Imogene Scott Damien looks away for a second, and in that moment, I know. I already knew the second Elinor told me, but seeing him now, confirming it... it’s like the final nail in the coffin.“It was a mistake,” he says, his voice low. “It was one night. I was drunk—”“Oh, so that makes it better?” I snap. “You think being drunk excuses sleeping with my best friend?”“No, of course not!” he says quickly. “It doesn’t. I messed up, okay? It was the night of Keith’s proposal... I was angry, and I drank too much, and she was there—”I throw up my hands, cutting him off. “I don’t need to hear the details, Damien! I just—God, I can’t believe this.”“Imogene, please,” he steps closer again, his voice softening. “It didn’t mean anything. I was a wreck after you took Keith’s proposal. I thought I’d lost you—”“You did lose me!” I yell, tears now streaming down my face. “And now you’ve ruined any chance of getting me back!”“You don’t understand,” he says desperately. “Elinor... she might b
Damien Shaw"Do you ever for once stop to think that maybe you were such a horrible person in your last life that you’re being deprived of joy in this life?" Breonna’s voice echoes through the quiet of my room, cutting through the dull hum of my laptop screen as she steps into my room. I don’t look up. I’ve been staring at lines of code and business reports for hours, though nothing has really stuck in my head. Work has been the only thing keeping me from spiraling, but even that feels meaningless at this point.I hear her drop something on the dresser—the tray of food she’s been bringing me for days now. She’s always playing the caretaker, even when I don’t deserve it.“You’re not going to eat again, are you?” she sighs, coming closer.I lean back in my chair and finally look at her. Her face is soft but tired, and I know part of that exhaustion is because of me. She’s been staying in my house for the past five days to, quote-unquote, take care of me.“I’m not hungry,” I mumble.“Th
Imogene Scott I rise from my work table, stretching my aching back. My muscles are stiff, protesting every movement after being hunched over for hours—finishing the last touches on my digital mural. The Tech Con is in two days, and it's all I’ve been focusing on. It’s my only distraction from the heavy, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.The apartment is a mess. Clothes are strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers are stacked on the coffee table, and unopened mail is scattered across the kitchen counter. I haven’t left the house in days, haven’t spoken to anyone, haven’t even checked my phone.All I’ve done is work on the mural and now it’s finally done. What other work do I have to focus on that can serve as a good distraction?Chores.I start picking up the trash, throwing away remnants of meals I barely remember eating. I try to focus on the small task in front of me, but my mind keeps drifting back to him. To Damien. Why can’t I stop thinking about hi
Imogene Scott I let Elinor stay with me for the next two days. We don’t say much to each even though we’re in the same house. She’s super quiet and all and it only intensifies my guilt.Tech Con is finally here and after much convincing, Elinor decides to go with me. She’s been going through so much, and I didn’t want her to feel abandoned. After everything that happened at the hospital, I figured the least I could do was show her that she’s still a part of my life, that I’m here for her.That morning, I finally call Breonna over to come babysit Lily since we’ll be gone all day.“Good morning, Imogene.” Breonna says as she walks into my apartment. “How have you been?”I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel after everything her brother did. But then again, Damien and Breonna aren’t related by blood. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t possess Damien’s shitty ass characteristics. “Never been better.” I reiterate.I run a few things by Breonna before Elinor and I start to leave. But Breonna s
Imogene ScottThe room seems to spin around me as her words sink in. Not a real abortion? No pregnancy to begin with. I lean against the door, my breath caught in my throat. I don’t know if I heard her right—no, I must’ve misheard. My mind races, trying to make sense of it. But the words keep echoing in my head.She lied. Elinor wasn’t pregnant . The hospital, the abortion, it was all a show.I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears as I push the door open. Elinor is sitting on the small sofa, her phone in hand, mid-sentence. She looks up and her face looks startled as I stand there, staring at her.“Elinor...” My voice is barely more than a whisper.Her face hardens when she realizes what I must once overheard. Before I can say another word, I storm across the room, my hand flying through the air faster than I can control it. The sound of the slap echoes through the small room, loud and sharp, as my palm lands on her cheek. “You played me!” I yell, trying to stop my voice from
Imogene ScottI’m not sure how long it’s been but it feels like forever. My bag isn’t here, it’s by the booth so I don’t access my phone. And this room has nothing that can help.Which is why I’ve resorted to slamming my fists against the door. My hands are sour now. It’s probably been hours. How could Elinor do this? How could she lock me in here, like some prisoner? My skin feels clammy, and a cold sweat runs down my back. I lean my forehead against the door, breathing in shallow gasps. Regrets starts to bubble up in me all over again. I can’t believe it.Elinor played me. She used me, lied to me, made me doubt everything. And I believed her over Damien. Tears sting my eyes, but I force them back. This is my fault. I let her words poison my thoughts, and now... now Damien is probably gone. I pace the small room, feeling my skin prickly with goosebumps. I betrayed Damien’s trust, didn’t I? I didn’t believe him when he was honest. The look in his eyes when I confronted him about
