Damian was driving towards the airport with a mixture of anticipation and concern. He was going to pick up his cousin Fiona, who held a special place in his heart, almost like a younger sister. As he drove, memories flooded back to him of a time when Fiona's innocence had been shattered by a cruel act of jealousy. Damian couldn't forget the incident that had caused Fiona to leave the country at such a young age. His childhood friend, Marah, had committed an unspeakable act against Fiona that still haunts Damian to this day. They were only fifteen of them at the time and were having a sleepover like any other pair of friends. However, what should have been a night of laughter and bonding turned into a nightmare. Marah, consumed by envy and spite, had taken her jealousy to a new level. In a fit of rage, she had mercilessly chopped off Fiona's long, beautiful black hair, hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of ebony silk. It was a senseless act of cruelty, driven by Marah'
"Oh, your hair grew back” was the first thing that left Marah's mouth after being silent for a minute or two. poor thinking I thought to himself, Is there a brain in that head of hers at all? How could that be the only thing that came out of her mouth? Dad was there and Mom had just stepped out of the kitchen, the shock on their faces was visible. As Marah's words hung in the air, I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. How could she be so oblivious to the tension in the room? Her shallow comment about Fiona's hair felt like a slap in the face, especially given our history with her. I exchanged a quick glance with Dad, who looked equally taken aback, while Mom's expression turned from surprise to concern. I cleared my throat, trying to maintain my composure despite the rising anger within me. "Marah, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. It took all my willpower not to lash out at her for dredging up painful memories. Marah flashed me a saccharine
Serena As Owen's words hung in the air, Serena felt a surge of panic and unease wash over her. She couldn't believe that he had tracked her down after all these years, especially now that she had finally moved on with Damian. But she knew better than to underestimate Owen's manipulative nature, and she braced herself for whatever he had in store. Summoning all her courage, Serena took a deep breath and met Owen's gaze with steely determination. "I'm sorry about how things ended between us in the past," she began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart. "But I've moved on, Owen. I'm with Damian now, and there's nothing you can do to change that." She pleaded with him to let her go and put an end to this twisted game he was playing. "We can still be friends, Owen," she said, her voice softening with genuine concern. "For old times' sake. But you need to understand that I've moved on, and I'm happy now. Please, don't make this any harder than it needs to be." But as she loo
Owen Owen rushed to her side before her head reached the ground. Ignoring the stares of passersby, Owen carefully placed Serena in the backseat and instructed his guard to retrieve her purse. Upon their arrival, Owen wasted no time explaining the situation to the medical staff, his voice steady. The doctors quickly sprang into action, assessing Serena's condition and running a battery of tests to determine the cause of her collapse. As Owen paced anxiously in the waiting room, his thoughts were consumed by Serena's well-being. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him, knowing that what he had said earlier had led her into danger once again. As Serena lay unconscious in the hospital bed, Owen's mind raced with memories of their early dates. He vividly recalled the terrifying moment when Serena collapsed after biting into something hard, her body going limp in his arms. At the time, he had been filled with panic and confusion, unsure of what had caused Serena's sudd
After smiling drunkenly for a few minutes, Serena burst into tears. "How could you, baby? How could you kiss me with your lips tasting like blueberries? You know I love blueberries." She jumped on Owen, pushing him into the room. The force of her push made him stumble, reaching out to grab the toilet as he fell. He had been in the shower when he heard her knocking, and all he had on was a towel, now lying on the ground. His bare, slender body was exposed. "Serena, wait," Owen tried to protest, his voice strained with concern. But Serena, still in her drunken state, grabbed him by the balls and pulled him toward the kitchen, navigating every nook and cranny of his house with alarming precision. "Serena, you need to stop," Owen said, his voice a mix of confusion and urgency. "We can't do this. Not like this." Serena, her tears mixing with a look of fierce determination, ignored his words. "Why did you leave me?" she slurred, her grip tightening. "Why did you leave us? You promised y
Owen quickly put on some clothes, his mind racing with anger and suspicion. Who was taking those photos? Could Marah have someone tailing Serena without his knowledge? He had to find out.He dashed out the door, his steps quick and purposeful. The cool night air did nothing to calm his nerves. He headed towards the house next door, where he had seen the camera flashes. His heart pounded as he reached the door and, without hesitation, he kicked it open with a powerful blow.The door flew open, and the first person he saw was a young boy, barely in his late teens, standing there with wide eyes, both scared and defiant. The room was cluttered with computer equipment, camera gear, and piles of paper. The boy’s hands were trembling, a camera hanging loosely around his neck.“Who took the photos of my apartment a few minutes ago?” Owen demanded, his voice a mixture of anger and desperation. “Someone better start talking.”The boy swallowed hard, glancing nervously around the room as if
