awfultendenc1の小説

Celeste’s POV“You’re saying you need money beforehand?”Killian's voice sliced through the silence like a scalpel—precise, indifferent. His chair creaked as he leaned back, forearms resting on the arms like a judge presiding over a case that didn’t quite interest him.“You haven’t done any work yet.”I stood across from him, every muscle in my body stiff from lack of sleep and tension I couldn’t shake. The air in his office was too still, too clean, and I felt like a smear on polished glass. My coat was wrinkled. My blouse stuck to the sweat along my spine. My hair was barely tied into a bun, strands already falling loose and brushing against my hollow cheeks.I probably looked like a disaster.But I wasn’t here to impress him.I was here because I didn’t have a choice.“I know how it sounds,” I said, forcing my voice to hold steady even though everything inside me was crumbling. “And I know I haven’t earned anything from you. But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent.”Killian didn’t b

Celeste's POVThe wind hit me the moment the elevator doors slid closed behind me. Sharp. Cold. Like the universe had decided to slap me back into reality.I didn’t even realize I was outside until my heels clicked against the sidewalk, the city pressing in around me like noise I couldn’t hear.I clutched my coat tighter, but it wasn’t the cold making me shiver.It was him.Killian Vale.I had no idea what I was supposed to feel. Was I scared? Ashamed? Furious? I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell. Everything inside me was pulling in opposite directions, and I was just trying not to fall apart in the middle of the damn sidewalk.He remembered me. Not just my face. Not just that night. He remembered I disappeared.That was the part that stuck to my ribs like broken glass. I was supposed to be forgettable. A blur in a sea of women he probably saw in passing. Instead, he looked at me like a question that never got answered.And now?Now I had no idea what came next.My phone rang.The sound ne

Celeste's POVFour dollars and twenty-six cents.That was all I had left.I stared at the worn bills and coins in my wallet like they’d suddenly multiply if I looked sad enough. But the numbers didn’t change, and the ache in my stomach wasn’t going to wait politely until payday.I dropped onto the bench outside a tiny plaza building, my resume folder sliding off my lap and onto the seat beside me. My shoes were worn, my legs ached, and I was too exhausted to cry. I’d spent the entire day walking around downtown, knocking on every business door I could find, practically begging someone to take a chance on me.But I wasn’t qualified enough. Or experienced enough. Or available full-time enough. Or God forbid, 'professional-looking' enough with the tired circles under my eyes and anxiety bleeding into every word I said.I pressed my palm to my face and let out a long breath. My stomach growled again.No food. No coffee. Just disappointment and a pounding headache.“Hey,” a voice said, war

Celeste's POVSmoke filled the air like fog, thick and acrid, staining the sky an ugly gray. Red lights flashed against the street, the blare of sirens finally silencing as the fire trucks pulled into place. Crowds had gathered, students and locals standing in clusters, watching the heart of our campus slowly get swallowed by flame.The library.Our library.I held Eden close, my arms around her as she sobbed into my shoulder, her cries drowned out by the hiss of water from the fire hoses. Firefighters moved with sharp precision, shouting commands, dragging lines, spraying down the still-smoking entrance. But the damage was already done.The place was gone.Burned from the inside out.Books, archives, community donations—destroyed.“Why is this happening?” Eden choked out. “God, this can’t be real. Please tell me this isn’t real.”My throat was tight. My eyes burned, not just from the smoke. “I know,” I whispered. “I know. I’m sorry.”She cried harder, her body trembling under my arms

Celeste's POVIt was supposed to be over.A mistake, a one-night lapse in judgment I could shove into the back of my mind and pretend never happened. I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t think about it, at least, not out loud. I buried it under deadlines and shifts, under tuition fees and grocery lists.And for a while, I convinced myself it worked.Killian Vale was a ghost. An echo of a night I couldn’t afford to remember. He lived in high-rises and flew first class to boardrooms in Europe. I lived in a shoebox apartment and counted every dollar before buying rice. He belonged to boardroom wars and billion dollar mergers. I belonged to late-night bus rides and bulk instant noodles.He was the sky.I was dirt.I had no place in his world, and he sure as hell didn’t belong in mine.That night didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. He didn’t even remember me. He probably didn’t even notice I was gone the next morning.And I had done the smart thing.I ran.But now, as I gripped the edges of a c

Celeste's POVMy head was pounding. Not the dull ache of a headache you get from too little sleep, but the kind that made it feel like my skull was too tight for my brain.A groan escaped my lips as I blinked against the sunlight pouring in from a massive glass window. My vision blurred, then cleared, and panic took its place.This wasn’t my room.Silk sheets, marble floors, an open-concept space that looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine. My breathing picked up as I pushed myself up on trembling elbows.The sheets slipped off my bare skin.Oh god.I was naked.My heart slammed against my ribs. I forced myself to look to my right, where a tall figure was asleep—peacefully, undisturbed. Dark hair splayed against the pillow. Long lashes casting shadows on sharp cheekbones. A broad chest rising and falling with every breath.A man.A man I didn’t know.Everything in me screamed. I yanked the sheet to cover myself and scrambled out of the bed. Clothes. I needed to find my clothes.

