Aria had been throwing away the letters for weeks, refusing to read a single word. She didn’t need to—she already knew they were from Lucien. The handwriting, the tone, the way each envelope felt like a whisper from the past—it was unmistakable. She wanted no part of it.That morning, as she sat in her office quietly eating breakfast, a large, unmarked box was delivered. Its presence immediately unsettled her. She hesitated, spoon frozen mid-air, eyes locked on the package. Something about it felt wrong.With a deep breath, she stood up and approached the box. “What is this?” she muttered, heart beginning to race. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid.Inside lay a mangled teddy bear—its fur soaked in dried blood, one button eye missing, stuffing torn open like a wound. Aria recoiled, a gasp tearing from her throat as the lid slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. She stumbled back, hand over her mouth, feeling the bile rise.Pinned to the bear’s chest was a note, scr
Aria finally drew a deep, steady breath as the investigation about Sophie came to a close. The weight she’d been carrying all day started to lift, if only slightly. Harold quietly offered her a glass of water.“Here,” he said softly. “Drink this.”“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice faint. She took the glass with trembling hands and drank it all in one go, as if trying to wash away the panic still clinging to her.Harold studied her closely. “How are you feeling now?” he asked gently, concern etched on his face. He had seen her shaking—seen the fear she tried so hard to hide.She gave a weak shrug. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice was thin, brittle, barely holding together.Suddenly, Lucien rushed in and wrapped his arms around her. “I heard what happened,” he said, breathless, his chest rising and falling. “I was so scared for you. Are you hurt?”Aria stiffened. She pulled away from him with a sharp breath. “Don’t do that, Lucien,” she said
"You what??" Aria asked, her voice sharp with disbelief as her hand instinctively tightened around Lucien’s. Her eyes were wide, searching her mother’s face for any sign that she’d misunderstood.Her mother, unfazed, smiled casually and repeated, “I said, I want to stay at your house for one week.”The room fell into an awkward silence.Lucien blinked in surprise, then a slow grin spread across his face. He glanced at Aria, clearly amused, while Aria stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, panic, or start protesting immediately.On the other side of the room, Dr. Harold—Aria’s long-time colleague and friend—choked on his drink. He turned away quickly, but the shaking of his shoulders gave him away.“What’s so funny, Dr. Harold?” Aria’s mother asked, raising a brow. Her tone was calm, but the edge in it warned that she wasn’t entirely amused.Harold cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, but the smirk refused to leave his face. “Oh, nothin
The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the hospital driveway. Aria stood just outside the entrance, arms folded, her face unreadable. Beside her, her mother held a small overnight bag and wore the satisfied smile of someone who had successfully hijacked a plan.A sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. Lucien stepped out from the driver’s seat, his white shirt rolled at the sleeves, looking slightly flustered—but determined.“Ladies,” he said, opening the passenger door for Aria’s mother with a polite nod. “Welcome to your temporary royal suite.”Aria rolled her eyes. “You rehearsed that?”“Twice,” Lucien replied with a slight grin, then opened the back door for Aria. “Your chariot awaits, Doctor.”She didn’t respond, just slid into the seat silently. Lucien circled back and climbed behind the wheel.As the car moved through the quiet evening traffic, a soft, savory scent began to drift from the back of the vehicle—subtle but unmistakable.Aria’s mother sniffed the air
Aria stood at the doorway of their bedroom, her gaze falling on the familiar bed. It looked the same as it had before everything had changed, but somehow, it felt different. The scent of fresh linen lingered in the air, comforting yet distant, as if it had been waiting for them to return, untouched by the months of silence. She ran her fingers along the soft fabric of the duvet, feeling the weight of the memories it carried. She could tell that no one had slept there in her absence—at least, not in the way they had once shared it.Her heart squeezed in her chest, a pang of longing and loss she hadn’t expected. The bed still held echoes of them—of late-night talks, of laughter, of quiet moments, now tainted by the tragedy they’d both endured.She didn’t realize she had been standing there, lost in thought, until she heard the rustling of clothes behind her. When she turned, Lucien was already pulling off his shirt. His movements were slow and deliberate, but it wasn’t just the action t
Lucien stood in the doorway of their dimly lit bedroom, his brow furrowed as he watched Aria kneel on the hardwood floor, carefully spreading a blanket out over the rug.“What are you doing?” he asked gently, his voice soft and laced with confusion.Aria didn’t look up. Her hands moved methodically as she fluffed a pillow and placed it at the head of the makeshift bedding. “I’m making my bed,” she replied flatly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.Lucien stepped further into the room, his gaze heavy with concern. He walked over and knelt beside her, reaching for the blanket. “Aria,” he said, his hand brushing against hers as he pulled the fabric gently from her grasp. “Do you really hate me that much?”Her eyes finally met his, and for a moment, something flickered between them—anger, yes, but layered with exhaustion, grief, and the tiniest spark of something softer.“Yes,” she said too quickly, the word slipping from her lips before she had time to measure it.Luc
Cassandra was just beginning her journey in the world of fashion design. After spending time away, she had recently returned to her home country to fully pursue her aspirations as a clothing designer. Armed with a portfolio full of unique and inspired creations, she had been diligently working on a new collection for several months—her first major project since coming back. Today marked a significant milestone: the day her designs would finally be unveiled to the public.As the excitement—and pressure—of the moment settled in, Cassandra turned to her assistant, her brow slightly furrowed with concern."Where are the models our company hired for the show?" she asked sharply, a sense of urgency in her voice."They're ready, Miss Cassandra," Alie replied calmly. "They're in the fitting room, just waiting for your signal."Alie was relatively new to the W Company, just like Cassandra. Both had been hired around the same time, and despite being early in their careers, they had quickly form
