Novels by Desire July

♥ AZALEA'S POV ♥7pm couldn't come any quicker.After putting the address he sent on maps, I was standing in front of the restaurant at the outskirts of town. I looked down at my outfit. A plain black crop tee and high waist jeans. I let out a deep sigh then walked into the restaurant.It didn't take me long to spot them. Far corner, tucked into a booth, Jasmine waving both arms like she was flagging down a rescue plane. Raymond sat beside her, and when he turned and found me across the room, something in his expression softened.I crossed the floor, suddenly too aware of my own body, of the years I'd spent making myself small in rooms full of people. But nobody here looked twice. A few heads turned, glanced, moved on."YOU CAME!" Jasmine practically climbed over the table. "I told Raymond you wouldn't come. I said she's probably busy and she has a life and she doesn't want to hang out with a twelve-year-old—""And I told her she was being dramatic," Raymond said, standing to pull out

♥ AZALEA'S POV ♥Martha was waiting at the door before I'd even made it up the steps."Where have you been?" She grabs my shoulders, eyes scanning me like she's checking for injuries. "You said you were going for a walk. A walk, Azalea. Not a marathon through a sandstorm."I look down at myself. Sand clings to my sweater, my hair, the inside of my shoes. I can feel grit in places I don't want to think about."I got chased by a dog.""A dog." Her eyebrow arches. "A dog did that to you?""A big dog. Scary dog. I ran.""Into the beach, apparently." She pulls me inside, brushing sand off my shoulders with aggressive maternal energy. "Sit. Tell me everything. And I mean everything."I sink onto the edge of the bed while Martha grabs two glasses of water from the kitchenette. I tell her about the dog, the running, the fence.And Raymond."Oh." Martha sets her glass down slowly. "Oh, I see. The handsome hospital man followed you to the middle of nowhere.""He transferred schools. For work. I

♥ RAYMOND'S POV ♥The taxi pulls up to the lodge and I step out, suitcase in hand, the sea air hitting me like a cold slap.I stand there for a moment, looking up at the building. It's smaller than I expected—weathered grey wood, a sagging porch, windows that have seen better decades. The sea stretches out beyond it, grey and restless, the sky the same colour as the water."This is it," I mutter to myself, dragging my suitcase toward the entrance.The lodge is simple inside. A narrow bed. A desk. A kitchenette that looks like it's been used maybe twice in the last ten years. I drop my suitcase by the door, stretch my arms over my head, and decide I need to move. Stretch my legs. Clear my head.I've been thinking about this moment for weeks—the transfer, the proximity, the chance to see her again. I told myself it was strategic. Practical. She needed someone watching out for her, and I happened to be in a position to do it.I'm a terrible liar.The path behind the lodge winds along the

♥ ELIAS'S POV ♥"I don't understand why she's still in the capital."My mother's sharp voice cuts through the dining room like a blade, the way she speaks about everything that displeases her. She's seated across from me at the long mahogany table, her posture perfect, her silver hair swept back in the elegant knot she's worn my entire life. The chandelier above us catches the diamonds at her throat, scattering light across the room like tiny, indifferent stars."She should have been sent to that school already," she continues, lifting her wine glass with fingers that never tremble. "The longer she lingers, the more the pack talks. Do you understand how embarrassing this is for your father? For me?"I don't answer. I'm pushing food around my plate, the roast beef growing cold beneath my fork, my appetite having abandoned me somewhere between the first course and the second."Elias." Her voice sharpens. "Are you even listening to me?""Yes, Mother." The words come out flat, automatic.

♥ AZALEA'S POV ♥The teacher's lodge is smaller than I expected.Not cruel, exactly. Just... nothing. A single room with a narrow bed, a desk pushed against the wall, a kitchenette that looks like it's seen maybe three occupants in the last decade. The window faces a stretch of grey sea, the sky heavy with clouds that match the weight in my chest.My father didn't even step inside. He pulled up, cut the engine, and said, "This is where you'll be staying. The school's expecting you in two months. Don't contact the family until the scandal dies down."Then he drove away.I'm standing in the middle of the room, still in the clothes I was discharged in—a pair of sweatpants Martha found for me, an oversized sweater that smells like hospital laundry. The IV port is still taped to my arm. I haven't had the strength to remove it."I ought to kill him," Martha says from behind me, her voice tight and controlled in the way that means she's genuinely furious. "I'm going to—""Martha." I turn to

♥ RAYMOND'S POV ♥The administrative office smells like stale coffee and desperation, which Karl informs me is the natural perfume of any institution that processes paperwork for a living."You're enjoying this way too much," I mutter, signing my name on the final form. "This is the fifth time I've written my name on something that says the exact same thing as the first four forms.""Welcome to education, my friend." Karl leans back in his chair, feet propped on a filing cabinet that looks older than both of us combined. "Where the paperwork multiplies faster than the students you're supposedly here to teach. Remind me why you wanted this transfer again?""Because my brother—""Your brother asked you to do strategy work from the capital. That's not the same as teaching maths to teenagers who would rather be anywhere else." Karl's grin is insufferable. "You could've just taken an office job. A nice, quiet, paperwork-free—""I like teaching." I say it flatly, which makes Karl laugh hard