The office was shifting. I could feel it.For the past few weeks, I had been subtly exposing Lili, planting small seeds of doubt in our coworkers' minds. At first, they didn’t notice. They were too used to her sweet act, her innocent smile, her carefully crafted lies.But people weren’t stupid forever.Lili was starting to lose control of the narrative she had built so well.I could see it in the way some of our colleagues hesitated before believing her words, how they double-checked their emails when she gave them instructions, how they exchanged subtle looks whenever she made another “accidental” mistake that put me in a difficult position.She was unraveling, and she knew it.Today, her patience was running thin.“You know, Tasia,” Lili said as she leaned against my desk, smiling, “I was just talking to the manager about the quarterly report. He said it wasn’t quite right. Did you double-check the numbers?”I glanced up from my computer, already sensing her game.“Yes, I did,” I sa

The office was a battlefield, but no one else seemed to realize it except me.Lili had mastered the art of deception, wearing a mask so flawlessly that most people didn’t see the venom beneath her smile. But I did. I saw everything.She was careful, never outright cruel—at least not in ways that could be proven. Her attacks came in subtle jabs, small inconveniences that could be brushed off as mistakes, miscommunications, or even helpful corrections.But I wasn’t stupid.She was trying to make me look incompetent.And I refused to let her win.I walked into the office, the usual hum of conversation filling the space as people bustled around. The moment I stepped into my department, I felt eyes on me. Lili was already seated at her desk, scrolling through emails like she hadn’t been waiting for me to arrive just so she could start something.“Morning, Tasia,” she called out, her voice overly sweet.I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Morning, Lili.”Her eyes gleamed as she leaned back in

By the time I got home, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.The day had drained me—working with Lili had never been easy, but today she had gone out of her way to make things worse. The subtle sabotage, the carefully placed jabs, the way she pretended we were friends in front of everyone else—it all made my blood boil.But more than anything, it made me tired.I dropped my bag near the door and sighed, running a hand through my hair as I stepped into the living room.Asher was there.Seated on the couch, his tie loosened, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, half-finished. He looked up when I entered, his sharp gaze scanning my face.“You’re late,” he said simply.I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah.”I walked over and sank onto the couch across from him, stretching my legs out as the exhaustion settled deeper.Asher set his glass down, watching me. “Rough day?”I exhaled, nodding. “You could say that.”His brows furrowed sligh

Working with Lili was exactly what I expected—a nightmare in disguise.Since she was tasked with guiding me, she took every opportunity to make me look stupid.But in front of others?She played the role of the perfect friend.A concerned mentor. A supportive colleague. A helpful senior.She was so convincing that, if I didn’t know any better, I might have believed it.Except I did know better.Because behind the fake smiles, the soft reassurances, and the friendly tone—Lili was calculating.She knew exactly what she was doing.And so did I.It started small.On my second day, I had to submit my first report—a simple summary of the team's current projects. Claire had given me a rundown, and I had worked on it all morning, making sure it was polished and professional.I sent it in, confident that it was at least decent.But an hour later, Claire called me into her office.I barely had time to sit before she sighed, sliding a copy of my report across the desk.“This is… incomplete, Anas

The following days were a blur.Dinner with Asher’s family had left me drained, and the tension between us afterward had stretched on longer than I expected.Asher was cold.Not in a cruel way, but in a way that reminded me of how he was before we got comfortable with each other. He kept his distance, retreating behind that quiet wall of indifference.And I let him.Because I still didn’t understand what had happened that night with the roses.Or why he had been so angry.The memory of his voice—sharp, cutting—lingered in my mind.Who gave you the right to touch the garden?I had tried to bring it up in the car, but he had shut me out completely, as if the topic itself was forbidden.And because he refused to bring it up, I did too.Besides, as the days passed, the coldness between us gradually disappeared.At first, it was subtle.Small things.Like how he w

