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He didn’t respond. Then, footsteps. Slow, deliberate. He moved closer, and my breath hitched in my throat even though I tried not to let it show. I turned my face slightly toward where I thought he was standing, listening for the soft rustle of his suit, the shift in the air. I didn't need my eyes to feel the gravity of him near me. "You wore a mask, every single day. Lied, to our faces... and you say it was for our own good. You are no better than the bastard I had for a father." His voice was closer now, a whisper laced with venom. "But I am not him." "Perhaps you are even worse. He at least didn't pretend to love us, at least not in the end." Christian says, anger blooming inside of him. "I love you, Christian. More than I ever thought was possible." I say trying to reach him but he pushes back at me, my back against the wall. "Shut up, you lie so well I might believe you for a second." “If I wanted to keep lying, I wouldn’t have told you the truth, I wouldn't still be here
"For how long does one cook bread?" I hear Mira talk as she types into her phone. Every time one of her dates goes badly she comes home and tries to cook something out of the little things we have left in our fridge. Tonight it just so happened that we were out of bread."I think the word you are looking for is bake, not cook," I say as I lean over the couch, stretching my legs in the process as I remove the overheated laptop from my lap."That makes more sense," Mira says as she turns to our oven. "Bake at 375° until loaf is golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped or has reached an internal temperature of 200°... since when did the internet become so useless? Sounds hollow? How does hollow look like in minutes?" Mira asks as she turns the dial on the oven with frustration I get up and take the phone out of her hand."Half an hour to forty-five minutes... see, the small letters," I say as I tap her shoulder. "Relax Mira, it was just a bad date. You shouldn't get all worked up over
I stood underneath my shower letting the hot water fall down my body as my tears mixed with it. I often cried like this, in hiding then blaming the red eyes on the peppermint shampoo.The interview I had today... I totally ruined it... or the interview ruined me, one of those statements was true I was just trying to figure out which one of them made me feel better.What if this meant we were gonna lose the apartment?What if this meant I would need to move back home?No, absolutely not. That is a kind of low I do not want to sink down to.And Mira? I can't believe I let her down after everything she has done for me. It just feels like all of my luck has run out and no matter what I do I can't catch a break.This job would have been perfect, right up my alley. A chance in the jewelry design world but according to them I lack vision... everything I want to say has already been said.I can already hear my father..."I told you to study something useful that would bring bread to your table
"Love, come on cheer up. You'll find something soon." Our friend Tamara yelled into my ear through the loud music while Mira went to get us something to drink. It's safe to say that this party wasn't enough to bring my mood up and the flashing lights were starting to give me a headache."What worries me the most is the fact Mira would end up on the street because of me and she still has a lot of student debt to pay off, we were barely making ends meet as is." I say back with a level of devastation that eats at me. I was definitely not the light of the party."Not everything is lost, you can always strip," Leon says. Now we have known Leon for quite some time, and despite being almost twenty-eight he behaved like a hormonal eight-year-old boy."Stop it," Tamara says as she pulls back her red wig."Stop what?" Mira asks as she brings back the drinks."Nothing, Leon just told Love she could strip for a living." To which Mira smacks him on the back of his head."Idiot." She says as he rub
"Are you alright?" His voice was so effortlessly seductive, or maybe that's just inside my head as I bit back on my lower lip until I was able to snap out of it. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you." He says as he takes the cane and puts it in my hand in a way that he first takes my hand and wraps my fingers around it while I try not to melt underneath his touch."I'm ok," I say as he helps me to my feet."I tried caching him but he got away." He says as he looks behind him and then back at me."It's alright, the bag didn't have anything important anyway," I say while unable to take my eyes off of him. "I shouldn't have even fought for it.""Well, you probably shouldn't be out alone, especially on a night like this one. It's not safe for anyone, let alone someone in your condition." My condition? What? Stupid?"What makes you say that?" I ask him."I'm sorry I didn't mean anything about it... it's just, well, you know... I thought I saw you, um, struggling a bit back there. With t
"I can't do this," I say as I stare at a guideline that Mira quickly prepared for me along with some psychology books on how to approach a person with disabilities. It's not the help part I was worried about, it was the lying aspect of it. Mira told me about how a blind person gets by in life, and how one recognizes space. Frequent movements include body rocking, repetitive handling of objects, and hand and finger movements all that seemed easy, but it felt like that because I wasn't in those shoes."Love, you can do this. That man needs help and you need the job. Both of us need you to get the job." Mira says as she hands me the cane.I take the cane from Mira, my fingers trembling slightly as I feel the smooth, cold metal in my hand. It’s heavier than I expected, but I know this is the first step in the lie I’m about to step into. It all feels wrong, a twisted game I’m not sure I’m prepared to play. And Christian... what about the instant attraction I felt for him? The kind of attra
