tonia의 작품

Daniella’s POV. I had already started thinking of the possible things that Theo would have sent. I'd already started guessing what Theo might’ve sent. I grab my phone, and I might as well end the torture. It was from Theo, but not that Theo. I hadn’t spoken to this sorry excuse for a man in years. Everyone has that one ex they loved like a fool. He was mine. Three years ago, I was head over heels for him. Six times, he cheated, guys, girls, didn’t matter. I stayed. I don’t know what kind of spell he had on me, but it was strong as hell. We still had those moments after the breakup, random meetups that ended with clothes flying. So when I saw his " I miss you" text, I knew exactly what it meant. He was bored. And maybe I was, too. I texted back: Come over. I need something to ease my body and relieve my stress. And maybe getting laid is the best thing I need right now. Thirty minutes later, a knock. I open the door, same cologne, same stupidly beautiful face, and before

THEO’S POV. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen my guy Alex. Maybe he’s been avoiding me. Maybe not. Doesn’t really matter. The elevator hums low as it climbs, a single light flickering above me. I’ve been here more times than I can count, so the ride feels automatic. Ding. Doors slide open into Alex’s apartment. He’s sitting on the couch, one arm stretched over the backrest, phone in hand, half-watching something on the TV. He doesn’t even flinch when he sees me. he just lets that lazy grin slip across his face. “Well, look who decided to visit,” he says. “Didn’t know you remembered my address.” I smirk, step out fully. “I figured you were forgetting mine, so I had to make the effort.” “Fair point.” He stands, running a hand through his hair. “What’s up?” “Nothing much.” I nod toward the bar in the corner. “You got anything good?” "Always." I cross the room and grab the Hennessy from its usual spot, pull down two glasses, and pour both halfway. I hand him a

OLIVIA’S POV.I had never thought that I'd see the day that I would be standing in the middle of the room I once called home. My former sanctuary. I've been wallowing in the past, and when I had relived the death of my father, I thought, "What wouldn't I re experience." But this came a shock to me. It feels like I'm starting my life all over again. From when I was little to Daniella and I and now this. Important pieces of my life that have shaped me into who I am. Five years ago, I would have killed to be in this house. But now, it is a reminder of my past mistakes, my burden, the genesis of everything. Where Alex and I once lived. Tears roll down my eye as I look around the room. Every piece of furniture, ever painting, every item in this apartment had a memory attached to it. A floorboard creaks behind me, though I know no one is there.I turn anyway, half expecting Alex to stroll in with that crooked grin, a plastic bag of gas station snacks swinging from his wrist.But nothing

I apologise for the ridiculously long chapters earlier, I didn't want to drag on a few emotions into other chapters. Bear with me.

THEO’S POV. The office is a sheet of glass suspended over rain. From my desk, the city lies below in streaks of wet neon tail lights stretched into red ribbons, tower cranes blinking against low clouds. Rain needles the windows hard enough to blur the skyline, soft enough to keep me anchored here. The building’s HVAC hums like a low tuned cello. Everyone else has gone home; their absence presses into the carpet, the silence between elevator chimes. Only the cleaning crew remains, and a faint vacuum drone several floors down. Midnight is closing in, and I’m still wired. Two monitors spill light across the desk. One shows the quarterly projections; the other, a chain of emails from Singapore where it’s already morning. Contracts to revise, numbers to grind. I roll my shoulders, feel the knots tighten instead of loosening. The rain sharpens. Each drop hits the glass with a muted click. The sound is strangely soothing steady percussion under the restless city beat. I rub my eye

OLIVIA’S POV I am walking into the unknown. I just kept moving. The air carries the sharp tang of disinfectant and something warmer, like linen that’s been ironed. The corridor stretches ahead in a straight, endless line. White walls. Square ceiling tiles. Every few feet, a framed print: muted landscapes, washed-out blues, and greens. Someone once decided these pictures would soothe people waiting for good news or bracing for bad. I glide past the first door. A low hum seeps through, the quiet murmur of nurses’ voices. The sound folds around me like a thin blanket. A cart squeaks somewhere far off, rubber wheels over linoleum, and the faint hiss of an oxygen line whispers from behind a closed curtain. All of it is so ordinary that it borders on comforting. I trail my fingertips along the wall. The paint is cool and faintly gritty. My nails make the lightest rasp, a sound swallowed by the overhead buzz of fluorescent bulbs. I pause beneath a vent, feeling a soft breath of ai