LOGIN"My feet."He looked at her feet.Then at her."What's wrong? Does it hurt?"She nodded."Can you help me with a massage?" she asked.Tarzan didn't hesitate.He immediately pulled his chair closer, gently lifting her feet and settling them across his lap. His hands wrapped around one foot first, thumbs pressing carefully into the sole.Lena immediately relaxed; her shoulders dropped, and her eyes fluttered closed."Oh..."Tarzan smiled."That felt good?""So good."She chuckled.Tarzan worked slowly, moving from her heel to the arch, then toward her toes. Whenever he pressed a particularly sore spot, Lena's toes curled slightly—and he noticed."Here?""Yes."He massaged the area again, more softly this time."Better?""Much."She picked up another bite of food and ate while he continued. Every few moments, she glanced down at him. There was something almost absurdly tender about the sight: the man who could be intimidating when he wanted to, now sitting there patiently massaging her f
"We are not married yet," Lena reminded him. She expected a reply, but he was quiet. I wonder if that made him upset in some way.*I haven't even divorced Mitch yet ..I have a lot to do when we get back to the United States.* Lena stepped into the warm bath. He waited nearby, listening to the soft splash of water as she soaked. When she finally stepped out, she reached for her bathrobe. Tarzan handed it to her before taking the towel. "Come here," he instructed. He gently dried her hair, carefully patting away the excess water before running the towel through the ends. Lena stood quietly in front of him, eyes half-closed. There was something incredibly domestic about the moment—the way he patted her hair dry and massaged her scalp. It felt so nice, so romantic. Just him taking care of her. When her hair was damp rather than dripping, he guided her out of the bathroom. Lena put on her cozy bedroom robe, and he led her toward the vanity. "Sit." She sat. He picked up the h
NEW LOCATION: PARIS, France The morning had slipped by in quiet stillness, and by afternoon, the sky had turned overcast, releasing a soft, steady rain. The room was unusually peaceful, filled with the muted hush of summer rain streaming down the floor-to-ceiling windows. Tarzan had been awake for hours. He sat comfortably against the headboard, one leg stretched beneath the covers and the other bent slightly, a book resting open in his hands. But every so often, his attention drifted from the page. To Lena. She was still asleep beside him, barely having moved all morning. She lay curled beneath the blanket, her hair fanned out across the pillow in a messy halo. Every time he glanced at her, a smile tugged at his lips. She had slept through the entire morning, and he hadn't had the heart to disturb her. After last night, she certainly needed the rest. Still, he had quietly prepared a meal for when she woke, making sure something warm would be waiting for her. Eventually,
She watched the young women startle and immediately scattered back to their duties. But the truth was, she hadn't heard a word they'd said. Their voices had been nothing but a dull hum beneath the roaring in her ears. However, she knows for sure they were talking about her. Her eyes clouded with unshed tears, and her chest felt heavy—like someone had filled her lungs with stones. She blinked rapidly, desperately, refusing to let the tears fall. Not here at work, she can't be crying at work. "How can I ever see Lena to ask for her forgiveness?" The thought came like a stabbing idea in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, and the memories of the last time she was with Lena came back. That night. The rain had been pounding against the windows. Lena had shown up on her doorstep, drenched and desperate, her mascara running down her cheeks like black tears. "Julia, please, you have to believe me. He's lying. I would never—" But Julia hadn't listened. She'd bee
Julia stood frozen behind the counter, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the counter. Felicia sighed. "Look,Julia... I know you're in disbelief. Just because you think it can't be possible doesn't mean it's not Lena. I had my doubts too, but you can't deny that woman looks exactly like Lena." She showed Julia the picture again. Julia's heart hammered against her ribs as she forced herself to look away. "I am the closest person to her," Julia whispered, her voice cracking with an emotion. "But maybe you don't notice the little things about her like I did. That's not the Lena I know. There's a difference." Felicia tilted her head. "Well, it's been a year and she is not wearing kitchen apron. So what do you mean by a difference? Good or bad difference?" "Good difference," Julia admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I guess there's a possibility it's really Lena." Felicia crossed her arms triumphantly, a victorious grin spreading across her fac
“I’m a fan of the popular hot Model, Silver Adams. I’ve been following the rumors about him dating this plus-size woman name Lena."Aria said."As a plus-size girly myself, it felt like a huge win to me. When I showed Felicia the pictures, she swore the woman was the divorcee who used to work here. I’m trying to tell her it can’t be the same person. This woman is supposed to be a chef at one of the best schools in Paris, and she’s also Silver Adams’s manager. From what I’ve gathered, her family is old money.” Felicia rolled her eyes, already pulling out her phone. She scrolled quickly, then thrust the screen toward Julia. “Look. Is this not Lena? And doesn’t Silver Adams look a lot like that biker guy she was seeing while she was still married? I’m certain it’s them. They went viral at the Paris Gala a few weeks ago." Julia’s hands froze mid-motion. She set the half-shaped pastry down carefully, wiped her palms on her apron, and walked around the counter. Her heart had be
I forced myself up and walked back into the bedroom Mitch and I had shared for three years of our marriage. I hadn’t slept in that bed for over two years now. Not since I left it. Every morning, he used to wake me up to complain about my snoring. I apologized. Then… I started staying awake
I met Mitch fifteen years ago at a coffee shop. I was sixteen, working as a store assistant and trying to look like I had my life together. I still remember what I wore that day. A faded white sundress scattered with tiny yellow flowers. Sandals laced around my ankles. Mitch was standing in
You will never truly understand heartbreak until it comes from the same man who once adored you—who protected you, who loved you without hesitation. “What’s the number?” My husband’s voice came from the doorway. I flinched and looked up. That’s how sad my life had become—the usual routine of ste
LENA'S POVMy cheeks were still warm long after we pulled apart.The kiss had been soft, almost reverent, yet it left my racing in a wild, joyful rhythm I couldn’t quite tame. I buried my face deeper into the enormous bouquet he’d brought me, inhaling the sweet, heady fragrance of fresh roses and