Owen's heart raced, anger and confusion battling within him. "Who the hell are you, and how did you get into my house?" he demanded, trying hard not to wake Serena, who was sleeping peacefully upstairs. The woman turned around slowly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Oh hi, my love," she replied casually. "I made breakfast. Let's eat, and I'll answer all your questions." Her tone was nonchalant, but her actions were anything but. She adjusted her shirt, pulling it up just enough so that her bare bum was exposed, adding an unsettling layer of seduction to the already bizarre situation. Owen's jaw clenched as he tried to maintain his composure. "I don't know who you think you are, but you need to leave," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but firm. The woman ignored his warning, taking a step closer to him. "Come on, Owen. Sit down. Have some eggs. We can talk this out," she purred, her eyes glinting with a strange mix of amusement and menace. He took a deep breath,
I was done with shopping and was on my way out when I bumped into someone. “What the fuck? Are you blind?” I began to say, my irritation flared up instantly. But then I looked down to see who it was. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized him—the guy from the video Marah had sent me a while back. Wait, why was he with so many sanitary products? I thought to myself, confusion mixing with my anger. He paused for a little bit, clearly annoyed. I could tell he was in a hurry, too preoccupied to confront me or ask any questions. He bent over and started collecting the items back into the shopping basket. For a moment, I just stood there, frozen, watching him. Should I help him? Or should I just walk away and pretend this never happened? My curiosity got the better of me. “Do you need some help?” I asked, trying to sound casual, though my heart was pounding in my chest. He glanced up, his eyes locking mine for a second. There was a flicker of recognition, but he quickly looked away, fo
I rushed home, my mind still reeling from the events at the hospital. The drive felt endless, and by the time I pulled into the driveway, the weight of the night hung heavily on my shoulders. I needed to talk to my dad, to figure out what was going on with my frozen accounts and, more importantly, to find a way to help Serena. As I opened the front door, I was greeted by the sound of laughter coming from the living room. My heart sank a little when I recognized Marah's voice mingling with my father's. I walked in to find them sitting together on the couch, engaged in what seemed to be a very lively conversation. Marah's eyes sparkled with amusement, and my father was laughing heartily, a sight that was both comforting and disconcerting. "Dad, can I talk to you for a moment?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even despite the turmoil inside me. My father looked up, his expression shifting from joy to concern as he saw the seriousness on my face. "Of course, son. Excuse me, Marah." Ma
Damian I had just settled into bed, the day's exhaustion finally catching up to me, when my phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw it was Godwin. We hadn't spoken in a while, and the urgency in his voice was palpable the moment I answered. "Damian, it's Serena. She's hurt. I'm rushing her to the hospital. Meet me there in five minutes," he said, not waiting for my response before hanging up. Adrenaline surged through me as I jumped out of bed, grabbed my keys, and raced out of the apartment. My thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and worry. Serena—God, please let her be okay. I couldn't lose her. Not now, not ever. The drive to the hospital was a blur. I barely remember the traffic lights or the turns I took. My mind was entirely focused on getting to Serena as quickly as possible. I prayed silently, hoping against hope that she would be safe, that this was all some terrible misunderstanding. When I arrived at the hospital, I saw Owen running through the door, his face etched
I hesitated outside Damian’s door, holding his cardigan tightly. Sunlight streamed through the hallway windows, casting a warm glow. I wondered if I should leave the cardigan at his door or knock and give it back in person. There was clear tension between us, and Damian’s obvious dislike for me made things a bit more complicated. Just as I was about to turn and leave, the door suddenly opened. My heart skipped a beat as I found myself face-to-face with Damian. He stood there shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose trousers that hung low on his hips. His skin glistened with water droplets from a recent shower, and he was in the process of drying his hair with a towel. I froze in surprise, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight. His bare chest was toned and muscular, the water droplets catching the morning light and making his skin look almost golden. The damp strands of his hair clung to his forehead, and the scent of his soap—a mix of fresh pine and something citrusy—wafted towa
