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ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY

Author: Hummingbird
last update Last Updated: 2025-11-24 22:57:36

Something inside me stalled. The kind of stillness that sinks into the ribs before the mind even understands the weight of the words.

Tell me about Neah. The words echo in my mind over and over again and I wonder if I should talk.

He didn’t look at me, which made it worse. Or maybe kinder. Maybe he knew what he was asking and couldn’t bring himself to meet my eyes.

Because I might never start if I'm looking at someone else. This would be like sharing my thoughts in an empty room but knowing someone was outside the door, eavesdropping. It was like a soothing balm.

I set the book down on my lap. My fingers stayed hooked over the cover for a moment, like I needed something to hold on to. When I started talking, I couldn't stop.

“She was… small,” I said. My voice came out softer than I meant. “Smaller than the doctors expected. They said she’d catch up but she never really did. She was always this tiny little thing and then we ran the tests and they found the Myocarditis and her health
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  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY ONE

    Mikhail was already halfway across the clearing when the guide called his name.“Hey. Big guy. We need your help.”Diana watched the way he turned, a quick glance over his shoulder toward her before he nodded and jogged toward the stack of logs near the fire pit. He moved with an easy confidence that still surprised her, shoulders broad, arms corded with strength, his presence pulling attention even when he was doing something as ordinary as lifting wood.“They need help chopping for the bonfire tonight,” he called back to her. “I will be right back, okay?.”She smiled and lifted a hand, watching as he bent to lift one end of a heavy log while another man struggled at the opposite side. Mikhail adjusted his grip, muscles flexing beneath his shirt, and the log came up like it weighed nothing.She exhaled slowly.“I’ll go grab my sweater,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, and turned back toward their tent.The path was quiet. Too quiet. The wind whispered through the trees an

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY

    The guide’s voice carried through the trees, loud and cheerful, calling everyone back toward the tents and away from the trees. The group shifted slowly, chatter rising as adrenaline faded. Harnesses were loosened, helmets unclipped, laughter spilling out as if nothing in the forest had weight or memory.Mikhail stayed close to Diana as they walked, his hand brushing hers, not holding yet, just there. Present and grounding. She could still feel the echo of the moment in the trees, the way her breath had caught, the way her heart had frozen in her chest. She told herself she imagined it. She told herself fear could wear familiar faces.They were almost near the tents when Mikhail slowed.“Go ahead,” he said to the others, his tone polite, calm. “We’ll catch up.”Before Diana could ask why, his fingers closed around her wrist and gently pulled her aside, deeper between two trees where the light thinned and the sounds of the group softened. Not hidden. Just private.Her pulse ticked fast

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY NINE

    DIANAThe guide’s voice cut through the low hum of the camp like a bell.“Gear up. Tree climbing in ten.”There was a ripple of excitement through the group. Buckles clinked. Someone laughed too loudly. Someone else groaned. I stayed where I was, finishing the last sip of my drink, watching the way Mikhail stood when there was something to prepare for. Alert. Focused. As if the world narrowed to whatever task sat in front of him.When I was done with eating, we went outside together. He came to me with a harness in his hands.“You okay with heights?” he asked quietly.“I think so,” I said, which was not exactly a lie. Heights only bothered me when I had too much time to think.“Good,” he said. “Then we do this slow.”He knelt in front of me and began fitting the gear around my thighs, his movements careful and exact. It reminded me of the way he handled weapons. The way his hands never shook. The way he treated every detail like it mattered.The straps tightened. His fingers brushed

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY EIGHT

    Diana woke slowly, drifting up from sleep like someone surfacing from deep water. For a moment she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to break whatever fragile, perfect thing was holding her there. The air felt different. Warm. Still. Safe in a way she had learned to trust.Then she felt it.Fingers in her hair.Not careless. Not absentminded. Slow and deliberate, as if every strand mattered. As if he was memorizing the weight of her, the curve of her skull beneath his palm, the way her breath shifted when she moved.Her lashes fluttered before she opened her eyes.Mikhail was already awake.He was sitting beside her, one knee drawn up, the other foot on the floor. He wasn’t dressed for the day yet. Just a dark shirt, sleeves pushed up, his forearms relaxed. His gaze was fixed on her face with an intensity that would have unsettled her any other time.But this morning, it didn’t scare her.It softened something in her chest instead.“Hiii,” she murmured, her voice still thick with

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY SEVEN

    “I love you.” he saidOne second Diana was watching him with disbelief, the next Mikhail’s hands were on her waist and he was lifting her clean off the ground. She let out a breathless gasp as her back met the rough bark of a tree trunk. The impact wasn’t painful, not with the way his body came with her, caging her in, holding her up, as if his hands were the only thing keeping her from falling.Her legs bent instinctively around him and the sound that left him was low and harsh, like he had been holding it in for days.His mouth was on her before she could speak.The kiss wasn’t gentle or hesitant. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate and consuming and full of a heat that felt like it had been building since the motel, since the rain, since the knife at the manager’s throat, since the bar, since she whispered his name in her sleep.His lips claimed hers like he was starving for her. His hands slid up and grabbed one of her boobs through her clothes. She tasted the str

  • Dear Ex-husband, I Don't Love You Anymore    I LOVE YOU, Di

    The moment she hears his voice, something in her chest folds in on itself.Mikhail steps out of the shadows like the forest had been holding its breath for him. His eyes are a storm she recognises instantly, focused and cold, but underneath the frost there is a crack she caused. She knows it. She feels it.Spade shifts, one arm moving just slightly in front of her in a protective way she never asked for. Mikhail’s eyes drop to that hand and something violent blooms in his expression.“Let her go,” Mikhail says quietly.Spade’s jaw tightens. “You do not own her.”“Look at me.” Mikhail says ignoring Spade. “I can see you just fine.” Spade retorts “I am not speaking to you,” Mikhail replies, and his voice is softer now, directed at Diana, almost pleading. “Come here.”Her heart breaks a little because that softness is for her alone.But Spade’s grip on her wrist grows firmer when she takes one hesitant step toward Mikhail.“No,” Spade says. “Dan gave me this order. I am not letting you

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