The car ride was tense.I hadn’t expected it to be any different, not after the way Asher shut me down this morning. But still, I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, we could talk.That maybe he would explain.That maybe I would understand.I turned my head slightly, glancing at him. His fingers were curled loosely around the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, his jaw set in that unreadable way he always had when he didn’t want to show what he was feeling.I hesitated for a moment, debating if I should try.Then, finally, I took a breath.“Asher.”He didn’t respond.I swallowed, shifting slightly in my seat. “About the flowers—”“We’re not talking about that.”His voice was calm. Cold. Final.I frowned. “But—”“I said no.”His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white.I stared at him, frustration bubbling in my chest. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry—”His jaw clenched.I stopped, realizing that if I kept pushing, I wouldn’t get anything.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”Margot shoved a bundle of green onions into the cart like they’d personally offended her.I kept my eyes on the list in my hand, scanning for garlic. “It’s not that big of a deal.”“Oh, it’s a huge deal,” she shot back. “We are currently grocery shopping because you decided—based on advice from a man you’ve known for what, five minutes?—to cook for your emotionally-constipated husband who hasn’t been home in days.”I reached for a can of peeled tomatoes and dropped it into the cart. “He was just trying to help.”“Uh-huh. And now I’m elbow-deep in parsley because some mysterious café guy told you to ‘try differently.’”I smiled a little. “You remember exactly what he said.”“I remember nonsense when I hear it,” Margot muttered, adding basil to the cart anyway.I sighed. “Daniel wasn’t being preachy. He was being… decent. That’s rare.”She didn’t argue with that. Instead, she picked up a pack of pasta and raised an eyebrow. “Fettucine?”I nodded

Julian hadn’t come home in three days.He didn’t leave a note. No call. No apology. But then, he never did.I didn’t bother asking anymore. We were long past the point of pretending.The penthouse had been too quiet for too long. I had grown used to the hum of silence, but today it felt different. Heavy. Suffocating. It was the kind of silence that made you want to scream just to hear something human.So I left.No one stopped me. I didn’t need to explain where I was going—not that Julian would care. The elevator ride down felt like a slow descent into reality. One where I still existed, still breathed, still had the right to take up space.I wandered for a while, letting the city wrap around me in its usual blur of honking taxis and overheard conversations. Eventually, I found myself at that same little café, tucked between a bookstore and a shoe repair shop.The bell over the door chimed as I stepped inside.And there he was.Daniel.Sitting by the window again, a pencil in one hand

The next morning, I woke up feeling the same way I always did these days: heavy. It was as though lead had pooled in my chest overnight, weighing me down before I’d even had the chance to face the day. I stared at the ceiling for a few moments, letting the dim light filtering through the curtains wash over me. The silence of the penthouse made my ears ring. It was remarkable how loud nothingness could be.I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples before I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My toes brushed against the cool hardwood floor, and for a moment, I let myself stay like that—feet grounded, head bowed, trying to summon the strength to face another day.The memory of last night’s gala replayed in my mind like a cruel highlight reel. The forced smiles, the whispers behind our backs, Julian’s cold, detached presence by my side. And then that moment in the living room when I’d dared to ask him why he married me. His answer had been as cutting as it was predictable. “Because it was c

The car ride back to the penthouse was cloaked in an oppressive silence. The city lights blurred past the window as I stared out, my head resting against the cool glass. I could feel Julian’s presence beside me, distant yet heavy, like a storm cloud lingering on the horizon. He didn’t speak, and neither did I. What was there to say? We were two strangers bound by a contract, pretending to be a couple in love for the benefit of the world. The charade was exhausting, and tonight had drained me of whatever strength I had left. My gaze shifted slightly, catching his reflection in the window. He sat straight, his posture impeccable, his jaw set in that infuriatingly stern way that made him seem untouchable. His green eyes were fixed ahead, unreadable as always. I wondered what he was thinking. Did he feel the same suffocating weight I did? Or was he so detached that none of this affected him at all? The car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the building, and Julian was out before I coul

The ballroom was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The Blackwood charity gala was everything I had expected it to be—grand, opulent, and utterly suffocating. Hundreds of guests in designer gowns and tailored suits drifted through the space, their movements as polished as the marble floors beneath their feet. It was a performance, a carefully orchestrated ballet of wealth and influence, and I was the reluctant dancer at its center. Julian’s hand rested lightly on my lower back as he guided me through the crowd, a gesture that looked intimate but was anything but. His touch was impersonal, like I was just another accessory to complement his perfectly tailored tuxedo. To these people, we were the perfect power couple, the Blackwoods in all their shining glory. But beneath the glittering facade, the cracks in our foundation were deep and irreparable. “Smile,” Julian murmured under his breath, his voice low enough that on

Elena I DIDN’T EXPECT him to come home before eight. Julian had a habit of disappearing into meetings that blurred into late nights, returning only after I’d stopped waiting up. So when I heard the lock click just past six, I nearly dropped my mascara wand. He stepped inside the penthouse like he always did—silent, assured, detached. But this time, he stopped in his tracks. I stood in the living room, already dressed for dinner. Black silk clung to me like quiet defiance. Earrings in, lipstick fresh, heels laced on. Not for him. Not even for the event. Just for me. For the version of me who still believed she had some control over how this story would unfold. His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read. “You’re dressed,” he said, voice low with a hint of something sharp. I turned to face him, voice calm. “Callum mentioned the dinner.” His jaw twitched. “Callum,” he repeated, like the name alone offended him. I straightened my posture. I hated how small I felt when he lo