The knock echoes softly through the hallway, Christian’s hand hovers over the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn it right away. After a long pause, he sighs and pushes the door open.“Sebastian,” Christian calls out softly, his voice laced with a tenderness I hadn't expected. “I brought someone to meet you.”The room is dark. The heavy curtains are drawn tight, blocking out any light, and the air feels thick with stillness. I can make out a faint outline of a person sitting in the corner chair. It felt sad.“Who is it now?” The tone is sharp, but there’s a vulnerability that cuts through. “Another one of your... helpers?” Sebastian shifts in his chair as Christia“She’s not here to help. Not in the way you think. She’s just here to... meet you.”I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, keeping my voice steady and gentle. "
The door shuts behind us with a soft finality, and I allow myself a breath, one I hadn’t realized I’d been holding."Thank you so much for doing this," Christian says as we take a few steps away from the door. "I dont know how you did it, but I know you got through to him... something not even his family was able to do." I think that is exactly why they weren't able to get to him in a different way. Family can be smothering, and not always in a good way. "You dont need to thank me, after all, you hired me to help him and that is exactly what I will do in the best way I can," I reply, trying to keep my voice light, but inside, the weight of the moment sits heavy."And I want to take this opportunity to allow you to do whatever you find best, whatever means you find necessary to get through his stubbornness because trust me Sebastian Callahan is one stubborn individual.""Callahan?" I ask."Right, forgive me I dont think I ever formally introduced myself. I'm Christian Callahan." He say
He didn’t respond. Then, footsteps. Slow, deliberate. He moved closer, and my breath hitched in my throat even though I tried not to let it show. I turned my face slightly toward where I thought he was standing, listening for the soft rustle of his suit, the shift in the air. I didn't need my eyes to feel the gravity of him near me. "You wore a mask, every single day. Lied, to our faces... and you say it was for our own good. You are no better than the bastard I had for a father." His voice was closer now, a whisper laced with venom. "But I am not him." "Perhaps you are even worse. He at least didn't pretend to love us, at least not in the end." Christian says, anger blooming inside of him. "I love you, Christian. More than I ever thought was possible." I say trying to reach him but he pushes back at me, my back against the wall. "Shut up, you lie so well I might believe you for a second." “If I wanted to keep lying, I wouldn’t have told you the truth, I wouldn't still be here
Four weeks later...The last night in the dark...I am on the edge.I can't take this darkness anymore. I keep telling myself it's soon going to be over, that at least I will be able to act freely, even walk into the world alone free of pretenses. I want my parents to see that the lie is over, and I want Bash to get over everything soon, even if that means that whatever this is I have with Christian comes to an end.We have been living in this penthouse for three weeks now, and every second for me has been hell. His indifference at times is worse than his hate, at least hating me meant he still had me somewhere in his soul, in silence alongside this darkness that was eating at me.If it weren't for Mira I would be completely alone, she is the only good thing here. She told me to take off the bandages while Christian was at work but I just couldn't. He was far too unpredictable, popping in and out at different times as if trying to surprise me by doing something wrong and I didn't feel
Hearing the voices of people I love around me made me feel peace, so much so that I never wanted them to leave. In front of them, Christian was the man, the husband I always thought he would be. He was loving, kind, and caring. I never wanted it to end.But all that is good has its end, so did this.My friends were about to leave, at least Grace and Bash would be around. At least not until Christian makes us move again.Tamara and Bash were aside, talking. It is nice to hear that the friendship between them is blooming, hopefully into something bigger and better. Grace pulled Christian away to the office for a moment leaving me alone with Mira."Love, call me crazy but something here doesn't feel right. Are you sure you are as happy as you say you are?" I knew she would sense something, and despite promising Christian I would say anything I needed to let go with someone, and who better than Mira? I need someone on my side, someone to stand in my corner... make me feel less alone."Mira
"People are still talking about the wedding. It's the talk of every event since." Grace says as we sit at the table. Christian is right next to me, holding my hand, his thumb tracing the side of my knuckle. It feels nice. Too nice. "And no one thinks you are pregnant anymore, so now they believe it's true love." Bash comments. "Good, because it is. As true as it gets," Christian says as he kisses my cheek. I smile. It is so hard to be in this darkness. The voices around me keep surprising me. Every movement strikes a nerve within me, and I have to pretend to be relaxed. "Why didn't you tell us about doing the surgery?" Bash asks. "We wanted you to see firsthand that the surgery you will go under would work because she will be taking off the bandages just before you go under. That will give you all the training you need to go there without a doubt in your mind that this will work." Christian’s words are calm like he’s presenting a plan instead of revealing something deeply personal.
