as though he were watching a life-or-death battle instead of a fashion show.

Frustrated but undeterred, I pulled out my ultimate weapon—The Delicate Shiver. With a dramatic sigh, I hugged my arms around myself. “Wow, it’s really cold in here . . .”

Damien, still refusing to meet my gaze, simply shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me without a second thought. Not because he was being romantic—oh no, he was just trying to shut me up.

I accepted the jacket with a smug smile anyway. A win was a win.

And just like that, the show continued. He ignored me. I persisted. The battle for Damien’s attention raged on.

And I wasn’t backing down anytime soon.

Soon, Kelsey walked onto the runway with all the grace of a seasoned model. Even though I didn’t like her one bit, I had to begrudgingly admit—she was a supermodel through and through. The way she carried herself, the effortless elegance in her every step, the way the light caught her features—it was almost unfair.

Almost.

But what really made my stomach twist was Damien’s reaction.

He clapped.

Just once. Then twice. His applause was polite, minimal, but then—then—his expression softened.

I zeroed in on the shift. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, barely there, but it was there.

Why?

It had to be the dress. Yes, that was it. It was the dress, not the person inside it. Kelsey wasn’t special—she was just wearing a particularly good dress.

I mentally took note of the design. I would absolutely be buying that dress later. In fact, I would buy all and maybe it would get to the good graces of my future mother-in-law.

Eventually, all the models finished their walks, and then, as was tradition, the designer made her grand appearance. The lights dimmed, the music shifted, and out stepped the legendary Evangeline Heart Frizkiel.

And wow.

Even in her late fifties, she radiated a presence so powerful that she could outshine the models she had dressed. Her sharp features were nearly flawless, with minimal wrinkles—just enough to add a dignified edge rather than age her. She didn’t walk; she commanded the runway, each step filled with an effortless confidence that told the world she was the queen of this empire.

One look at her, and you knew she wasn’t the kind of woman you wanted to cross. It felt like she could swallow you whole with a single glance and spit you out without bones.

Now that I thought about it . . . Damien didn’t really look like her. Maybe he took after his father. The ever-mysterious father.

I had heard whispers of Eric Frizkiel, Evangeline’s husband. A man so ridiculously handsome that women swooned just hearing his name.

Apparently, he bore a resemblance to Damien but was . . . different. Less intense, more of a charming, good-natured type of guy—the kind you could bring home to your mother and she’d immediately offer him the family heirloom.

Definitely, the genes in this family were something else if all of Evangeline’s children were sought-after bachelors.