Olivia turned over in bed for the third time, sleep wasn't happening.
Theo was next to her, lying on his back, pretending to sleep. Her phone lit up on the nightstand again. Alex. She sighed and turned her face down. “What is he saying?” Theo asked, his voice low. She turned to face him. “I haven't opened it yet.” “Why not?” His voice barely whispers. Olivia blinked slowly, her throat tightened. “Because I don't want to talk to him or have anything to do with him.” Her voice cracked as she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She was trying her best to hold back her tears. But, the minute Theo reached out for her and pulled her into a hug, it became impossible. A small tear rolled down her cheek, then another. Theo used his thumb to clean her face and held her tighter. “It's okay.” He whispered. And for the first time that night, she believed it. –– When she opened her eyes the next morning, the first thing she saw was Theo, still sleeping. His arm was wrapped around her waist, her face on his shoulder. For a few minutes, she just lay there, enjoying the quiet and calmness while watching him. Then he stirred. “You're staring.” He said, eyes still closed. “I'm not.” He opened his eyes. “It's okay, you can't resist me, I know.” “You wish.” She muttered, brushing her hair back with her fingers. Olivia's phone buzzed again. Theo sighed. “He has probably left you a hundred messages, at least read them.” She shook her head and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I have to get ready for work.” He rolled onto his back, arm behind his head.“I think I should start charging you for emotional support, human pillow, I'm running a full service.” “You’ll pay for making me share my bed too.” “Okay.” She blinked. “Okay?” “Yeah. Do you like Italian?” She furrowed her brows. “What?” “I'm taking you out tonight.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You're joking.” “I'm not.” She hesitated. “Oh wow! Ummm….sure.” “I'll pick you up at seven.” “Okay.” She said with a small smile tugging at her lips. –– By the time she finished taking her bath, Theo was gone and he left a note on her lamp stand See you tonight. She stared at it longer than necessary, smiling. Her morning routine moved slower than usual. She couldn't stop replaying the events of things from last night. And the worst part? She likes it. She enjoys the attention. It's almost as if Alex doesn't exist anymore. She finished dressing in her usual, black pants trousers, a blue blouse and black heels. Grabbing her keys, she made her way to the front steps and into her car. She dropped her bags on the passenger's seat, took out her phone and dialled Ella's number. It rang twice. “Look who decided to return my call.” “I'm sorry,” Olivia said, pulling out of the driveway. “I wasn't just in the mood to talk to anyone last night.” Ella's voice softened a little. “Because of Alex?” “Yeah,” she exhaled. “Sorry.” Olivia paused. “Theo came to my house last night.” “What?!” Ella's voice jumped. “Theo showed up at your house?” “Yeah. He stayed the night and then he invited me to dinner. Tonight.” “He stayed the night?” Ella squealed. “We shared the bed.” She said casually. “Oh my fucking days!” Ella was grinning through the phone. “I know right.” “So did you enjoy it?” “Yeah, I did.” A smile tugged at Olivia's lips. “So, what are we wearing for dinner tonight?” “I have no idea.” The conversation kept going till Olivia arrived in the parking lot of the office's building. “Babe, I just arrived at work. I'll call you later.” She ended the call. The smile on her face from her call with Ella lingered on her face till she walked into the building and saw him standing next to her office. The smile vanished. Alex. Her stomach clenched. He looked up the minute he saw her. “Hey.” Olivia used everything in her power to stop herself from breaking down because she couldn't stand him. “What are you doing here?” She asked, flat. “I came to talk to you.” “There's no need for that.” She kept walking. He stepped in front of her before she could reach the door. “Please, just five minutes.” She hesitated. “Okay.” He stepped aside, clearing the path for her as she pushed the door open and walked in without waiting for him. She dropped her bag on her desk, crossing both legs and arms and leaning on her desk. “Well?” She said, “You look beautiful.” She blinked. “You think this is a joke?” “No. I'm sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I just….I didn't come here to fight. I've been thinking about everything from the party the other day and.…..I messed up.” She let out a bitter laugh, rolling her eyes. “Understatement.” “I know. I'm not here to justify anything.” He stepped forward. “Just tell me what to do so that I can fix this. Us. I miss you, Liv.” She tilted her head. “Okay then. Let's start with why? Why did you lie?” “I didn't.” He replied fast. She scoffed. “Okay. Get out of my office.” “Wait,” he sighed. “I only pretended to see if you love, it was a test, I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear.” Her eyes flared up in anger. “A test? The test isn't for three years. You have no excuse. Please leave.” “Please,” he moved closer. “Liv, you have no idea of how much I cherish those three years I spent with you. I love you, Liv. And I promise you, no more secrets.” Her gaze hardened. “No more secrets?” “Yeah.” “So, you have nothing else to tell me?” He shook his head. “No. Except that I'm sorry.” She paused. “Wow.” “What?” “So you just looked me in the face and lied to me. Again.” “Liv–” “When were you going to tell me that we share a mom?” She snapped. Alex froze. “You—” All the tears she had been holding in finally let loose. Alex tried to comfort her but she screamed. “Stay away from me.” “Liv, I—” She cut him off. “I don't want to hear anything from you anymore. Please, just leave.” “Liv–” “Get out!” “Liv, she is not your mother!” “What?” She whispered, barely able to breathe. Alex swallowed. “She's not your real mom.”OLIVIA’S POV.I had never thought that I'd see the day that I would be standing in the middle of the room I once called home. My former sanctuary. I've been wallowing in the past, and when I had relived the death of my father, I thought, "What wouldn't I re experience." But this came a shock to me. It feels like I'm starting my life all over again. From when I was little to Daniella and I and now this. Important pieces of my life that have shaped me into who I am. Five years ago, I would have killed to be in this house. But now, it is a reminder of my past mistakes, my burden, the genesis of everything. Where Alex and I once lived. Tears roll down my eye as I look around the room. Every piece of furniture, ever painting, every item in this apartment had a memory attached to it. A floorboard creaks behind me, though I know no one is there.I turn anyway, half expecting Alex to stroll in with that crooked grin, a plastic bag of gas station snacks swinging from his wrist.But nothing
I apologise for the ridiculously long chapters earlier, I didn't want to drag on a few emotions into other chapters. Bear with me.
