"So, you're telling me that Sofia called you and informed you that Henry was at her apartment, rummaging for evidence against his father," I inquire, leaning forward with keen interest.
Ashby nods solemnly, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Winner, winner, chicken dinner."
My brow furrows in confusion. "Why didn't Henry tell me?"
Ashby offers a nonchalant shrug, his expression betraying no hint of concern. "Take it up with him."
With a resigned sigh, I slump back against the cushions, defeated. "What is it going to take for him to respect me?"
"It's not you, he doesn't respect, it's himself," Archie interjects, his tone tinged with a hint of symp
As Archie helps me inside, the familiar warmth of home wraps around me, yet it feels hollow. The muted glow of the lamps casts soft light across the living room, where Meryl and Nana are seated, their conversations falling silent as I enter. Their faces shift from calm curiosity to shock and concern the moment they see me. It's as if the weight of what's happened seeps into the room, thickening the air.Aunt Linda, her sharp eyes widening with worry, rushes towards me. "What happened?" she asks, her voice tight with alarm.Archie stands beside me, his jaw clenched, an unspoken fury simmering beneath the surface. "Henry, he—" he begins but stops as if struggling to say the words.Meryl closes her eyes, the gesture slow and resigned, as though she already knows what'
The car ride back to the estate is thick with silence. Chris grips the steering wheel, knuckles white against the leather, and I sit slumped in the passenger seat, drowning in the weight of my thoughts. The pain sits heavy in my chest, gnawing at me, making it hard to breathe. Guilt twists my stomach into knots. I keep replaying the moment over and over—the look on Penny's face when she caught me, the betrayal in her eyes, the way her voice broke when she told me to leave. I thought I had escaped the kind of life that leads to moments like these. I thought she'd be the one to help me rewrite my story.But I ruined it. I ruined us.I stared out the window at the shadowy trees rushing by the road winding toward the one place I swore I'd never return to. Back then, leaving felt like breaking
The past two weeks had felt like an endless loop of heartache and frustration, as though I was living in a bad dream that refused to let me wake. Ever since the breakup with Henry made headlines, the world outside had become too overwhelming. I was suffocating beneath the weight of my own emotions and the relentless attention from reporters, journalists, and even strangers who were all eager to pry into the details of my private life. I stopped answering calls altogether, letting my phone buzz uselessly across the room as I buried myself beneath blankets and tried to block out the world.Henry had gone silent, too. There were no signs of him anywhere—no statements, no pictures splashed across the gossip sites, no sightings at any of his usual haunts. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, and a part of me wondered if he felt the same choking pressure I did, hiding away
"Henry, for God's sake, turn off that dreaded song! It's been two days!" Chris's voice boomed from outside my door, sounding more exasperated than usual.Careless Whisper had been playing on repeat for forty-eight hours straight, filling the room with its haunting saxophone melody. It was the only thing that made sense right now, the only sound that matched the broken rhythm of my heart. The rest of the world was a jarring cacophony I didn't want to hear."Don't make me call Mom," Chris threatened, his tone taking on that authoritative edge that always managed to get through to me.Shit. I reached for the remote and silenced the music.There was a moment of silence before Chris spoke again, his voice softer this tim
Two days later, I decided it was time to face the person I had hurt the most. I reached out to Penny, not knowing if she'd even want to hear from me. To my surprise, she agreed to meet. It felt like a small victory, though it came with the overwhelming weight of knowing that I had to face the consequences of my actions. I didn't expect her to take me back—how could I, after everything? But I needed her forgiveness. I needed to look her in the eye and admit my wrongs. Maybe, just maybe, we could find some sort of closure.We arranged to meet at a private location—an old park on the outskirts of town. It was one of those places with quiet trails winding through groves of oak trees, where the ground was carpeted in fallen leaves that crunched softly underfoot. The park had once been a favourite spot for us; we'd spent countless afternoons here, lying on the grass, watchin
Epilogue: Not All Love Stories Have Happy EndingsNot every love story is destined to end with a romantic reunion or a picture-perfect ending. Some love stories are lessons, shaping the people we become and teaching us to value ourselves. For Henry and Penny, the end of their relationship wasn't the end of their growth—it was the beginning. As they stepped away from each other, they carried with them the hard-earned understanding that true healing often requires letting go.Henry's struggle was not only about losing Penny, but also about facing the deeper wounds he had been carrying since childhood. Growing up, he witnessed his father's toxic behaviours—manipulation, control, and neglect—which shaped his understanding of relationships. Unconsciously, he adopted some of those same behaviours, which ultimately led to the breakdown of his relationship with Penny. His inability to prioritize her and listen to her cries for support reflect
"Come in, Godfrey." The room, adorned with classic furnishings and antique fixtures, takes on a subdued ambiance as the middle-aged man gracefully enters. His splendid hair, neatly gelled, exudes an air of meticulous grooming, adding to the pomp and circumstance that always surrounds him. "Your father is here to see you." I exhale audibly, a subtle roll of my eyes betraying my reluctance. "I'll be down in a moment." "Okay, sir," Godfrey acknowledges, his voice carrying an undertone of deference. He turns around, adding with formality, "Your highness." The room, draped in regal tapestries and bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting, holds an air of restrained opulence. The scent of aged leather and polished mahogany furniture lingers as Godfrey makes his exit, leaving the room with a quiet sense of anticipation. I finish the remainder of my whiskey, its rich amber hue reflecting the subdued elegance of the surroundings. Slipping into a silk Gucci robe, I take a moment to relish
1. PENELOPE A cacophony of disco lights, neon hues, and pulsating music – a scene I vehemently despise with every fibre of my being. It's an aversion uncommon for a 24-year-old, a preference for the solace of indoor comforts. Given the choice, I'd opt for the warmth of N*****x and the embrace of a gripping crime novel, accompanied by the soothing tones of Lo-fi chill music. Tonight, however, marks a deviation from my usual sanctuary.My steadfast companion, Sophia, had yanked me from the familiar confines of my haven on a Tuesday night, disrupting the rhythm of a typical workweek. The question of why I maintain such a friendship persists, and the answer echoes clearly – love."Having fun?" Sophia inquires, her eyebrows wiggling mischievously.I frown, my reluctance evident. "No."Hoping my lack of enthusiasm would be persuasive enough for her to usher me home, I anticipate a reprieve. Instead, Sophia rolls her eyes, dismissing my resistance. "You are such a drip. Let me go get