Imogene Scott I stand frozen in the parking lot, the reality that Damien is gone hitting me. My eyes scan the crowd again, but there’s nothing. No sign of him anywhere. I’ve never felt this kind of desperation before—this gnawing, aching feeling that I’ve lost everything. And it’s my fault. My hands tremble as I wipe my face, clearing away the tears. I look around, the sight of people laughing and chatting as they walk to their cars.I spot an empty car near the edge of the lot, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m climbing onto the hood. The cold metal under my feet feels like the only solid thing in my life right now. I stand there, breathing hard, and people start to look up, curious about the crazy lady that’s standing on a car. They stop walking, turning to see what I’m doing. Some look confused, others amused, but I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it. “Damien!” I shout, my voice cracking as it cuts through the crowd. “Damien, if you’re here, please… please listen
Imogene ScottBut then, just as I’m about to turn away, I hear a familiar voice.“Imogene.”I freeze. My heart skips a beat, and I turn around slowly, afraid that I’ve imagined it.But I didn’t. There he is. Damien. Standing just a few feet away, his eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable. He’s still here. He’s not gone.“Damien…” I breathe, taking a shaky step forward.He walks toward me, and I an barely breathe as he steps closer, until we’re standing just inches apart. I search his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking, but I can’t.“You… you heard me?” I whisper.He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “I heard everything.”For a moment, neither of us speaks. I bite my lip, waiting for him to say something, anything. I’m terrified that I’ve messed this up beyond repair.“You’re not…saying anything?” I ask under my breath.Damien curls an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. Our bodies flush and I barely have time to register what’s happening before he pr
Imogene Scott I sit in the salon, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel it in my throat. The hum of the overhead lights, the soft chatter of a few people here for their own quiet escapes, all of it feels distant, like I’m listening through water. Gracie tells me to take a deep breath, that I’m safe now. I try, but the breath gets caught somewhere in my chest. My hands are still shaking.I glance around at the worn leather chairs. It should feel comforting, but instead, it’s just another layer to the storm that’s brewing inside me. I try to focus on it, on how the warmth of the place is supposed to soothe me. It doesn't. Gracie’s voice brings me back. “Business is slow today,” she says with a smile that tries to hide the concern in her eyes. It doesn’t fool me. I can feel her watching me as I try to steady myself. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Thanks for letting me in. I didn’t know where else to go.”She nods. “I’ve seen it all over the news, Imogene.” she’s careful not to make it s
Imogene Scott The first thing I notice when I wake up is the empty space beside me. The sheets are still warm, carrying the faint scent of Damien’s cologne, but he’s already gone. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The morning light filters through the curtains. The scent of something cooking drifts through the air—eggs, maybe omelets. I push the duvet off and slide my feet into my flip-flops. As I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the soft sounds of laughter and clinking utensils become clearer. In the kitchen, Damien is standing by the stove, a spatula in one hand and an apron lazily tied around his waist. Lily is perched on a high chair, her small hands clapping together as she cheers him on. “Good morning, Mummy!” she says excitedly when she sees me. A tired smile pulls at my lips as I walk over. “Good morning, baby. How are you feeling?” I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face, studying her carefully. “I feel better now!” she announces proudly, her
Imogene ScottIt’s midnight, and I still can’t sleep. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling because my mind refuses to quiet down. The room is dark except for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains. The house is silent. I curl my arms around my stomach, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of my belly. Two months. That’s all the time I have before the twins arrive, and yet I don’t feel ready. I barely feel capable of handling Lily some days. How am I supposed to take care of two more babies? I exhale slowly, willing the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. Damien was right about one thing—I’ve been forgetful lately. Not just little things like where I left my phone or if I locked the front door, but important things. I should have cleaned up the broken glass earlier. I should have been more careful. What if it had been worse? What if Lily had gotten seriously hurt because of me? My throat tightens. I know I should see a doctor, but the very
