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Hundred and two
Huling Na-update:
2025-08-07 07:35:14
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He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and four
We woke before the alarm.The light came in soft through the curtains, that kind of clean morning gold that makes everything look like it belongs. No dramatics. No symbolism. Just sunlight, steady and sure. It touched the edge of the duvet, crept over the old oak floors, lit the steam rising from the mug Julian had placed on my nightstand.I didn’t reach for it yet.He was still beside me, propped up on one elbow, quiet. The kind of quiet that meant he had already been watching me for a while, letting me wake slowly, the way he knew I liked to.“Hi,” I said softly.He smiled. “Hi.”The word settled between us like a tradition. There was nothing new about the morning. That was the best part.Outside, the street was coming alive. I could hear a delivery truck grumble two blocks down. A dog barked once and stopped. Somewhere, a door slammed and a bicycle bell rang. It was the sound of life, moving around us. And here, inside this room, time moved slower.Julian handed me the coffee. I sa
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and three
Our drinks arrived a few minutes later. The young woman set them down gently, then walked away without needing to say anything. There was something restful about the way people moved in here. Like they had nothing to prove.Julian took a slow sip of his coffee. I wrapped both hands around my tea and just held it for a while. The warmth of the cup against my palms grounded me more than I expected. Outside, a couple passed by with their shoulders drawn close, sharing a single umbrella. The moment felt small, but real. I had come to cherish those moments. Not because they were rare, but because I had finally begun to notice them.“I don’t regret leaving,” I said.Julian did not interrupt.“I thought it would feel like abandoning something. But it didn’t. It feels more like… honoring it by letting it change.”He looked around the space. “They kept the light fixtures.”I nodded. “One of them is still crooked. We never did fix it.”He smiled and leaned back, resting his arm on the back of t
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and two
The rain had started that morning, not in a rush but as something gradual, as if the sky had needed time to make up its mind. It wasn’t the kind of downpour that sent people running or forced umbrellas open like shields. It was a gentle, steady rainfall. A soft insistence that lingered in the air and darkened the sidewalks, painting the city in deeper shades of itself. By noon, everything was wet and quiet. Not silent, but hushed. As though the rain had given the day permission to slow down.Julian and I didn’t have plans. For the first time in weeks, there was no event, no fitting, no meeting waiting just beyond the next breath. We had taken the day without apology. Not as a reward, not to mark anything. Just because we could. Because the work was steady, the team was strong, and we had started to understand that rest did not mean stepping away. It meant stepping into something else for a while. Something just as real. Something that didn’t need to be measured.We walked through the
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and one
We left the gala before dessert was served.It wasn’t that I was tired. It wasn’t even that I wanted to leave. I simply did not need anything more. Not another glass of champagne. Not another photograph. Not another moment trying to be gracious in a room that had already seen enough.Julian took my coat from the attendant without asking. He helped me into it gently, his hands brushing my shoulders with care more than ceremony. Outside, the city air had cooled further. I tilted my head back and let it touch my face.Neither of us said anything until we were halfway down the block.“You did not look at your phone once tonight,” he said.“I didn’t need to.”“You will tomorrow.”“I know.”He adjusted the collar of his coat and tucked his hands into his pockets.“Do you think they meant it?” he asked. “The award. The applause.”“I think they meant to be seen applauding me,” I said. “That’s not the same thing, but it’s enough.”We kept walking. The streets were quieter now. The kind of quie
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred
The invitation had arrived in a cream envelope with embossed lettering and no flourish. It was not the kind of event I had expected to attend this year, not with everything still settling into shape, not with the boutique still finding its rhythm. But there it was, unmistakable in its simplicity. The Gala of Design and Legacy. An award ceremony I had watched from afar when I was younger, seated beside my mother as she whispered stories about the women whose names were called on stage. I used to think those women were born for that kind of light. I used to think I would always live just outside it.I did not think I would be attending, much less standing on the stage.But a letter came. And then another. Then the call from Arielle, followed by a long silence on the line after she told me.“They want to give you the lifetime achievement honor,” she said. “They’re not asking for a press campaign. No interviews. Just a speech. If you want it.”I had nodded then, even though she could not
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Ninety nine
The boutique had grown quieter in the weeks since the opening. Not from lack of interest, but from the rhythm we had promised to protect. No rush. No spotlight. Just time. Steady, deliberate time. Lena’s article had already begun to fade into the archives of the internet, but the people it brought continued to arrive quietly, respectfully, as though they, too, understood that this space wasn’t built to entertain. Julian was still arriving early. Sometimes earlier than I did. I would walk in and find him seated in the corner chair by the back window, a cup of coffee in one hand, a pen in the other, making notations on a sketch or drafting measurements with a quiet intensity that never looked strained. His presence had always anchored the boutique, but recently, it carried something else. Something softer. He was still himself, still thoughtful, still cautious with his words, but there was a gentleness now in the way he moved through the rooms. A stillness that came not from exhaustio
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