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An ordinary day, Until it wasn’t
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2026-01-13 10:00:00Happiness had settled into my life so gently that sometimes I was afraid to breathe too loudly, afraid I might startle it away.
Soren came to our house often now. Not out of obligation, not as a guest who needed to be entertained, but as someone who belonged. He sat with my mother in the evenings, listening to her stories with patience.
He walked through the rooms as though they were already part of his future. And when it was just the two of us, we talked endlessly—about the wedding, about small details that somehow felt enormous, about the life we wanted to build after everything we had survived.
There was a softness between us, something unhurried and sincere. His hand would find mine without effort. His voice, when he spoke my name, carried a certainty that calmed the restless corners of my heart. Love lingered in the air, tangible and warm, like sunlight that refuses to fade even as the day stretches on.
That Saturday
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I was more than pretty An ordinary day, Until it wasn’t
Happiness had settled into my life so gently that sometimes I was afraid to breathe too loudly, afraid I might startle it away.Soren came to our house often now. Not out of obligation, not as a guest who needed to be entertained, but as someone who belonged. He sat with my mother in the evenings, listening to her stories with patience.He walked through the rooms as though they were already part of his future. And when it was just the two of us, we talked endlessly—about the wedding, about small details that somehow felt enormous, about the life we wanted to build after everything we had survived.There was a softness between us, something unhurried and sincere. His hand would find mine without effort. His voice, when he spoke my name, carried a certainty that calmed the restless corners of my heart. Love lingered in the air, tangible and warm, like sunlight that refuses to fade even as the day stretches on.That Saturday
I was more than pretty A moment before forever
I went downstairs later, not because I was thirsty, but because my chest felt too tight to breathe upstairs. The walls had begun to feel close, heavy with thoughts I couldn’t quiet. I told myself water would help, that the simple act of holding a glass, of swallowing something cold, might ground me back into my body.The living room lights were on. The television was on. And before I even stepped fully into the space, I felt it—the weight in the air, thick and uneasy.My mother stood near the couch, her arms folded tightly across her chest. A few of the maids were gathered nearby, unusually still, their eyes fixed on the screen. No one was speaking. No one noticed me at first. The only sound was the low, grave voice of the news anchor filling the room.I stopped walking.The footage replayed scenes I had already seen, yet they looked worse from this angle—more distant, more unreal, more cruel.The words “
I was more than pretty The Tragic death of Serena
Weeks passed since I met Soren’s parents, but life had not returned to anything close to normal.I had tried, over and over, to convince myself that time would soften the ache, that routines could distract me, that silence could somehow make the weight lighter. But nothing could prepare me for this. Nothing could soften the blow of the news that came like a knife twisting in my chest this particular day.The alert on my phone was simple like it was when the news of the death of Julian and his parents where everywhere:“Body Discovered at Lake – Identity Pending.”I stared at it, unblinking, and a chill crawled up my spine. There was something about the calmness of the words, the detached way the world reported death as if it were ordinary, that made my stomach sink deeper.I tapped the link, my hands trembling, and forced myself to watch the footage. The reporter’s voice was steady, almost mon
I was more than pretty Wrapped in loving acceptance
Samantha, Soren’s mother, broke the silence first. And somehow, in that simple act, the tension in the room melted like morning frost. She smiled warmly, her eyes soft but lively, and stepped forward with a grace that could silence any room. Before I even had time to breathe, she embraced me, her hug firm yet comforting.“Welcome, dear,” she said, her voice ringing with sincerity. “We’re so happy you’re here.”I felt my cheeks heat, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding through me. I hadn’t expected to be welcomed so openly, not after all the stories I’d heard about the Bellandi family, about their pride, about their discerning nature. And yet, Samantha’s smile erased every fear I had carried with me.Meanwhile, Soren and his father were engaged in a silent duel of gazes, both unyielding, both measuring the other. I could feel the undercurrent of their long history, the weight of unspoken wor
I was more than pretty Amidst chaos, we stand
By evening, the news had spread like wildfire.Televisions blared the headline. Phones buzzed nonstop. Social media erupted with speculation, theories, outrage, fear.“Prominent Vale Family Found Dead in Mansion.”“Suspected Poisoning.”“Daughter-in-law Serena Missing, Now Prime Suspect.”Rumors twisted the story into a hundred different shapes. Some called her a monster. Others whispered about revenge. Some claimed she had snapped. Others insisted she had planned it for months.One thing was clear.Serena was gone.And no one knew where she was.Eve saw the news.So did Soren.Everyone did.But their names were not mentioned.Not once.The city buzzed with shock, fear, and unanswered questions as the story took over every screen, every conversation, every breath of the night.And somewhere out there, a woman was running.⚜
I was more than pretty Frozen in time
The house had been too quiet for too long.Not the comfortable quiet of an empty home waiting patiently for its owners to return. This silence was different. It clung to the walls. It pressed into the corners. It sat heavy in the air like a held breath that had gone on far too long. Days had passed since anyone had last crossed the threshold of the Vale mansion, and though the exterior still looked immaculate—gates polished, hedges trimmed, windows gleaming—the inside had begun to change.The air itself had shifted.Not enough yet to raise alarms from outside. Not enough to drift through the neighborhood or prompt curious glances. But inside the walls, beneath the layers of luxury and careful design, something foul had begun to bloom. A subtle corruption. A quiet rot that did not announce itself loudly, but waited instead for the right moment, the right witness.That moment came in the afternoon.Mrs. Vale’s close fr
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