Several days later…The news of George leaving his bride on the altar and canceling the wedding has sent shockwaves through social media, and it seems like everyone is talking about it. Entertainment magazines are having a field day, speculating about the reasons behind his decision and painting elaborate scenarios of what might have driven him to leave his bride-to-be high and dry.But I am not interested. I have better things to do than waste my time on gossip and hearsay. My focus is on my work, and I need to keep my mind sharp and focused in order to meet the deadlines looming ahead of me.I don’t care what people have been saying about George or Megan. All I am looking for is the right moment to get away from here. Until then, I will keep my focus on my work.I take a deep breath and try to concentrate on the task at hand, but my mind keeps wandering back to the news that has captured everyone's attention. I can't understand why people are so fascinated by the personal lives of c
I came to meet my parents at their house, where I had spent my childhood.Standing in front of my childhood home, a mixture of nostalgia and apprehension fills me. The house, once a haven of comfort and security, seems to carry the weight of time itself. It's a silent witness to the joys and sorrows that have shaped my life.Taking each step slowly, I approach the familiar structure. The memories from my past rush to greet me like long-lost friends. The laughter of my childhood, the tears shed in times of distress—they all come flooding back, washing over me in waves of emotions.The once-lush greenery of the courtyard has given way to a tangled mess of weeds and overgrown grass, a testament to the passage of time. The wooden fence that once marked the boundaries of my world now shows the effects of weather and age.I can almost feel the texture of the wood under my fingers as I recall the countless times I leaned against it, lost in my thoughts. Time has cast its spell on everything
Mom walks over to the door, her eyes never leaving me."Our grandchildren… Evan and Barbe." Dad pulls Evan and Barbe in front of my mom, joy evident on his face.It is only at this point that Mom looks away from me and glances down at the kids. She grins through her tears. The joy in her eyes is evident as she kneels and envelopes them in a warm embrace."You two are absolutely adorable," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion."Mom…" My voice is a fragile thread, an apology that holds years of remorse within it.She looks up, her eyes connecting with mine, a mixture of emotions swirling within them. "Vivian, you have children!" The surprise and hurt are evident in her tone. "You didn’t let us know about them all those years," she complains."I am sorry," I can only apologize, guilt overwhelming me. The tears in her eyes are a mirror of my own emotions."Aren't you going to invite them inside, Clara?" Dad chimes in. "They must be tired and hungry. Come inside, kiddos. We will sit,
I'm stuck in a living nightmare. My children and I are being kidnapped by a group of masked men, and I'm powerless to stop it. We've been dragged out of the house and thrown into the backseat of a black car.My hands and legs are tied, and a rag has been stuffed into my mouth to silence me. I can't even comfort my children, who are cowering in fear beside me.As I look around, I can see that we're surrounded by darkness. The windows are tinted, blocking out any light from outside. The only illumination comes from a small overhead lamp, casting eerie shadows on the interior of the car. It feels like we're in a tomb, trapped and helpless.My heart breaks as I watch my children tremble with fear. Evan and Barbe cling to each other, their eyes wide with terror. I try to reassure them with a gentle nod, hoping they'll sense my love and support despite our dire situation. They lean into me, seeking refuge in my embrace, and I do my best to comfort them, my own fear and panic threatening to
Relief floods through me, washing away the fear and hopelessness that have threatened to consume me. My lips part, ready to form words of gratitude, but they remain stuck, unable to voice the emotions swirling inside me."Don't worry, Vivian... I'm here. I'll get you out of this," he says, his voice filled with conviction. My heart leaps with joy, my spirit lifts, and a newfound courage takes hold of me.At this moment, everything changes. A glimmer of hope appears as the darkness fades. My children's grasp on me loosens, their faces brightening with renewed trust. They believe in George, and so do I. Together, we will overcome this ordeal, emerging stronger and more united than ever before.I feel a surge of energy coursing through my veins. My limbs regain their strength, my senses heighten, and my resolve solidifies. I straighten my back, squaring my shoulders.The cement may have imprisoned us, but it cannot break our spirits. We will rise above it, triumphant and resilient.Georg
Vivian’s POV…"Vivian, wake up…"Someone calls me and shakes my shoulder. The voice sounds low and hoarse. I'm not sure who it is or what they want. I am a bit annoyed."Um…" I groan, wincing."Vivian, please wake up..." the voice begs, sounding more insistent this time.I just want to sleep. What is the problem with the people? Can’t they simply leave me alone?I swear I will beat whoever is disturbing me. My forehead creases as I try to open my eyes. But they feel heavy, like there are weights attached to my eyelashes, preventing me from lifting them.I try to respond, but my throat feels dry and scratchy. All I can manage is a weak "um.""Vivian…" This time, the voice sounds louder than before.I gradually realize that it's George who is trying to wake me up. My mind starts to piece together fragments of memory—masked men, fear, my children, George's rescue. Panic rises within me, and I jolt awake, my heart pounding in my chest.Before I can catch my breath, he pulls me into his ar
"Wait…" George opens the door and gets out of the car.The man moves his gun toward him.I almost shrieked in horror. I press my hands on my mouth."Look… I can give you double the amount you are offered," George says, trying to negotiate with the man. "Just let her go. I promise I will never tell anyone about this."The man curls his lips into a devious smile and scoffs, "Is that so? Well, I am afraid I won’t be able to accept your offer, Mr. Stanley. I don’t back down once I take the money. She has to die." His gun turns toward me.My breathing stops as I see his finger on the trigger. He is going to shoot me.Bang…The gunshot rings out, filling the air with a cacophony of sound, and I can't help but squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the searing pain of impact.But the pain doesn't come. Instead, the sound of a struggle reaches my ears, and I dare to open my eyes a fraction.What I see defies my understanding: George is grappling with the man, his strength and determination on full
George’s POV…We are stranded in a deserted area in the middle of the night. No one is going to come here. I'm wounded, bleeding, and the pain pulses through me with every heartbeat. But more agonizing is the knowledge that Vivian is in danger because of me.I can't allow her to stay here with me, exposed and vulnerable. I don’t want to be a burden to Vivian.Those men can come back to hurt her. She shouldn’t stay with me here, unprotected. She should find a way to escape here.Summoning what little strength I have left, I push her away, my voice laced with desperation. "Get away from here," I growl, the words heavy with the weight of my own guilt and fear. "I don't need your support. Just go away."But her response is fierce and unwavering. "No," she retorts with equal intensity, her determination unshakable. "I am not going to leave you.""Why?" I demand. "I don’t deserve your kindness. I deceived you, used you, and hurt you many times. Despite knowing about Megan’s cruelty, I didn’