روايات بقلم Press Michelle

He looked like a hunter who wasn’t done stalking his prey. Gina’s gut twisted, a flicker of unease creeping in. With a grin so smug it practically dripped with arrogance. “Been looking all over for you. Thought you could hide from me in this little corner, huh? Seems I found your little hiding spot.” Gina’s smile was razor-thin. “Why were you looking for me?” her voice cool but edged with irritation. Jack puffed up, clearly thinking he was about to charm her socks off. “Oh, great question. Name’s Jack, by the way, I own this club,” he boasted, like that was supposed to make her swoon. “Earlier, I ditched a big meeting just to dance with you. Spotted you from the VIP lounge and... well, I couldn’t resist. And boy, was I right! We were the best pair on that floor stealing the show. I’d love to do it again sometime.” Gina arched an eyebrow, unimpressed, her patience already wearing thin. “Sorry, Jack, but I’m not available.” He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with a cocky edge th

Her eyes flew widened in a jolt of panic as she fumbled for her phone and caught the time glaring back at her: 11:00 p.m. Her breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as the weight of the night crashed down. She’d lost herself in the music, the wine, the fleeting thrill of it all. How did time slip away like that? Panic prickled under her skin her fingers flew across the screen, scrolling for missed calls from Martin, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread. But to her dismay; nothing. Not even a single call. Her chest tightened, with disappointment. A hot spark of anger mingling with defiance flared in her chest. Really, Martin? Not even one damn call? Not even to check if I’m alive? Meanwhile, outside the pulsing club, Mia’s protests echoed as Maurice practically dragged her toward the car, she fought him, twisting in his hold, she kept throwing frantic glances back at the neon-lit building, torn between her loyalty to Gina and Maurice’s unyielding grip. “Wait,

Maurice couldn’t be bothered about him, rather his focus was fixed entirely on Mia, his wife, his pride, his one weakness. Even with her face hidden behind oversized sunglasses, she exuded quiet elegance. Her poise, her composure, she stood out effortlessly in the chaos of flashing lights and heavy bass. Maurice almost smiled. Those sunglasses were a blessing; if anyone had seen the full beauty of the woman he called his own, he might’ve had to start a war to get her back. Both men watched as Mia tried, again and again, to reason with Gina. Mia was putting in a valiant effort, her frustration etched across her brow as she tried to drag Gina out of the club's throbbing pulse. But Gina? Stubborn as a mule, she dug in her heels and flat-out refused. Eventually, Mia threw in the towel with a heavy sigh, and sank into a nearby seat, crossing her legs and keeping a watchful, almost protective eye on her friend from afar. Maurice leaned closer to Martin, his voice low and teasin

Radiant Rebels.The following morning brightness filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a pale, unforgiving light across the bedroom where Gina sat on the edge of the bed, her bare skin wrapped in a soft white sheet that still held the warmth of their night together. Her curls spilled messily over her shoulders, framing a face caught between hope and heartbreak as she bit her lower lip, the sting grounding her swirling thoughts. The sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting the room in gold, but all she felt was cold. She watched Martin in silence as he buttoned his crisp shirt, his every movement controlled and deliberate. He adjusted his cufflinks with mechanical precision, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even glance at her, at least, not for long. When his eyes did meet hers, it was only for a second, a fleeting, detached look that left her feeling smaller than ever. Then, without a word, he walked out. The door clicked shut

Twilight Tension, Sudden Spark The morning sun slipped through the gauzy curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom, painting the walls in a warm, hopeful light. Martin stirred, the familiar weight of Gina’s warmth nestled against him, her head resting on his chest like an anchor in their stormy marriage. He yawned, ready to slip into his usual routine, coffee, work, control, but as he moved to rise, something stopped him. Gina’s steady breaths, calm and even, held him in place, her presence a quiet melody against the chaos of their night. Carefully, he lifted her head, sliding it onto a pillow with a tenderness that surprised him, her dark curls spilling across the linen like a work of art. She slept on, peaceful, untouched by their earlier fire, and Martin paused, intending only a glance.That glance stretched into a lingering gaze, his breath catching as he truly saw her, really saw her, for the first time. Gina’s flushed face, serene in sleep, was breathtaking

He reached out a hand, the gesture tentative, his eyes searching hers for the first sign of a truce, the storm outside mirroring the one raging in their hearts. The words lingered in the air, charged, daring, electric. Outside, the rain hammered harder against the windows, the storm echoing the rising tension between them. Gina glared at him, her lips parting to speak, but the next clap of thunder cracked through the room like a broken ice. She flinched and, before she realized what she was doing, threw herself into Martin’s arms. Her heart pounded wildly as she clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt hard, and her eyes tightly shut. When she finally dared to look up, she froze. She was pressed against him, her body molded to his, her breath trembling between them. “I got the message, wifey,” Martin murmured with a teasing smirk. “Don’t you dare blame me for what happens next.” Before she could think of a comeback, he leaned in and kissed her, firm, sure, unapologetic.