Romances de POLLY IRIS

The putrid smell hijacked my nose, and my body did not respond. I hated that smell; I don’t need to be conscious to know that.I felt my pinky finger twitch. It felt heavy. I would need to put all my strength into lifting that hand, and I feel spent already. I willed my brain to move my head next. Nothing.It was dark, the smell was sickening, and I couldn’t move. The scent was accompanied by annoying beeps that I couldn't ignore.Where am I?“Thank you very much—I’ll just stay back with her. Yeah, thanks.”I tried to identify that voice. It sounds so familiar, so far yet so near.I felt the bed dip beside me, and I released a sigh of relief; at least one of my senses was working.“What the—” I asked. I tried asking because I knew nothing came out, and my lips probably didn’t move.Then I felt it, a hand wrapping around mine in a comforting manner. To comfort them or me, I don’t know. But I welcomed it.“Hey, you in there?” Her voice drifted to me in my vegetative state. Zoey.A split

Damien’s P.O.V“Thank you again, Mr Richard”His voice barely registered. I saw his mouth move, but the words slipped past my ears.My thoughts drifted—not to why he made the offer, but how it benefited me. I didn’t care about his reasons. If it served my purpose, it was good enough.Hiding from the media, even for someone like me, was a daily war. Money talks—but microphones scream. Reporters clawed for a headline, and even at night, they hunted. You’d think exhaustion would stop them. It didn’t...the man who was once an open book, now closed off, and under suspicion after his wife vanished.Having heavy accusations of murder and abuse on you as an elite member of society is no child's play; evading these accusations is worse and possibly impossible, but I refuse to believe that. I had exhausted nearly every plan— until one walked right in and offered themselves. This could fail, but as luck would have it, I was in no position to think otherwise.Just as a rescue mission, my guards

Making bad decisions has been one of my talents, and I know that because I am currently heading to my apartment, under this pouring rain, to confront Josh.I know what I saw, even though I am actively trying to talk myself out of this. What do I want him to say? Deny it?I want him to. I want him to tell me that it is all in my head and that it meant nothing.Tell me that the routine life I had built around him was still standing and that whatever happened, we would fix it.And Lily? What would she tell me?Oh, fuck it.I barged into the living room, announcing my second arrival.They jerked apart, Lily pulling off Josh as he burnt her, and his eyes locked on me like a deer in headlights.I ignored her fidgets and focused on Josh, counting the numbers backwards from 10 to steady my breath. I flipped my wet braids back, hoping that droplets of ice-cold water would reach them in this warm room.“Since when?” I breathed out, my voice barely audible, but I knew they heard me.The question

The moment I opened the door, my world ended.The handle was still warm from my palm when I saw them.Josh had Lily pinned against the arm of the couch, her legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth buried in the curve of her neck as he belonged there. The television was blaring some loud sports recap, the commentators shouting over each other, but it couldn’t drown out the sounds she made—soft, breathless, intimate.Sounds that didn’t belong to her.Sounds that belonged to me.Or at least, I thought they did.For a second, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. My brain refused to arrange the shapes and movements into meaning. Josh. Lily. My living room. My couch. His hands on her body were familiar. Like it was allowed.Then Lily laughed.And everything snapped into place.My fingers slipped off the door handle, but the door stayed open. I didn’t close it. I couldn’t. My body felt like it had been unplugged from itself—no strength, no control, just numb, floating horror.They still h