All Chapters of HER PERFECT RUIN, HIS PERFECT REDEMPTION: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

|•| DESIRÉE DOYLE |•|"Awww, don't worry, sweetheart. It's all going to be over soon."Those two sentences—the last line of the chapter of the book I was currently reading, which had me hooked—echoed in my head. It thinned out the incessant chatters of the Café customers and the soft music in the background.The noise, which got under my skin, dissipated into nothingness, replaced by the words, which seemed to amplify my curiosity the more I dwelled on it. It rendered me restless and absentminded. A slimy substance splashed all over my face abruptly, filtering into my eyes and it had me blinking rapidly at the stinging sensation it left inside of them.I dropped the sponge in my hands, bringing them to my eyes to wipe the liquid off, but the stinging sensation only worsened.The mocking giggles that filled the air gave me an inkling of what was going on. Goddammit.I pried my eyes open. They watered effortlessly because of how badly they stung, but I didn't snap them shut. My eyes lan

|•| DESIRÉE DOYLE |•|I sprinted into the Café, nearly knocking a customer over her feet. The redhead woman cast me a disgruntled look, and walked past me, but not without muttering some incoherent words. I didn't get a chance to apologise because I was struggling to catch my breath while adjusting the strap of my bag around my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, brushing my unpacked hair off my sweaty face. Then, I drew in a long breath and dragged it out slowly.My breathing was a little stable but it was still coming out in pants. I used that opportunity to allow my eyes to wander around the bustling Café in search of Tania. When I didn't see her, relief washed over me because I wouldn't want her deducting my pay. And with that, I skipped over to the counter. Charlotte moved away from the espresso machine, rushing over to me with furrowed brows."Des, you are late." Her tone was a little chiding and I sighed."I am sorry. I had an impromptu test." I answe

|•| DESIRÉE' DOYLE |•|Half the class had engaged themselves in something else that wasn't listening to the professor by the projector. It was as though he was ranting non-stop. A few minutes ago, before I got immersed in what I was doing, I had overheard two students flirting behind me and it was so cringe.It made my skin crawl with disgust.The murmurings that lingered in the air, coupled with the aggressive taps of fingers against the keyboard were very distracting and I found the sound upsetting because it kept invading my thoughts, diverting my attention elsewhere.I propped my jaw on my elbow, navigating my cursor on the news site I was currently in. As I scrolled past each paragraph, I could feel my heart being ripped to shreds, clenching in pain at the sight of the dead girl, whose picture had gone viral.Her cause of death was said to be an animal attack and it had me peering at the picture since because I was torn between believing the fact that it was truly an animal atta

|•| DESIRÉE DOYLE |•|The clicking of my pen got louder as I chewed on my lips, staring at the papers that were strewn on my legs, given as I was seated in a monk style in the front seat of Iris'car.There were tons of them on my lap but my attention was slashed. Heck, I was barely paying attention to what I was struggling to piece together and it had me wondering if I didn't make a colossal mistake wearing a Grey sweater.My mind was torn between the colour of my sweater, alongside the thoughts that came with it and the papers before me. The incessant clicking of my pen was to keep me in the loop but even the sound was beginning to sound so distant.All I could make out on the papers were a pair of intense Grey eyes that flashed in my mind, now and then. It was so vivid. It felt like he was staring back at him and every single thought of him kept resurfacing.I was so baffled about his sudden disappearance at the Café and if I didn't know any better, I would say I was losing my mind.

|•| DESIRÉE DOYLE |•|"John Keats' Ode to a Nightingale is dominated by the perception of the conflicted nature of human life. . ." The voice of the female professor, who had her blonde hair tamed in an overly tight bun, thinned out.As my manicured fingers tapped against the surface of the desk impatiently, her face slowly blurred and the only thing I could see was the movement of her bright red lipstick and the gesticulations she made with her hands. I shifted in my seat for the umpteenth time, my eyes darting to and fro the theatre as a wave of paranoia engulfed me, consuming me from the inside out. The intense dread that washed over me had me throwing my head in different directions, now and then.And when my eyes singled her out in the room, I stopped breathing and my fingers grew shakier at the sight of the sadistic smirk that crawled up her lips. Cold sweat broke out on my skin and my stomach churned with nerves. The walls of the theatre felt like they were closing in on me, m