I slipped out of bed, still clutching Damian's cardigan, and tiptoed to the door. Pressing my ear against it, I listened intently, my breath held tight. After a few tense moments, there was another creak, followed by a faint shuffling sound. Someone was definitely out there. My mind raced. Should I open the door and confront whoever it was? Should I call for help? My phone was still on the bedside table, and the idea of leaving the relative safety of my room to fetch it seemed daunting. I decided to peek through the peephole instead, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was lurking outside. I slowly and quietly unlatched the door, opening it just enough to peer through the small glass circle. My blood ran cold as I saw a shadowy figure standing at the end of the hallway. The figure seemed to be looking directly at my door, unmoving and eerie in the dim light. My breath caught in my throat, and I quickly closed the door, locking it as silently as I could. I backed away, my mind raci
Marah The ride up the elevator had been a nightmare, but Damian's presence had been my anchor. Even now, back in my apartment, my heart pounded with residual fear, my hands still shaking as I closed and locked the door behind me. I glanced around my dimly lit living room, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure lurking in the corners. But there was nothing. Just the usual mess of my life scattered across the floor. The cardigan Damian had given me was still wrapped tightly around my shoulders, its warmth and scent providing an unexpected comfort. I buried my nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply. It smelled like him— a mix of sandalwood and something else that was uniquely Damian. The scent was intoxicating, calming my frazzled nerves more than I cared to admit. I kicked off my shoes and wandered into my bedroom, the events of the night playing over and over in my mind. Who had been following me? And why? The fear in Damian's eyes when he saw me must have mirrored my own. He had been
The doors opened, and I stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall. Just as the doors were about to close, they jolted to a stop. Someone had pressed the button in a hurry. The doors slid open again, and there she was—Marah. Her eyes were wide with terror, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She didn't say a word, just hopped in and immediately closed the door behind her. The tension in the air was palpable, and I could feel my heart rate picking up. "Marah, what's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. She shook her head, clutching her arms around herself. "I... I don't know. Something's wrong. I felt like someone was following me." Her fear was contagious, and I found myself scanning the elevator for any signs of danger. The numbers above the door ticked up slowly, and we both watched them in tense silence. Halfway through the ride, the elevator shuddered to a halt. The lights flickered, and then we were plunged into darkness. Marah let out a small,
The evening had been perfect. After a delightful dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, Serena and I decided to extend our time together by having a few glasses of wine at a nearby wine bar. The place was warm and inviting, with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. We found a small table near the window, where the city lights created a picturesque backdrop that added to the intimate atmosphere. As we sipped our wine, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Serena looked relaxed, her guard down for the first time in a while. I couldn't help but take in every detail: the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the way she absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger, the warmth of her smile that seemed to light up the entire room. "This place is lovely," Serena said, taking another sip of her Merlot. "I can't believe I've never been here before." "I'm glad you like it," I replied, swirling my glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. "I thought it might be a nice change
Damian A few days after another awkward encounter with Marah, I decided to visit Serena. It had been a while since we had a proper conversation, and I knew I needed to clear the air. The tension and the unsaid words between us had been gnawing at me, and I couldn't bear it any longer. Plus, I needed to apologize for being distant and explain what had been going on in my life. When I arrived at Serena's place, Mrs. Johnson greeted me warmly at the door, her motherly smile easing some of the tension I felt. "Damian! It's good to see you, dear. Serena is just finishing up in the kitchen. She'll be out in a moment," she said, ushering me inside. I waited in the living room, my thoughts racing. When Serena finally emerged, her face lit up with a smile that made my heart ache. "Hey, Damian. It's been a while," she said, hugging me tightly. "Yeah, it has," I replied, hugging her back. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out tonight. Just the two of us. There's something I need to talk
OwenThe first light of dawn filtered through the curtains as I watched Serena sleep peacefully. Her breathing was steady, and the color had started to return to her cheeks. I had done what I could to keep her safe through the night, but I knew she needed more care than I could provide alone. Carefully, I scooped her up in my arms, her body light and fragile against me, and carried her out to my car. She barely stirred as I settled her into the passenger seat, fastening the seatbelt around her.The drive to her home was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional murmur from Serena. Her house was a modest, two-story building nestled in a quiet neighborhood. The flowerbeds in front were meticulously cared for, which showed her mother's love for gardening. I parked in the driveway, took a deep breath, and gently lifted Serena from the car.Her mother, Mrs. Johnson, opened the door before I could knock. Her eyes widened with worry as she saw Serena in my arms. "