IN MY STEPSON’S BED

DIANNEI didn’t mean to sleep with a stranger. Again. I meant to run. To escape. To save what little was left of my freedom before it was sold off in a marriage deal I didn’t agree to. But that kiss on the rooftop… His mouth on mine, the taste of tequila and something more dangerous- I didn't stop it. I couldn't. I was supposed to be getting away, putting miles between me and the life waiting to trap me.But instead, I got distracted..And now, I can’t stop replaying it. His hands. His voice. His body. The way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, I couldn't deny him my body.And now we were here, tangled, sweaty, breathless, taking in the cool night breeze as we dried off eventually. I should’ve closed my eyes and let myself have this. Just this. A fleeting moment under someone else's skin before the world clawed me back.But my father’s voice cut through like a blade. "Your grandfather built this university brick by brick, Dianne. If it crumbles now,

Here came my wedding day. I sat here in a room full of people working on my hair and makeup.“Do you like it, ma’am?” the makeup artist asked, spinning the chair toward the mirror, her smile wide and genuine.Were all makeup artists this cheerful? Somehow, her bright energy made the whole morning feel lighter.I smiled when I saw myself.I looked... surprisingly pretty.I never wore much makeup—I was always scared I’d end up looking like a clown, not to mention the breakouts. But now I barely recognize myself.I looked like one of those perfect Barbie dolls, and for a second, I couldn’t believe it was me.My long smooth black hair was neatly curled and I loved it.I always kept my hair straight so I looked different now.I nodded my head, “Yes.”She smiled back. “Perfect! Let's get you in your dress now, okay?”I gave a small nod before standing and stepping into the dress. I couldn’t believe it, but a little part of me felt excited. The white gown, the makeup—it all felt unreal. Alm

“Fuck,” I groaned, balling up the seventh piece of paper and tossing it into the trash.I’d been glued to this chair for the past eight hours, staring at a blank page. Not a single usable word. It’d been two years since I released my last book, and my publisher had been breathing down my neck for months to get something started. But here I was—burnt out, uninspired, blocked.I turned my swivel chair toward my phone. 2:03 PM. I hadn’t even gone downstairs all morning. Then again, I couldn’t blame myself. The house was too big. Everything I needed was upstairs—except the main kitchen. There was a smaller kitchenette near my room, but the real pantry was downstairs.I continued brainstorming, I had already gotten an idea, I didn’t just know how to put it. I rubbed my hands on my face, looking down at myself. Married to a billionaire and I wore nothing but a baggy t-shirt with nothing under it. You need to up your night-wear game, Dianne. Just then I heard the door open and I saw Noah,

3 years later My name was everywhere. Magazine covers. News interviews. Even a movie deal. If you asked anyone, they’d say I had it all — and maybe they were right. My book had taken off, capturing the attention of readers everywhere. It was the breakthrough I’d been waiting for, the kind of success that reshaped everything. Italy had become a second home — my publisher and the entire team were based there. I’d flown in and out so often it became routine. But now, with talk of relocating the publishing house, I knew my time there was coming to an end. Aside from that, I enjoyed it over all. I managed to get a lot of designer clothes, visit places, relax. Richard, surprisingly, had become a very friendly husband. We’d built a cordial, easygoing relationship. He adored me — that much was clear. Soon, I’d be leaving Italy — heading back to New York for the premiere of my latest book. Things were going well. For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace. The night of

The struggle between deleting his number and texting him increased. I’d tried to overlook our kiss and forget about it but I couldn't. My ache had increased for Noah. That little kiss was able to ignite a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time and that wasn't good for me. I wanted him.And he knew. It was obvious. Almost like he was just waiting—waiting for me to give in and fall apart.I didn’t know what would happen next, but I knew one thing for sure: I was going to see him again.Today.Because today was Richard’s birthday. And I’d invited Noah.Richard once told me that Noah hadn’t attended a single one of his birthdays in ten years. It made me feel sorry for him. No father deserved that kind of rejection, no matter how flawed he was. So I reached out personally, hoping he’d say yes.But if I was being honest, part of me wanted to see him too. A small part of me was still caught up in the way last night had left me breathless.Planning birthdays had always felt like therapy to me.