TWENTY NINE Talia’s face was a mask of forced calm as she walked over to Leo's table. Inside, however, her stomach churned with discomfort. She sat down across from him, plastering on a fake smile, hoping this encounter would be quick."Mr. Leo, what a coincidence seeing you here!" she said, her voice bright, but her eyes carried a glimmer of frustration she struggled to hide.Leo leaned back in his chair, a sly smile curling on his lips as he met her gaze. “Yes, Miss Talia. Funny thing though, my wife cooked for me today, so I didn’t even need to come here.”Talia froze mid-bite, her throat tightening as she swallowed her food a bit too forcefully. She quickly reached for her water, taking a sip to mask her growing irritation. *Oh please, stop talking nonsense,* she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes."Then why aren't you eating what your wife cooked?" she asked, her voice filled with false curiosity a
THIRTY Talia glared at Marco, the heat of her anger burning in her chest as she avoided eye contact. She clenched her fists, every muscle in her body screaming with frustration. She didn’t want to be near him, let alone listen to whatever nonsense he had to say. “What do you want?” she snapped, her voice sharp and cold. Her expression remained hardened as she shifted her weight uncomfortably, wishing he would just disappear. Marco’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as he took a step forward, his hand reaching for hers. “Let’s go,” he demanded, his voice devoid of emotion as though he had the right to still control her. Talia flung his hand off her wrist as if his touch burned her skin, her heart pounding with irritation. “Just tell me what you want, Marco!” Her voice rose, shaking slightly from the mixture of hurt and anger coursing through her veins. “Stop touching me!” Marco’s eyes flashed with a hint of frustration, the calm facade slipping for a brief second before he compos
THIRTY ONE Malia sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixated on the floor, as her mother gently combed through her hair. The rhythmic strokes of the brush were meant to soothe, but the tension in Malia’s clenched fists betrayed her frustration. “You look absolutely stunning, Malia,” her mother, Mrs. Lyra, said, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m telling you, no man will be able to walk past without turning his head.” She admired her daughter’s reflection in the mirror, her voice dripping with pride. Malia’s lips tightened into a thin line, her eyes dark with jealousy as she met her mother’s gaze in the mirror. “That’s only if my idiotic stepsister doesn’t decide to crash the night and ruin everything, like she always does,” she muttered bitterly, venom seeping into her tone. Mrs. Lyra’s fingers paused for a second, her face twisting with a knowing smirk before she resumed brushing. “Oh, that’s right, Talia. The ever-perfect golden child. But did you hear?” Her voice lowered, al
THIRTY TWOMr. Diego's eyes widened, confusion and disbelief etched on his face as Leo’s bold claim hung in the air. The room fell silent, all eyes shifting to Leo and Talia, their tension palpable. Talia’s heart thudded in her chest as she avoided her father’s questioning gaze, desperately trying to maintain her composure.“Wait… you’re married?” Mr. Diego asked, his voice thick with curiosity, as if struggling to grasp the reality.Leo’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his sharp gaze fixed on Talia, who stood rigid beside him. Her pulse quickened under his stare, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. He seemed to take pleasure in the subtle discomfort he was causing her. “Yes. I got married as soon as I returned to the country,” Leo responded smoothly, his voice laced with arrogance. “I just haven’t announced it yet.”Mr. Diego raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by the sudden revelation. “It’s quite a rush! I wonder if one of the people here is your fiancée?” His wo
THIRTY THREE Talia immediately stiffened, her name echoing through the hallway, spoken by a voice she didn’t recognize. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she turned slowly toward Leo, her heartbeat quickening with a mix of fear and frustration. “Let me finish this conversation with my mother tonight, Leo,” she said, her voice barely concealing the exhaustion that weighed heavily in her chest. Her eyes flitted away from his, avoiding the intensity in his gaze. “We’ll talk about this later.”She ran a hand through her hair, trying to soothe the tension pounding in her head. “And I think we both need time to calm down, to think clearly before we take any action.”Leo’s hand lingered on her arm, his touch soft yet filled with restraint. His lips pressed together as he held back the words he truly wanted to say. His eyes, though dark and stormy, flickered with something more tender—something Talia refused to acknowledge right now."Al
THIRTY FOURFear gripped Talia as she looked around the dark, suffocating room. Her heart pounded like a drum, her palms slick with cold sweat. She pounded on the door, her fists aching from the effort. “Mother! Mother! Please, open the door! Open the door for me! I know you're out there!" Her voice cracked with desperation as she slammed her body against the heavy door again, the sound echoing in the suffocating space.Outside, her stepmother smirked, her lips curling into a cruel grin. Her hand gripped the door knob tightly, fingers lingering as if savoring Talia’s agony. "Shut up, Talia!" she hissed, her voice dripping with malice. "Stay inside and let the matter settle. When everything falls into place, only then will I open the door for you. Do you hear me?!" Her voice was sharp, echoing through the cold, silent house.Talia’s heart dropped. She backed away from the door, chest heaving, her breath ragged. She fumbled for her phone, hands shaking, and frantically dialed the guards
Greg's face was plastered with worry and panic, his brow furrowed and lips trembling as he fidgeted nervously. “Could it be that they’ve rekindled their old feelings, sir?” he ventured, hesitating as he spoke. His voice wavered, unsure whether he should even suggest such a thing.Leo’s reaction was immediate. His eyes darkened, the veins in his neck bulging as fury built inside him like a storm. His fists slammed onto the table, rattling the objects on it. “It’s *not possible!*” His voice exploded, raw and full of venom. His breathing quickened, each intake of air sharp and strained, the very idea of betrayal igniting something fierce in him.Greg stepped back, eyes wide with fear as he instinctively raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “S-sorry, sir,” he stammered, bowing his head to avoid Leo’s searing gaze. His heart raced, pounding against his ribs. Leo clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached, but the pain in his chest was far worse. His eyes darted back and forth as his
1Anna's POVI paced around the hospital ward restlessly. The smell of sterile water and antibiotics makes me feel disgusting and throwing up at the spot. The hum of the fluorescent lights above mingling with my anxious thoughts. I have been here for the past 2 hours, this has been my daily routine in this painful journey of being a mother. Missed periods, running countless tests and taking all sorts of medicines for the past years now. Nagging from mother-in-law seems unending.I have been struggling with polycystic ovary syndrome (POS) which hurts like hell when tests are run. I watched as the woman next to me is called into the examination room. My heart skips a beat. My palms became sweaty out of nervousness.After what seemed like a very long time, the door slowly opened and Dr. Reynolds walked into the room. He wore a formal shirt and tie and had a serious look in his face, he was professional but did not smile. There was just shame, disappointment and I tensed myself for the p