Novel-novel oleh Ms. Anonymous

When I first moved into Tessa's apartment, two thoughts hit me. One: Tessa was just as high maintenance as she'd been in college. Everything in her place screamed luxury. High-end furniture, designer décor, the kind of perfectly curated space that made you wonder if people actually lived there. I was happy she had a job that let her maintain the lifestyle. Two: Tessa's apartment was the most comfortable place in the world to feel like shit. Even though she had decorated a guest room just for me, I spent most of my worst nights on her couch, wrapped in an overpriced throw blanket, drinking wine straight from the bottle. And now, as I stare at the notification on my phone, I know exactly what I need to do. I walk into Tessa's kitchen, grab a bottle of red wine, some expensive brand I don't recognize, and collapse onto her couch. Popping the cork, I take a long gulp before daring to look at my phone again. For months, I wanted this. I prayed for him to reach out. Now, it's the last

When I first moved into Tessa's apartment, two thoughts hit me. One: Tessa was just as high maintenance as she'd been in college. Everything in her place screamed luxury. High-end furniture, designer décor, the kind of perfectly curated space that made you wonder if people actually lived there. I was happy she had a job that let her maintain the lifestyle. Two: Tessa's apartment was the most comfortable place in the world to feel like shit. Even though she had decorated a guest room just for me, I spent most of my worst nights on her couch, wrapped in an overpriced throw blanket, drinking wine straight from the bottle. And now, as I stare at the notification on my phone, I know exactly what I need to do. I walk into Tessa's kitchen, grab a bottle of red wine, some expensive brand I don't recognize, and collapse onto her couch. Popping the cork, I take a long gulp before daring to look at my phone again. For months, I wanted this. I prayed for him to reach out. Now, it's the last

I hum softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Hello to you too. You can sit down while I make the coffee. A flat white with cinnamon on top, right?" She grins. "I love you, you know me so well." She groans and slumps into a chair, resting her arm on the table and propping her head up with her hand. I start making our coffees but glance at the clock with a frown. "It's just 10 AM, Tess. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" She sighs loudly. "Yes, I should. But I'm burnt out. Had to get off early." I raise an eyebrow as I begin kneading dough. Rush hour hits by noon, and I need to work quickly. "Work emergency?" "When is it ever anything else? It's not even counted as an emergency today. Usually, the whole team gives me problems, but this time, it's just one person!" Here we go again. "His name's... Leon, right?" I ask, trying to remember. She raises an eyebrow at me. "Good try, but you should know better. I've complained about him so much, he should be a house

It's been six months since Zane left me. At first, I didn't take it well. He kicked me out, and I had nowhere to go until Tessa, my best friend, booked me the first flight to NYC and forced me to stay with her. I spent nights crashing on her couch, crying in the bathroom when she was at work. I ignored the little bakery - Tessa and I named it The Whimsy Bakehouse after getting smashingly drunk one night in college and having what she called a crazy epiphany - Zane had opened for me after he got his first NHL paycheck for weeks. I couldn't bring myself to step inside. Then Tessa got fed up. She called me a couch potato, said I was wasting my tears on an 'asshole jerk,' and dragged me back to work. Unlearning ten years of habits hasn't been easy. Some nights, I still catch myself staring at my phone, waiting for a message that will never come. Waiting for Zane to say he made a mistake. That he wants me back. But he never does. Not even in my dreams. It's Friday and I'm at the ba

I devoted ten years of my life to the only man I've ever loved, my ex-fiancé, Zane Whitmoore. Since our eighth grade in middle school, I was always by his side. I shaped myself into the perfect woman for him. I kept my black curls cut short, just the way he liked. I never wore makeup. I dressed in outfits he approved of because he didn't like when other men looked at me. For ten years, I did everything he wanted. I was going to be his wife. Everyone knew we were meant to be. So it made no sense when, six months ago, he threw it all away. "What did you say?" My voice was barely above a whisper. Zane stared at me across the restaurant table, his expression unreadable. I had made this reservation months ago for our ten-year anniversary. "I think we should break up," he said. I blinked. My heart pounded in my chest. "Zane, is this supposed to be a joke? Because it's not funny, babe." "I'm not joking, Emilia." "No, you have to be joking!" My voice rose slightly, and I glanced aro