Pamela's Point of ViewMy headache throbs as I wake up, eyes squinting at the soft morning light that filters through the curtains. That night's gown hangs heavy and wrinkled on my skin. I can almost envision how the party was, rewinding in my head all the scheming of Rebecca, the cold glances of the elites, Rowan's furious outburst, and Sinclair's unnerving presence.I groan inwardly and drag myself up. Every muscle in my body screams from the tension of last night, and my mind is every bit as heavy. I can’t just shake my head over his reaction.The sharp knocking at the door jerks me out of my thoughts. For a moment I consider ignoring it, but the knocking persists, firm and insistent. Reluctantly, I stand up and smooth my gown as much as possible as I begin to walk towards the door. My stomach tightens as I open it.Standing before me is Rowan's mother, crisp as ever in her fine clothes, not missing a detail of my appearance as she casts an unmistakable look of disdain upon me. I k
Pamela’s Point of ViewOne evening in a grocery store, the fluorescent lights overhead murmured softly as Joana and I slowly strolled down the aisle, our cart and us pushing it. It was one of those dull, lackluster nights where I finally began to relax a little bit. Joana, animated as ever, chattering beside me, commenting on the items we toss into the cart.“So, how's it going, that apartment near to your workplace? Do you like it?” asked Joana, reaching for a box of pasta and tossing it into the recipe, altogether.I try to force myself into a small smile. A weight is hanging round my neck: the secret.“Yeah, it's… convenient,” I say.That is what she thinks, that I live in a small apartment close to my work. Joana does not know the real story of Rowan or that we are engaged. Every time I try to tell her, I just can't do it. Maybe I fear how she'll react, or that she'll see through the cracks I have been trying to smooth over with this facade I have been maintaining.She nods, unawa
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe house is eerily quiet when I step inside. Not a single light is on, and the usual bustle of maids is gone. A sense of unease creeping through me as I shut the door behind me. Something feels wrong. Very wrong.The faint scent of alcohol wafts through the air, pungent and overpowering. I follow it through the darkened hallways, my footsteps hesitant, heart racing with every step. I can barely see where I'm going, and the silence presses in around me like a heavy weight.I reach for the light switch, flicking it on. It snaps on with blinding brightness, stinging my eyes, and I blink furiously to gain control. But it takes only a split second before I jump out of my skin again.Rowan is standing there, motionless, his eyes locked on me. His expression is blank, unnervingly so. But his eyes... they’re cold, yet burning with something intense. He's leaning casually against the wall, but I can tell he’s drunk—his posture too loose, the way he sways ever so slightl
Pamela’s Point of ViewI wake the next morning feeling as though I've been hit by a truck. My mind is slow, body aching, and I can feel the echo of Rowan's touch from last night. I can almost feel him pushing me against the wall, heat on my skin from his breathing, the rough hands on my body—it's just all too vivid. I don't know what to make of it. It was too raw, too intemperate. Did it really happen? Or was it some sort of fever dream?As I sit up in bed, the reality of the situation hits me hard. No, it wasn’t a dream. Rowan kissed me. He claimed me. But then he walked away as if it was nothing.I glance at the clock. It’s early, earlier than I’d like to be awake, but sleep isn’t going to come easily now. The weight of what happened last night sits heavy on my chest, and I wonder how Rowan will act today. Will he pretend it never happened? Or worse, will he be angry?I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs, half expecting to find the house just as cold and silent as it was las
I sit on Joana’s couch, shifting uncomfortably, trying to focus on the TV show playing in the background. It’s some kind of crime drama, but I can’t follow the plot. My attention keeps flickering back to the phone in my lap, my thumb hovering just above the screen. I glance at it again, checking for a message I know isn’t there. Nothing.I bite my lip and set the phone down, only to pick it up again moments later. My heart skips a beat as I unlock the screen, staring at the empty notification bar. What am I even expecting?It’s not like Rowan has a habit of messaging me. In fact, he rarely does. But after last night... my stomach flutters at the thought of him. There’s this strange sensation, a mix of excitement and confusion, something I can’t quite explain. I feel... nervous? Restless? Maybe it’s both. I don't know why I even care this much.I glance at the phone again.Still nothing.Joana’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Pamela, are you even watching?” Her tone is
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe credits roll on the screen, but I’m not really paying attention. My mind has been elsewhere the whole time—on my phone, on Rowan, on what happened last night. The buzzing energy in my stomach won’t go away, that strange mixture of nerves and anticipation building up, twisting tighter with every passing minute.Finally, I can’t take it anymore. With shaky hands, I unlock my phone and see it—Rowan’s message.[I’m waiting outside your sister’s apartment.]My breath catches in my throat. He’s here?I stare at the message for a moment, trying to process it, my pulse quickening with both excitement and nervousness. Without thinking, I jump up from the couch, almost knocking over the popcorn bowl in my haste.“I’ll be right back!” I stammer, barely registering Joana’s confused expression as I rush toward the door.“Wait, where are you going?” Joana calls after me, but I’m already out the door, my heart racing as I sprint down the stairs of her apartment building. W
Pamela’s Point of ViewWe walk into Elysian Threads, the most renowned bridal shop in the city. The shop is famous for its elegant, handcrafted wedding dresses, each one made with precision and care. I’ve heard the waiting list here is months long, but of course, Rowan’s connections made sure we didn’t have to wait a single day.It’s a beautiful place, adorned with delicate chandeliers and racks of stunning gowns that catch the light as we move past them. The scent of fresh flowers drifts through the air, making everything feel even more surreal. My heart should be racing with excitement, but instead, there’s a strange heaviness weighing it down.Rowan walks in beside me, as calm and composed as ever. His hand rests on the small of my back, a gesture that might seem affectionate to anyone watching, but I know better. It’s just part of the performance. We’re engaged, after all. People are watching.As we are greeted by a woman who introduces herself as Marie, the assistant for today, I
Pamela’s Point of ViewTossing and turning in bed, I can’t find any solace in sleep. My mind keeps replaying that moment at Elysian Threads, where Rowan looked at me with an intensity I hadn’t before. The warmth of his gaze feels like a memory just out of reach, slipping through my fingers like sand. Why can’t I shake it? Did it mean anything? I keep wondering if that moment was real or if I’d imagined it in a desperate attempt to find something genuine in this engagement.I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Shadows from the streetlights flicker through my window, but they provide little comfort. The night feels endless, and I wish it would just take me somewhere far away from this tangled web of emotions. As I flip again, my phone beeps, jolting me from my thoughts.I sit up, heart racing, and grab my phone from the bedside table. The glow of the screen illuminates my face, and I see two notifications. The first one twists my stomach. It’s from my father.[We need to talk. I