While Lilian gripped the steering wheel, nightfall arrived, filling her mind with a jumble of broken memories. The slight sound of her car's engine was ignored as she drove; her mind focused on memories that would never go away. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the wheel harder, and the old anguish of past wounds began to permeate through her chest.It felt like a combat zone growing up. After her parents passed away suddenly, she found comfort and affection from her grandfather, the only one who had ever expressed love for her. That comfort, too, was short-lived. When he traveled for long as a result of work, she found herself in the cold and uninviting environment of Uncle George and his family, where she was considered an outsider and a constant symbol of what didn't belong. Initially, her uncle had only a small amount of dislike, but it grew and became more noticeable as time passed. His wife, Diana, had treated her with indifference, barely acknowledging her existence un
The hospital waiting room was heavy with grief. Lilian sat on the cold, unyielding chair, her breaths shallow and deliberate. Aunt Diana’s sobs echoed, a painful rhythm of loss and heartbreak that filled the sterile space. Lilian's heart ached for her, though a quiet bitterness brewed beneath. Losing someone you loved so suddenly was cruel, but Lilian wondered if Diana had ever paused to consider how much she had hurt others—how much she had hurt her. George’s death felt surreal. A part of Lilian had believed he’d recover, that this wouldn’t be how it ended. But now, staring at the grim reality, she didn’t know how to process it. Despite the hostility he harbored toward her, he had been a father figure after her own passed away. There was love there—muted, complicated, but love nonetheless.Chris sat beside her, his expression unusually soft. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low like he wasn’t sure if he should break the silence. Lilian hesitated, unsure what to make of his concern.
Lilian’s heart felt like it had been fed into a relentless mincer, each beat shredding what remained of her fragile composure. Standing at a distance, her eyes locked onto the scene before her—a tableau of tenderness that wasn’t hers to claim. No matter how much she willed herself to look away, her gaze remained glued, a masochistic prisoner to the sight. Chris, the man she loved, stood inches from Rita. His eyes, so often distant and unreadable with Lilian, softened now in a way that made her throat tighten. His hands gently cupped Rita’s face as if cradling the most precious thing in the world. No kiss passed between them; instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, a gesture so intimate it stole the air from Lilian's lungs. “I’ve missed you.” The words formed silently on his lips, but they thundered in Lilian’s ears. Her mind spiraled. If they had met under different circumstances, would he still have cheated? Would I ever have stood a chance against her?The thought carved thr
Nothing about the day spelled disaster. The sun hung high in a brilliant sky, casting a golden sheen over the city as Lilian drove through familiar streets. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her thoughts as heavy as the task ahead. When the car pulled into the chapel parking lot, she surveyed the scene. The crowd was immense. Almost everyone had come to pay their last respects to Uncle George. Inside, the chapel was packed, each pew filled with somber faces.Lilian scanned the room and felt a flicker of relief. Everything was in place. She had ensured it. No one else had stepped up during the burial preparations; the responsibility had fallen solely on her shoulders. It was a task she accepted without complaint. Uncle George had his flaws but he did his best for her when no one else would. This was her way of honoring him, of repaying an unspoken debt.The crowd murmured as the service prepared to start. Most attendees were seated, but Lilian hesitated, opting for a pew far from
The atmosphere in the hospital waiting area was heavy with tension, the sort that enveloped your chest and constricted. Chris paced aimlessly as if he were trying to escape his intense anxiety. He never anticipated being in this predicament, especially after all that had happened.Lilian. Shot. Bleeding. On the cold cemetery ground.The image was etched into his mind, jagged and unrelenting. When the men with guns had appeared, he had acted on instinct, diving for Rita and shielding her with his body. He had been ready to die for her, prepared for that possibility. But when the dust settled and the police sirens scattered the attackers, Chris hadn’t expected to turn around and find Lilian—his ex-wife—wounded and pale, her blood staining the earth.His fists clenched as he paced. How had he let this happen? How had he failed to protect her? Guilt gnawed at him with unrelenting fervor. Lilian might have been his ex-wife, but seeing her like that had unlocked something primal and raw in
Lilian stirred awake with a sigh, her back tense and arm pained. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the alarm on the nightstand showed just after eight. She ran her good hand over her face, the nagging ache in her wrapped shoulder acting as an unwelcome reminder of what happened the day before. She has to prepare breakfast. William would awaken shortly, and she couldn't allow him to be hungry.After completing her morning routine, she descended the stairs. She lingered by the kitchen door for a moment, biting her lip as she thought about how to handle breakfast with just one functional arm. Resolved not to allow her injuries to hinder her, she set out to gather the ingredients for scrambled eggs and potatoes. Every movement was careful, as her restricted mobility made even the easiest task challenging.While she worked, recollections of the funeral surged back like a tidal wave: her uncle's lifeless form, the chaos, the gunfire, and ultimately the piercing pain. Everythin
