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Chapter 59 The Sweetness of What Had Left

مؤلف: Nayko Ayasame
last update آخر تحديث: 2025-12-16 08:30:49

The first thing I was aware of was the smell of developer and old wood. Then, the soft, steady sound of breathing that was not my own. I opened my eyes to the soft grey light of dawn filtering through the large windows of Liam’s studio. For a terrifying second, I expected to see the cold, minimalist lines of Julian’s penthouse. Instead, my eyes found the familiar, comforting chaos of Liam’s world: cameras on shelves, prints hanging from clips, the silhouette of his sleeping form beside me on the futon. A warmth spread through my chest, so profound it was almost painful. This was real. He was real. I carefully extricated myself, not wanting to wake him, and pulled on his oversized sweater that lay discarded on the floor. The room was cool. My gaze drifted to the far wall. My heart stuttered.

The collage was still there. But it was different. It was no longer

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  • He is.... Not Him   Chapter 67 The Return

    The night air was cool against my flushed skin as I stood outside the familiar, imposing apartment door. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, a mix of terror and exhilarating certainty. I raised a trembling hand and pressed the doorbell.Inside, Julian was drowning. An empty bottle of expensive Bordeaux sat on the coffee table beside a half-full glass. He was sprawled on his sofa, still in his work clothes, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. The television was on, but he wasn't watching it. He was staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to numb the relentless ache in his chest with the wine. Sleep was a forgotten luxury; his only solace was the blessed blurring of the ed

  • He is.... Not Him   Chapter 66 Wedding Dress

    Six months later…The room was decorated in a theme of pristine white. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, dominated by the deep, romantic fragrance of roses—my favorite—their crimson hue a stark, beautiful contrast against the white walls and flowing curtains. I stood before a huge, floor-to-ceiling mirror, my breath catching in my throat.The mirror reflected a figure I barely recognized. The white wedding dress was perfection itself, hugging my curves in all the right places before flowing out into a graceful train. It was elegant, timeless, and utterly breathtaking. I looked… outstanding. A bride in every sense of the word.

  • He is.... Not Him   Chapter 65 The Father of Thornes

    The Thorne family residence was not a home; it was a museum of cold, impeccable taste. Every piece of furniture was placed with geometric precision, every surface gleamed under the soft, recessed lighting, and the silence was so profound it felt like a physical presence. I stood in the vast, minimalist dining room, feeling like a misplaced, breathing exhibit.Chairman Thorne sat at the head of a long, obsidian table that could easily seat twenty. He did not rise when I was shown in. He merely gestured with a slow, deliberate hand to the single place setting directly to his right. The distance between us felt both intimate and infinite.“Ms. Sharpe,” he said by way of greeting.

  • He is.... Not Him   Chapter 64 The Broken Engangement

    The weight of the day felt like a physical burden on my shoulders. The whispers, the pitying glances after my message in the Elysium Foundation chat, the oppressive silence from Julian’s office—it had all built into a dense, suffocating pressure in my chest. Every time my phone had buzzed with another cheerful, oblivious message from the Elysium Foundation group, a fresh wave of nausea had washed over me. Their normal world was a planet I had been thrown from, and I was still tumbling through the empty, silent space between my old life and my new one.I was packing my bag, my movements slow and weary, each item placed inside feeling

  • He is.... Not Him   Chapter 63 The One Who Lost

    I did not walk away. His question hung in the air, a plea from the abyss, and I found I had one last thing to say. The coldness in my heart had crystallized into something sharp and clear."Forgiveness isn't the point, Julian," I said, my voice unnervingly calm. "And I was not the main person you needed to ask it from."He looked up, confusion breaking through his despair."What—""In your cold, calculated game," I continued, cutting him off, "maybe I could be regarded as collateral damage. A casualty you caused in your bigger war."He flinched as if I'd struck him. His mouth opened, a

  • He is.... Not Him   Chapter 62 Not Strong Enough

    The well-meaning congratulations from my colleagues became a constant, grating chorus in my personal hell. Every cheerful “We’re so happy for you!” and curious “When’s the big day?” felt like a small, sharp pinprick against my composure, steadily weakening the resolve I had worked so hard to build. I felt like a complete fraud, an impostor smiling tightly from my own desk, silently screaming behind a mask of normalcy.The most unnerving part was the silence. The immense, heavy silence from the man who had created this entire false reality. Julian Thorne became a ghost in his own building, a presence I sensed more than actually saw. I’d catch a fleeting glimpse of his back turning a distant corner, hear the low rumble of his voice through a closed conference room door, or notice the faint, expensive trace of his cologne in an elevator he had just left. He was everywhere and nowhere all

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