THEO’S POV. The office is a sheet of glass suspended over rain. From my desk, the city lies below in streaks of wet neon tail lights stretched into red ribbons, tower cranes blinking against low clouds. Rain needles the windows hard enough to blur the skyline, soft enough to keep me anchored here. The building’s HVAC hums like a low tuned cello. Everyone else has gone home; their absence presses into the carpet, the silence between elevator chimes. Only the cleaning crew remains, and a faint vacuum drone several floors down. Midnight is closing in, and I’m still wired. Two monitors spill light across the desk. One shows the quarterly projections; the other, a chain of emails from Singapore where it’s already morning. Contracts to revise, numbers to grind. I roll my shoulders, feel the knots tighten instead of loosening. The rain sharpens. Each drop hits the glass with a muted click. The sound is strangely soothing steady percussion under the restless city beat. I rub my eye
OLIVIA’S POV I am walking into the unknown. I just kept moving. The air carries the sharp tang of disinfectant and something warmer, like linen that’s been ironed. The corridor stretches ahead in a straight, endless line. White walls. Square ceiling tiles. Every few feet, a framed print: muted landscapes, washed-out blues, and greens. Someone once decided these pictures would soothe people waiting for good news or bracing for bad. I glide past the first door. A low hum seeps through, the quiet murmur of nurses’ voices. The sound folds around me like a thin blanket. A cart squeaks somewhere far off, rubber wheels over linoleum, and the faint hiss of an oxygen line whispers from behind a closed curtain. All of it is so ordinary that it borders on comforting. I trail my fingertips along the wall. The paint is cool and faintly gritty. My nails make the lightest rasp, a sound swallowed by the overhead buzz of fluorescent bulbs. I pause beneath a vent, feeling a soft breath of ai
Daniella’s POV The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the light, sliding through the blinds. The second thing was the knot in my neck from sleeping half-sitting against the arm of the couch. Sometime during the night I’d given up on the bed and drifted off here, still in yesterday’s T-shirt, the phone that had stolen most of my sleep facedown on the coffee table. I lay still for a minute, listening. The building hummed its usual morning soundtrack, a pipe clanking as someone showered upstairs, the muffled scrape of a neighbour’s chair, a distant car horn. The phone was within reach. I didn’t touch it. Instead, I forced myself upright, stretching until my shoulders popped and padded to the kitchen. The tiles were cold under my bare feet, a small shock that helped shake off the fog. I filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Last night’s text hovered at the edge of my mind anyway. I’d read it three times before finally setting the phone face-down, telling
Daniella’s POV The hospital doors slide apart with a hiss . I step inside, and the smell of disinfectant rushes up, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat. It’s the same sterile mix I’ve come to know over the past weeks, bleach and cold air and the faint hum of machines, but today it pricks at my nerves like static. My boots squeak on the polished floor. Each step echoes louder than I expect. I tell myself it’s just the acoustics. The front desk sits beneath a broad fluorescent halo. A nurse in powder-blue scrubs glances up from her screen. Her smile is small and polite. “Good afternoon. Visiting?” she asks. “Yes. Olivia Harichi,” I say, the words catching slightly in my throat. “She’s in ICU, room 411.” She types quickly, fingers whispering across the keyboard. “ID, please.” I slide my license across the counter, and while she checks it, my gaze keeps snagging on the elevator behind her. The doors open, close. Families step out clutching flowers, overnight bags, an