Lily Thompson
I tore my gaze away from the man standing before me, focusing instead on my daughter, who beamed up at me with unwavering excitement. Her innocence was a soothing balm to my racing thoughts, grounding me in the present moment.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I mustered a smile for her sake and knelt down. "Thank you, sweetheart," I said softly, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately. "But why don't you go inside and start on your homework? Mommy needs to have a little chat with our guest."
My daughter's smile faded for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion, but she nodded obediently and scampered inside, leaving the two of us alone on the porch.
Once she was out of earshot, I stood up and turned my attention back to the man standing before me, the man whose presence dredged up memories I had long buried beneath the weight of time.
"Ryan," I whispered, his name a ghost on my lips as I struggled to find my voice.
He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Lily," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and longing.
For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence was deafening. But then, with a tentative sigh, Ryan took a step forward, closing the distance between us.
"I never thought I'd see you again," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound bitter and full with pain and anger. "Fate," I repeated, the word heavy with irony. "More like cruel irony."
Ryan's expression softened, his eyes filled with an unspoken apology. "I know I hurt you, Lily," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'm sorry. I've spent years regretting what happened between us, wishing I could go back and make things right."
I wanted to believe him, wanted to let go of the anger and resentment that had festered in my heart for so long. But old wounds ran deep, and forgiveness didn't come easily.
“Ryan, I really don’t want to see you here” I said, trying hard to block out all my emotions “please leave”
“Lily, I won’t leave you again no matter how much you push me away. I’ll always be here for you and your daughter” he said sounding genuine but I wasn’t about to fall for the same trick he used years back
“Oh, really, where were you when I needed you the most, why weren’t you there for me” I said, raising my voice, tears almost dropping from my eyes “now you appear all of a sudden and think I’ll let you back into my life, into my daughter’s life? You really must be delusional
My daughter comes back to the porch probably because she heard me shouting at Ryan and sees my eyes teary and instantly knows that something is wrong
“Mommy, what’s wrong” she said, looking up at me
I immediately get on my knees and give her a hug “nothing is wrong, my love. Just go inside, mommy will be with you soon”
“Will uncle Riri be joining us for dinner?” she asked
“Uncle Riri? Who’s that” I asked. Totally confused
“Your new husband” she whispered into my ears and giggled
So, she abbreviated his name to Riri. She looked so excited and it was contagious but too bad I’m going to have to ruin her excitement for our won good
“No, uncle Riri will not be staying for dinner” I said and her smiles and all her excitement completely vanished “he has some work to take care, right Ryan?”
I stood up and looked at him signaling him to agree with me and just leave and he does
“Uhm yes, Bells, I would love to stay but I’ve got some urgent work to attend to. I’m so sorry” he said
Bells? So they gave each other nicknames. How long did they stay on the porch waiting for me?
Isabella ran over to him and held his left leg with her tiny hands
“Please don’t go uncle Riri” she begged “can’t your work wait just for today?” she pleaded
Ryan looks at me pleadingly hoping I'll change my resolve but I don’t. I won’t give him that chance to break me all over again
When I don’t agree, he picks up Isabella “I’m so sorry, Bells” he says and she wraps her hands around his neck and starts crying
I quickly rush over and take her away from him and hold her in my arms. Isabella has always been a cheerful child. This is the first time in four years that I’ve seen her cry. What charm did Ryan use on my baby girl?
“It’s okay my baby. Uncle Riri will stay for dinner” I found myself saying.
