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Chapter 19 Room 512
Last Updated:
2025-09-03 18:11:49
Latest chapter
Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More Chapter 23: The Things You Never Said
Elijah didn’t slam the door when he came in. He didn’t have to. The silence that followed him into the apartment was louder than any slam. Gabe was on the couch, his laptop open on his knees, blue light flickering against his face. He looked casual, safe, ordinary until he saw Elijah’s eyes. Then his whole body shifted, alert, wary. “What happened?” Gabe asked carefully, voice already tight with worry. Elijah didn’t answer right away. He walked in slow, shoulders stiff, and slipped a folded square of paper from his coat pocket. He set it on the coffee table like it was a bomb. A photo. The photo. Gabe’s face froze. His fingers hovered above his laptop keys, then fell uselessly into his lap. Elijah sat across from him, every movement deliberate. His voice was low, almost flat, but there was something raw underneath. “Why didn’t you tell me we knew him?” Gabe looked at the photograph like it was a ghost crawling out of the past. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but no word
Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More Chapter 22: The Man with the Burned Eye
The private investigator’s office sat on the third floor of a dying building. The stair rails were rusted, paint peeling in long strips like shed skin. The hallway light above buzzed and flickered as Elijah climbed, every step echoing louder than it should have. The door at the end was dull gray, its glass panel covered in grime, letters barely visible through the dust. C. TORRES Discreet Services. No title. No promises. The kind of name that said: I’ll do the job, but don’t ask me twice. Gabe had found him, of course. Said Torres had once been the man powerful men called when they wanted something buried so deep no one could exhume it. The kind of man Elijah’s father had trusted. “He doesn’t pick sides,” Gabe had warned on the drive over. “He picks whoever pays him more. That’s all you need to remember.” Elijah had nodded, but the truth was, he wasn’t sure what he believed anymore. About his father. About Gabe. About himself. He knocked once. The hollow sound traveled down
Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More Chapter 21 : Cease and Desist
The envelope was the kind that didn’t belong in an ordinary life. Sleek. Black. Weightless, yet heavy in its silence. No stamp. No name. No return address. It had been slid under their front door like a shadow, like a warning that didn’t need to knock. Gabe was the one who found it. He bent down, frowning, the porch light spilling over his shoulder. “You expecting anything?” Elijah shook his head, his stomach tightening with something he couldn’t name. Gabe held it out. Elijah hesitated before taking it, the paper smooth and cold in his hands. He unfolded the flap with careful fingers, as though expecting poison to seep through. Inside was a single sheet of thick white paper. Crisp. Clean. Neatly folded. Typed. No signature. He read the first line. His chest constricted. By the second, his hands trembled. By the third, his throat was dry as sand. Gabe noticed the change instantly. He stepped closer, concern sharp in his eyes. “What is it?” Elijah passed him the letter, his ha
Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More Chapter 20: Things We Swore to Bury
Gabe sat on the back porch, hunched forward on the old wooden step, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. He didn’t smoke much these days. Only when the past came knocking hard enough to rattle his bones, loud enough to make sleep impossible. Tonight, the knock was deafening. The porch creaked when Elijah’s car pulled into the driveway. Headlights cut through the dusk, and Gabe braced himself, dragging smoke deep into his lungs before flicking the ash into the dark. He didn’t look up right away. He couldn’t. When Elijah’s footsteps crunched over gravel and climbed the porch steps, Gabe finally raised his head. Elijah’s face was pale, strained, and in his hand gripped tight like it might burn him was the photo. The one from Singapore. Elijah stopped just a few feet away. His voice came out raw, like it had been dragged over broken glass. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The air between them tightened. Gabe glanced at the cigarette, then back to Elijah. His chest felt heavier tha
Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More Chapter 19 Room 512
The hotel wasn’t hard to trace. Elijah sat in the passenger seat of Gabe’s car, laptop balanced on his knees, his fingers restless against the trackpad. He’d uploaded the photograph the one that had been haunting him into a reverse image search. Within minutes, the screen lit up with matches. The Langston Royale, Singapore. High end. Discreet. The kind of place where billionaires held their affairs, where politicians signed dirty contracts in hushed voices, where secrets went to sleep beneath silk sheets. Elijah leaned closer, studying the glowing image. The hotel’s dark façade. The arch of glass above the entrance. The way the photo framed him as if caught mid step. He looked younger, sharper, less broken. Two months before the crash. Two months before his memory had been carved out like someone had cut it clean with a knife. “This was me,” Elijah whispered. The words trembled in the stillness of the car. “I just don’t know why I was there.” Beside him, Gabe shifted in the dri
Love Didn’t Save Us. It Just Made the Fall Hurt More Chapter 18: The Man Beside Me
The seat had been empty when the eyes first closed. The hum of the engine, the steady rhythm of the road, made it easy to drift. But waking came with a shift in the air heavier, warmer someone was there now. No sound announced the arrival. No footsteps. Just the faint scent of something unfamiliar and the awareness of space no longer unoccupied. The figure sat still, too still, the kind of stillness that suggested listening more than resting. Peripheral vision caught only fragments: the dark outline of a shoulder, the curve of an arm resting too neatly, the faint turn of a head. Looking directly felt wrong, as though the act itself might change whatever was sitting there. The vehicle moved through long stretches of shadow, lights flickering across the glass. In those brief moments of illumination, the shape beside seemed sharper, more deliberate. Once, there was the glint of something metallic at the wrist. Once, the faintest shift of lips, not quite a smile. No words we
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