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13. Craving Hours
Last Updated:
2025-06-25 23:15:11
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Guilty Pleasure #2 109. Forever, My Butterfly
The morning of the wedding day dawned clear and bright, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. Elena stood before the full-length mirror, her heart beating a frantic, joyful rhythm against her ribs. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the thin veil over her hair.Today was the day. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drum of nerves and anticipation that made her stomach flutter with every beat.A soft knock sounded at the door.“Come in,” she called, her voice slightly tremulous.The door opened, and her father, Enric, stepped in. He was handsome in his classic black tuxedo, but his eyes were bright with unshed tears the moment he saw her.&
Guilty Pleasure #2 108. Wherever You’re Standing
The silence in the car as they drove away from her father’s house was different from the furious tension of the afternoon. Elena leaned her head against the cool window, watching the familiar streets of her old neighborhood blur past. Her hand rested loosely in Ryan’s, their fingers entwined as if neither wanted to let go.Ryan glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You’re quiet, butterfly. What’s running in that pretty head of yours?”She turned to look at him, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Just everything. Tonight, my dad, Avonlea, us. It feels like my life is changing so quickly.”“It is,” he admitted simply, his voice steady, “but not for the worse. Change isn’t always bad.&rdquo
Guilty Pleasure #2 107. Bridges Rebuilt
Elena’s sobs shook her shoulders as she stood in the living room. Ryan listened carefully, silent at first, giving her space to pour everything out. When her cries softened to ragged hiccups, he didn’t respond with words. He rose from the chair and with two long strides, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms.Elena collapsed against his chest, her fists clenching the soft wool of his sweater. She clung to him, burying her face against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. He held her, patient and unwavering, his own heartbeat a quiet rhythm beneath her ear.“Shhh, butterfly,” he murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from her tear-streaked face. “I’ve got you.”He let her cry, his presence a solid,
Guilty Pleasure #2 106. Lies and Loyalties
A month had passed. Time had moved forward, but grief had not been erased. It lingered like a stubborn shadow that refused to let go, hanging over Ryan and Anna’s home with a heavy silence that never seemed to fully lift.Ryan had settled into a routine, spending his days at the Johnson estate with his mother. He managed business from there, balancing conference calls, paperwork, and the constant pressure of keeping the empire steady, while simultaneously keeping watch over Anna.Anna herself was trying, but her health had not been steady since his father’s passing. Some days were better than others. On the better days, she would sit in the garden, pretending to read a book while the sunlight touched her tired face. On the harder ones, she would stay in bed, fragile and silent, leaving Ryan restless and on edge.
Guilty Pleasure #2 105. Held Through the Night
“How’s Mom?” The question was automatic, Ryan’s first and only thought, even in the depths of his own grief.Elena swallowed, walking closer, her eyes fixed on him. “She’s resting. I just checked on her. She finally took the sedative the doctor left.A low, weary sigh escaped him. “Good.”He finally turned from the window. His eyes were bloodshot, shadows etched deep beneath them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. The events of the day had carved new lines of pain around his eyes and mouth. His gaze was distant, fixed on some internal horizon of loss.“I don’t know how to do this for her. “I can handle the business, the lawyers, the
Guilty Pleasure #2 104. The Weight of Loss
Two weeks slipped by in a blur of numb days and restless nights.For Elena, life had become a monotonous cycle of attending classes in a daze, avoiding Avonlea’s persistent, wounded glances, and returning to the cold, silent expanse of Ryan’s penthouse. Her dorm application was still processing. Elena felt like she was living in a bubble where everything was muffled.Her days were punctuated by calls from Ryan, each one shorter and more strained than the last. The updates on his father were a slow, agonizing descent. His voice, once a source of such potent strength, had become a hollow echo of defeat. She’d pour all her energy into those calls, trying to be his lifeline, her own problems feeling trivial in the face of his impending loss.She was
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