Chris recognized the precise moment Lilian's emotions shut down. The warmth that once softened her features turned icy, leaving an emptiness that mirrored the cold gripping his chest. Her voice was devoid of inflection as she asked, "What are you doing here?"Before she could shut him out completely, he pushed his way inside, brushing past her slight form. Her house, unfamiliar to him, carried a subtle scent of lavender and freshly baked bread. It felt too personal, too foreign, as if stepping into a life he no longer belonged to. His eyes flickered to her arm in a sling, a stark reminder of her recent ordeal, but his thoughts veered sharply toward the man he'd seen leaving moments earlier. The realization that the warm smile he’d glimpsed was meant for someone else made his jaw tighten."What was he doing here?" The words escaped before he could temper them, his tone clipped, betraying his frustration. He tried to mask the unreasonable anger simmering beneath his skin, but it seeped
"Why are you even here, Chris?" Lilian's voice was sharp, slicing through the tense silence of her kitchen. She gripped the edge of the counter with her good hand, her injured arm cradled protectively in its sling. Her eyes were hard, her tone as cold as winter steel.Chris stood stiffly near the doorway, his gaze bouncing between the bottle of pills on the counter and Lilian’s guarded expression. "I came to check on you," he said, his voice low but strained.She snorted bitterly, shaking her head. "Check on me? Or check on the man who just left my house?"His jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "Who was he, Lilian?"Her sharp laugh filled the room, humorless and cutting. "You’re unbelievable. You don’t get to ask me that. You lost that right when we signed those papers.""I just want to know if he spent the night." Chris didn’t mean for his voice to come out so harsh, but the thought of another man in her home—a home he'd never set foot in before now—rattled him more than he ca
She held the phone to her ear, her bruised fingers trembling."I missed you, sister." "You haven't spoken to me for some time," William answered quietly and sorrowfully.She shut her eyes to fend off the sting of tears."I apologize, my love," she murmured gently, pushing the falsehood past her lips. “I lost my phone.”It was a poor excuse. She knew he’d see right through it, but what could she say? That someone had tried to blow her to pieces? That the charred wreck of her car now sat behind a police barricade as evidence of an attempted murder?There was silence on the other end—brief but heavy.“Can we do a video call? Are you okay? I want to see you,” William asked, voice tinged with urgency and something deeper… fear.He knew. Not everything, but enough.“I… not right now, dear,” she replied, adjusting the oxygen tubes across her face. “They don’t allow video calls where I am.”Another lie.“That’s a stupid rule!” he yelled. “Who makes such stupid rules?”She bit her lip and let
Chris stood in the hospital corridor, his eyes on Rita and Kelvin. Rita was calm, but Kelvin's disheveled state gave away the restlessness inside."Has she woken up?" Kelvin's voice was barely above a whisper, laden with concern.Chris shook his head. "No."Rita stepped forward. "You need to head home, Chris. Take a shower and change clothes. You look like a zombie."Chris's jaw tightened. "I'm not leaving, Rita.""You're no good to her or anyone if you collapse from exhaustion," Rita retorted.Kelvin interjected, "Rita's right, Chris. I promise we won't leave her even for a second."Chris glanced at Lilian through the glass window. She remained motionless. "Okay then, but don't leave her side. She was attacked; who knows if these criminals would return to finish the job."Kelvin nodded solemnly. Rita's eyes softened. "She'll be okay. Lilian is too stubborn to surrender to death," she said with a faint smile, pressing a gentle kiss to Chris's lips.Chris nodded and left. The ki
"How is she doing, Chris?" Diana's voice cut through the stillness like tension-strung glass—soft, controlled, and yet with suppressed feeling. She fought back tears. The last two days had been terrible. Uncertainty lingers in the air, and apprehension dangles in the air like smoke on fire. "She woke up yesterday," Chris said, entering the empty hallway outside Lilian's room. "A few seconds before falling asleep again." The doctors had told him it was nothing. Patients with head trauma sleep more in the beginning. He heard her suck in a sharp breath, as if she'd been holding it for some time. Diana had changed since her husband died. The once lovely woman now clung to hope like a widow would cling to the final photo from the past. She had been trying to re-open lines of communication with Lilian for months, hoping to bridge the pain and loss-filled gap. But Lilian had shut her out of everything, closing the world away with an impenetrable will and no reason. "Is she going to be all