Anything for Isabella even if it meant inviting this monster into my house, just for her sake
“Uncle Riri, you’ll stay?” Isabella asked through tears and sobbing from my arms
“Of course, bells. I’ll postpone my meeting anything for you” he said
She was so happy that she jumped down from my arms and gave him a big hug
“Yayyy, thank you. Now come along, I want to show you my room and my toys” she said, dragging him inside
God, I hope I don’t regret this decision
Lily ThompsonI’d made harder decisions in my life—signing away my pride in a contract, for one—but this one still knotted my stomach.College.It should have been simple. Choose a school, enroll, finish what I’d started before everything went to hell. But no matter how many shiny brochures I flipped through or how many “fresh start” articles I scrolled past online, one name kept coming back like a bruise I couldn’t stop poking.My old college.The place where everything began and ended. Where I laughed too loud in dorm hallways, scribbled notes I never got to use, kissed Ryan in stairwells when we were supposed to be studying. Where I first found out I was pregnant. Where he left me.Part of me wanted to torch it, never set foot near those halls again.But another part—the louder, angrier part—needed to.If I can walk through those halls and not break, I told myself, then I’ll know I’m stronger than the girl he left behind. I’ll know I’m not haunted anymore.So that’s where I was goi
Lily ThompsonI spent the first ten minutes after we got home pretending I wasn’t waiting for him to touch me.Which is hilarious, considering I’m the one who keeps swearing I hate him.I paced the kitchen like a trapped cat, opening cabinets I didn’t need, rearranging mugs that didn’t deserve it, pretending the thud in my chest was caffeine and not the echo of his voice saying I am her father. The apartment was too quiet. The kind of quiet that amplifies every memory you’re trying to swallow.He didn’t crowd me. He didn’t chase me. He just moved around the island with infuriating calm—jacket off, sleeves pushed to his forearms, the tendon in his wrist flexing as he filled a glass with water like the world hadn’t cracked in half two hours ago.“Say something,” I snapped, because silence was worse than a fight.He took a sip, watching me over the rim. “What do you want me to say?”“That you overstepped. That you shouldn’t have—” My voice tripped on the word father and refused to get up
Lily ThompsonIf perfect couples were a product, PR would’ve boxed us, slapped a gold sticker on the front, and shipped us to every camera in Manhattan.Hand in hand. Smile tilt just so. His palm warm at the small of my back, mine resting light on his sleeve like I wasn’t counting the seconds until I could breathe again.The event was supposed to be soft press—children’s museum fundraiser, pastel balloons, tiny cupcakes with too much frosting. The kind of room where even scandal puts on a bowtie. We walked the step-and-repeat, did the wave-and-nod rhythm, answered three “How are you holding up?”s and two “You look radiant, Ms. Thompson”s that felt like compliments with teeth.Since the start of our fake dating, Denzol had clawed its way back into profit, and the press couldn’t get enough of us—the picture-perfect couple everyone suddenly admired. People weren’t just speculating about the campaigns anymore; they were wondering when the city’s most renowned bachelor would finally put a
TheodoreThere’s something about Lily Thompson that ruins a man quietly.It’s not just her face, though God knows she has the kind that sticks in your mind long after she’s gone. It’s not just her laugh either, sharp and unexpected, like she’s surprised herself every time it slips out.It’s the fire. The way she walks into a room like she’s already bracing for a fight. The way her chin tips up when the world tries to crush her down. She looks fragile at first glance—but stand too close, and you realize she’s made of iron.And I? I’ve been standing too close for far too long.I tell myself she doesn’t belong to me.I repeat it like prayer, like penance.She’s Ryan’s.She’s always been Ryan’s.But my chest doesn’t listen. My chest clenches every time I see her fake a smile for the cameras. Every time I see her hide trembling hands behind a coffee cup. Every time I catch her staring at Ryan with that wild mix of longing and fury she can’t disguise.It’s torture. Because I’d give anything
Lily Thompson I woke up furious.Furious at him. Furious at myself. Furious at the fact that my body still hummed like a live wire hours after he’d kissed me, touched me, almost had me only to pull back with that maddening calm.“I want to wait,” he’d said, like patience was some kind of gift. Like restraint was the key to undoing me.I should have been relieved. I should have rolled my eyes and laughed in his face. This should have given me time to rethink, get a grip of myself.But instead, I’d lain awake all night, heat pooling between my thighs, my brain on fire with one question: What does Ryan Edwards consider special?Because if this was just about sex, he’d have taken the deal. He’d have stripped me bare and had me against the wall until we were too dizzy to stand.But he hadn’t.And that terrified me more than if he had.The PR team decided today was a “soft image day.” Which basically translated to: let’s parade Lily around in another designer dress while Ryan pretends not
Lily Thompson The storm didn’t vanish overnight, but it shifted.The headlines about me started to fade. The paparazzi thinned out. And the whispers—though still sharp, still cutting—were quieter now, tucked into corners instead of screamed in my face.But quieter didn’t mean gone.Every time I walked into Denzol, I felt eyes on me. Felt people weighing me against my own past, trying to measure if I was worth the air I was breathing in that building.And the worst part? My brain wouldn’t let me stop replaying the what-ifs.What if Ryan hadn’t left me all those years ago?Would I have finished college? Would Isabella and I have struggled the way we did? Would I have been standing here now, the subject of hashtags and headlines, forced to prove myself to people who’d already made up their minds?The questions festered. The anger burned hotter every day.And the fake dating only made it worse.In public, Ryan and I were perfect.Hand in hand. Smiling. Laughing. Whispering in each other’