Love's POVI think I understand Bash now better than ever. Being trapped in the dark was horrible. No wonder he felt the way he did. Even when I knew well that this would last only four weeks, walking around with my eyes bandaged up was hard. even harder than I imagined it would be.But one thing was good... as long as I couldn't see I wouldn't have to look at the hatred that grew inside Christian's eyes. This situation goes from bad to worse. The silence between us felt like it was splitting me in two. I could feel Christian beside me, his presence so tense, so tightly wound. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. I could feel the sharp edge of his anger cutting through the air between us. The hatred I’d seen in his eyes before, that dark, simmering look, now felt like a constant companion. He didn’t even have to say anything. I could feel it in the way he handled me, the way he spoke, the way he didn’t speak.But I liked the fact we were back home. Perhaps that way I won't fe
"How long is this going to take? We have a plane to catch." That's not true. It's not like my private plane would go somewhere without me, but I wanted out of this doctor's office as soon as possible."I thought you were returning in a month. If it's supposed we just did the surgery she wouldn't be recovered by now. The world won't believe it." The good doctor says as Love glances up at me."Plans change. Tell her what to do to fake it, she's good at that." I was on edge. Playing nice was so hard and I needed all the willpower I had to do this charade infront of my family, not him."We would need to bandage her eyes... keep her like that for about three to four weeks. And even after that she would need to use sunglasses outside for a period of time... pretend to adjust." Somehow that sounded perfect in my head. She would, even for a short four weeks be forced to walk around blind. She would get to taste her lie on her own skin. "She can do it," I say as I glance at her. "In fact, wrap
Christian's POV I hate her. But somehow I hate myself more for still loving her. I hate how I still want her, and I hate even more the thought of another man having her. The image of the doctor's hand on her filled my chest with rage. She was mine. In every way possible, she was mine. Mine to torture, mine to punish, mine to hate. I wanted to break her. I wanted to watch her unravel beneath me until she knew, without a doubt, who she belonged to. My own torment, my own suffering, would be her punishment. But would it be enough? Would it ever be enough? I have never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her, but with every passing day, the love I thought I had for her had twisted into something darker. The same shade of dark I once felt for my lying father. He was the first and only lesson I need to understand how much a lie can destroy a life. He lied to my mother, he betrayed another woman. He would lie and leave us, his family, to be with someone else. A woman who probably just wa
I didn’t know how I felt anymore. I still loved him, but a part of me was starting to fear him. The love that once felt so pure, so effortless, was now tangled in a web of control and lies. Every interaction, every word exchanged between us, left me more uncertain. The warmth I once felt in his touch had turned into something that made my bones feel frozen.I wanted to reach out, to say something that would make him hear me, make him understand the pain that I was going through. But every time I opened my mouth, the words felt wrong, twisted by the fear of saying the wrong thing, of pushing him further away. Every time I tried to speak, I felt like I was walking on a tightrope, the fear of falling into his wrath too great.After spending a week and a half not leaving the villa, he finally decided to leave. Here he would just casually reach for my hand as we walked but he did not talk much. At a spot with a beautiful view, he asked a stranger to take a photo of us, and he hugged and eve
Christian kept his word. To the outside world, we were this perfect, happy newlywed couple. So in love, so eager to start our honeymoon. But behind the facade, everything was different. Every touch, every word, every look felt hollow. His arms around me were nothing more than a carefully constructed performance, a show for the people around us. As we walked through the airport, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the eyes on us. The casual paparazzi snapped their pictures, capturing our smiles, our closeness, and the image of a perfect couple. But it was all just that, a picture. A snapshot of a life that didn’t belong to us.Christian kept his distance from the photographers, his presence almost protective. He would always make sure no one got too close, his hand gripping my arm just a little tighter whenever the flashes started. In that moment, I felt both protected and imprisoned, wrapped in a cocoon of control that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with appearanc