"Miss Lilian.?" he started cautiously.She spoke in a hoarse voice. "Please call me Lilian."A bright smile swept across the doctor's face. "Okay, Lilian." It's marvelous to have you up. "You really had us worried."He brought over a stool and sat beside her bed. "Do you know where you are and what happened?"Lilian's forehead furrowed as pieces of memory surfaced in her mind. I'm at a hospital. I recall when I opened the door of my car, then. a severe push pushed me backward. "I must have struck my head."The expression on the doctor's face hardened. "In fact, the car had a bomb attached." The explosion injured you with its blast."His words weighed heavy upon her. To consider that one had attacked her so brutally was inconceivable. Her temples started the dull pounding, heightening the maelstrom of feeling.Noticing she was in pain, Chris held her hand tighter, anchoring her. Their eyes met for an instant, no words exchanged but a silent communication between them.The physician wen
A driving, aching pain went through her head, a never-ending thud that refused to abate. Lilian's body felt foreign to her, all her muscles refusing to let go, all her limbs rooted to the spot. A mist enveloped her mind, thick and unbreakable, devouring all her efforts at understanding. She attempted to lift her eyelids, but they were jammed, pressed down by heavy stones. Fear crept in through her, a silent, malignant fear that engulfed her heart. She struggled to say something, but nothing emerged.Then, movement.She wasn’t still. Someone was moving her. Every move brought fresh waves of pain all over her body, searing and limitless. Her brain commanded them to stop, to decelerate—to cease the pain—but the cry remained locked inside her, muffled and unheeded. A voice pierced the fog.Immediate. Panicked. "We need a doctor!"Doctor? What happened?The pain increased, pulling her back into the darkness again. She let herself be consumed by it, drowning in the darkness like a ship pound
Lilian was shocked to find the woman standing before her, arms folded and eyes blazing with anger. Rita. The same woman whom she had so endeavored to erase from her mind, the one who had been bothering her at every turn whenever Chris was present.Lilian's hand made a fist on the doorknob, annoyance coursing through her veins. She was exhausted, sleeping on duty, and had no use for drama at the start of the day."What do you want, Rita?" She snapped abruptly, in annoyance.Rita's chin lifted, her fine features unmarred by the early morning sunlight. She carried the untrained elegance of a woman who had spent years mastering the art of being distant in a black, skin-tight, navy-blue pantsuit that clung to her like a second skin. Even now, with her temper boiling just beneath the surface, she looked as if she had just walked out of a high-rise office building and not as if she had dashed over to talk to someone."I'm here to warn you," Rita told her, her voice sharp and cutting. "Stay a
Jack gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other arm loose over the gear shift as he drove through the quiet evening streets."Well. Chris?" Jack finally broke the silence."He's my ex-husband," she replied coldly, staring out the window.Jack hesitated before he said anything. He was giving her the opportunity to say more, but Lilian didn't want to play along. And that kiss—almost.She exhaled sharply.Jack’s voice pulled her back. “I thought he was with Rita?”“He is.”“Then what’s the deal?”Lilian adjusted in her seat. “It’s complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it.”Silence again.Jack nodded as if he understood what she was telling him, but he really didn't. "Okay… I won't push it." "Just so you know, I'm here if you ever want to talk to someone at some point."Something in his tone—gentle, peaceful—soothed the tension in her She had never received that from anyone else before. If she was having an issue, she took care of it herself. There was never anyone there to
Chris clenched his jaw as he watched Jack and Lilian from across the shooting range. There was something in her smile directed at the cop, something Chris had never witnessed, that felt like a blow to his pride. He had no justification to feel this way, and no cause to let it disturb him, yet it did. And badly."The fact that you're glaring at your ex-wife and her hero," Jude remarked dryly, breaking the tense silence between them.Chris didn't bother masking his irritation. "He's not her damned hero!"Jude smirked, clearly enjoying himself. "He is… in case you've forgotten, he did try to save her. That makes him a hero in her eyes."Chris's stomach twisted into a knot as he caught sight of Lilian giving Jack a look that made his blood boil. It was admiration—maybe even something more. His hands tightened into fists by his sides. He did not like it. He hated it."Shut the fuck up, Jude," Chris growled, his voice low and dangerous.Jude chuckled, shaking his head. "Look, you have to pu
Chris watched as Jack led Lilian away, his hand wrapped around hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Irritation crept up his spine, twisting into something sharper, something unfamiliar. Why the hell did it bother him so much?His fists clenched involuntarily. He hadn't even noticed until soft hands curled around his, grounding him."Are you okay?" Rita's voice was smooth and concerned, drawing him back from the unsettling thoughts swirling in his mind.Chris turned to face her. Her beauty was striking as always, her features soft yet captivating. She’s the one I want, he reminded himself. Not Lilian. Never Lilian. It shouldn’t matter who held her hand. Who made her laugh. Who made her—His jaw tightened."Yeah, I am," he muttered, forcing a smile. Rita returned it, and for a moment, he almost convinced himself that her smile was enough. That her touch was enough. That she was enough.Then Lilian returned—still laughing, still at ease. And all his irritation came rushi