Damien ShawI let out a slow breath, my fingers pressing against my temples as I watch Imogene walk out of the room. The door doesn’t slam, but the sound of it clicking shut is just as final. My jaw tightens. Of course, she walked away. That’s what she does when she doesn’t want to hear something, shuts down, closes herself off. I loosen my tie, feeling the frustration settle in my chest. I hadn’t meant to start an argument. But how could she act like this wasn’t serious? It’s not just about her anymore. She’s been forgetting things more and more lately, and now Lily’s gotten hurt because of it. Just a small cut, sure. But what if it had been worse? What if she had stepped on something deeper, something that couldn’t be patched up with a bandage and a sticker? I exhale through my nose, rubbing a hand down my face. Fighting with Imogene never gets me anywhere. She’s stubborn. Too stubborn. But damn it, I don’t want to wake up one day and realize something terrible has happened be
Imogene Scott I carefully press the small, pastel-colored sticker onto the bandage covering Lily’s tiny foot. A smiling cartoon bear grins back at me, as if that alone can erase my guilt. I kiss her forehead, inhaling the soft, baby-powder scent of her hair. "I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, brushing a stray curl away from her face. Lily shifts on the couch, pulling the plush blanket over her lap. "It's not Mummy’s fault," she says in her small, serious voice. "Lily wasn’t careful." My heart clenches. Even at four, she’s trying to take the blame for something that’s entirely mine. I should’ve cleaned up the glass right away. I should’ve been more careful. I lift her tiny hand to my lips and kiss it. "Do you want me to get you anything?" Lily’s eyes brighten. "Chocolates!" I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You know you can’t have sweets past seven, baby. It’s almost eight." "Please, Mummy?" She pouts, her big brown eyes glaring at me.I sigh. "Fine," I relent,
Imogene ScottI jolt awake, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. The room is dimly lit, the heavy curtains keeping most of the daylight out. My heart is racing, my body damp with sweat. I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. The dream is already slipping away, but I know what it was about. Georgia. It’s always Georgia. My dreams are always about her. Mostly about that night she died.I exhale shakily and push a damp strand of hair from my face. My nightgown clings to my back, sticky with sweat. The dream lingers, making my skin prickle with unease. Why won’t these nightmares stop?I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, desperate for something to soothe my dry throat, but my hand meets empty space. I blink, frowning. It’s always there. I always leave it there. And then I remember—I moved the jug before my nap. But where? I try to picture it, but my mind feels sluggish, foggy. Did I put it in the kitchen? On the dr
Damien Shaw I’m at my desk, working through a contract revision when Kia steps into my office. I don’t look up immediately, still focused on the document in front of me. “Sir, someone’s here to see you,” she says. I finally glance up, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The first thought that comes to mind is the damn principal. I hope he hasn’t shown up here to grovel in person. I already made it clear—either they fix their behavior toward Lily, or I pull every last cent I’ve donated to that school. I don’t need another pointless apology. But when the door opens wider, it’s not the principal. It’s Sheila. I frown, leaning back in my chair as I take her in. She looks… fine. Not sick. But Imogene told me Sheila was unwell and wouldn’t be coming in for a few days. So what the hell is she doing here? “Sheila,” I say, watching her carefully. “Mr. Shaw.” She nods in greeting. “What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp.She offers a small smile, shifting on her feet. “I was
Imogene ScottI take my time getting Lily ready for school the next morning. With Sheila still sick and not coming in, the task is entirely mine, and I don’t mind. I cherish these moments—though today, my mind feels sluggish. I’m bothered by Georgia’s bracelet I found yesterday and the strange sense of forgetfulness creeping into my life lately. Lily sits on the edge of my bed, swinging her little legs back and forth as I button up her white blouse. She tilts her head back to look up at me.“Mommy, what’s wrong?” she asks. I pause for a second, startled. “Nothing, baby.” I smooth down her collar, making sure it sits perfectly. “I just want to remind you that if anything happens at school, if you feel sick or if someone makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, okay?” Lily nods, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Yes, Mommy.” “That’s my good girl.” I kiss the top of her head and take her small hand in mine, as I lead her out of the house. The drive to school is fi
Imogene Scott Lily giggles as she picks at the last piece of her banana pancake. Her tiny fingers are sticky with syrup. I watch her as I rest my head against the back of the chair. But my mind is somewhere else. The bracelet. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the cracks. Did I put it there? Had I forgotten? That’s the only logical explanation. Lately, I’ve been forgetful—missing appointments, losing track of time, misplacing things. Maybe this is just another slip, another thing lost in the chaos of my mind. But it doesn’t feel right. I inhale deeply, my fingers curling into my lap. I need to see it again. “Lily, baby, I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back. She nods, too focused on her food to question me. I walk upstairs slowly, each step. When I reach my bedroom, I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is dim. I make my way to the dresser. The drawer creaks