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Hundred
Last Updated:
2025-08-07 07:29:23
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He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and seven
It started with a drawer I hadn’t opened in months. One of the narrow ones in the back corner of my desk, the kind that collects scraps you promise to deal with later but never do. I had been looking for a spare needle, something small and practical, when my fingers brushed against the edge of a thick envelope. Not new. The paper was soft from time, creased at the corners. I knew what it was before I pulled it out.The handwriting on the front was mine.There were more inside the drawer. Seven in total. All addressed to no one, folded carefully, stored without any intention of ever being sent. Letters written during the quiet days, back when I still signed my name Noelle. When I lived like a ghost inside someone else’s skin.I carried them to the couch and sat with my legs tucked beneath me. The light was thin and gray through the window. It felt like the right kind of afternoon to remember who I had been.The first letter was dated two months after I had left everything behind. It wa
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and six
Julian brought dinner to the studio that night. He didn’t ask if I was hungry. He just placed the container on the windowsill and sat across from me with a quiet look that said he knew I would need it eventually. I let my pencil rest beside the page and leaned back.He opened one of the boxes and handed me a fork. Neither of us spoke for a while. The room smelled like roasted garlic and turmeric and waxed cotton. It should have been a strange combination, but somehow it felt like home.“You’re quiet,” I said eventually.He shrugged, poking at his rice. “It feels like a moment worth being quiet for.”“I’m not angry,” I said.“I know.”“I was. For a long time. About a lot of things. But not this. Not anymore.”He nodded slowly, then looked around the room. “It’s strange, isn’t it? That you can lose something that once felt like your whole self, and then years later, hold a piece of it again and realize it didn’t kill you to let it go.”I watched him, my fork resting midair. “You think t
He Chose my Cousin, so I Chose Revenge Hundred and five
It started quietly, like most things do these days. No announcement. No scandal. Just a name mentioned over coffee, a folded page in a trade magazine, a whispered remark from someone I used to know well but hadn’t spoken to in years. I almost missed it. Would’ve missed it, if Simone hadn’t paused mid-sentence and tilted the page toward me, her finger tapping once, deliberate.“You’ll want to look at this,” she said.I did not expect to see the silhouette of my own work staring back at me. Not exactly, not down to the last detail, but close enough that I knew. A particular sleeve curve I had only used once, a way the fabric twisted at the hip that had taken me four sketchbook tries to solve. Not copied, not blatantly. But echoed. Whispered through another label, bent just enough to avoid accusation, but not enough to hide the truth from someone who had lived it.Julian sat across from me, his fork suspended halfway to his plate. I hadn’t even noticed the conversation had stopped.“What
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
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