My Mysterious HusbandThe church was stunning—of course it was. Chandeliers dripped crystal from high vaulted ceilings. Golden candlelight danced across the ivory columns, and white petals lined the aisle in painstaking spirals.Aria stood at the altar in her champagne-colored gown, her heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with love.“This is ridiculous,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Is this a prank?”“No, ma’am,” the priest said solemnly, not even blinking. “Mr. Vale has approved all arrangements. Including the proxy.”She looked down again and stared at the puppy.A small, fluffy, absolutely ridiculous golden retriever puppy sat at the altar in a custom-tailored tuxedo, tongue lolling out in pure joy. His leash was held by a man in a suit too sharp to be real, possibly a butler. The dog sneezed adorably.Aria turned to her mother, who stood off to the side dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Mom. Seriously. A dog?” she complains.“It’s all symbolic, swee
Cassandra was just beginning her journey in the world of fashion design. After spending time away, she had recently returned to her home country to fully pursue her aspirations as a clothing designer. Armed with a portfolio full of unique and inspired creations, she had been diligently working on a new collection for several months—her first major project since coming back. Today marked a significant milestone: the day her designs would finally be unveiled to the public.As the excitement—and pressure—of the moment settled in, Cassandra turned to her assistant, her brow slightly furrowed with concern."Where are the models our company hired for the show?" she asked sharply, a sense of urgency in her voice."They're ready, Miss Cassandra," Alie replied calmly. "They're in the fitting room, just waiting for your signal."Alie was relatively new to the W Company, just like Cassandra. Both had been hired around the same time, and despite being early in their careers, they had quickly form
Lucien stood in the doorway of their dimly lit bedroom, his brow furrowed as he watched Aria kneel on the hardwood floor, carefully spreading a blanket out over the rug.“What are you doing?” he asked gently, his voice soft and laced with confusion.Aria didn’t look up. Her hands moved methodically as she fluffed a pillow and placed it at the head of the makeshift bedding. “I’m making my bed,” she replied flatly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.Lucien stepped further into the room, his gaze heavy with concern. He walked over and knelt beside her, reaching for the blanket. “Aria,” he said, his hand brushing against hers as he pulled the fabric gently from her grasp. “Do you really hate me that much?”Her eyes finally met his, and for a moment, something flickered between them—anger, yes, but layered with exhaustion, grief, and the tiniest spark of something softer.“Yes,” she said too quickly, the word slipping from her lips before she had time to measure it.Luc
Aria stood at the doorway of their bedroom, her gaze falling on the familiar bed. It looked the same as it had before everything had changed, but somehow, it felt different. The scent of fresh linen lingered in the air, comforting yet distant, as if it had been waiting for them to return, untouched by the months of silence. She ran her fingers along the soft fabric of the duvet, feeling the weight of the memories it carried. She could tell that no one had slept there in her absence—at least, not in the way they had once shared it.Her heart squeezed in her chest, a pang of longing and loss she hadn’t expected. The bed still held echoes of them—of late-night talks, of laughter, of quiet moments, now tainted by the tragedy they’d both endured.She didn’t realize she had been standing there, lost in thought, until she heard the rustling of clothes behind her. When she turned, Lucien was already pulling off his shirt. His movements were slow and deliberate, but it wasn’t just the action t
The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the hospital driveway. Aria stood just outside the entrance, arms folded, her face unreadable. Beside her, her mother held a small overnight bag and wore the satisfied smile of someone who had successfully hijacked a plan.A sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. Lucien stepped out from the driver’s seat, his white shirt rolled at the sleeves, looking slightly flustered—but determined.“Ladies,” he said, opening the passenger door for Aria’s mother with a polite nod. “Welcome to your temporary royal suite.”Aria rolled her eyes. “You rehearsed that?”“Twice,” Lucien replied with a slight grin, then opened the back door for Aria. “Your chariot awaits, Doctor.”She didn’t respond, just slid into the seat silently. Lucien circled back and climbed behind the wheel.As the car moved through the quiet evening traffic, a soft, savory scent began to drift from the back of the vehicle—subtle but unmistakable.Aria’s mother sniffed the air
"You what??" Aria asked, her voice sharp with disbelief as her hand instinctively tightened around Lucien’s. Her eyes were wide, searching her mother’s face for any sign that she’d misunderstood.Her mother, unfazed, smiled casually and repeated, “I said, I want to stay at your house for one week.”The room fell into an awkward silence.Lucien blinked in surprise, then a slow grin spread across his face. He glanced at Aria, clearly amused, while Aria stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, panic, or start protesting immediately.On the other side of the room, Dr. Harold—Aria’s long-time colleague and friend—choked on his drink. He turned away quickly, but the shaking of his shoulders gave him away.“What’s so funny, Dr. Harold?” Aria’s mother asked, raising a brow. Her tone was calm, but the edge in it warned that she wasn’t entirely amused.Harold cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, but the smirk refused to leave his face. “Oh, nothin
Aria finally drew a deep, steady breath as the investigation about Sophie came to a close. The weight she’d been carrying all day started to lift, if only slightly. Harold quietly offered her a glass of water.“Here,” he said softly. “Drink this.”“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice faint. She took the glass with trembling hands and drank it all in one go, as if trying to wash away the panic still clinging to her.Harold studied her closely. “How are you feeling now?” he asked gently, concern etched on his face. He had seen her shaking—seen the fear she tried so hard to hide.She gave a weak shrug. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice was thin, brittle, barely holding together.Suddenly, Lucien rushed in and wrapped his arms around her. “I heard what happened,” he said, breathless, his chest rising and falling. “I was so scared for you. Are you hurt?”Aria stiffened. She pulled away from him with a sharp breath. “Don’t do that, Lucien,” she said
Aria had been throwing away the letters for weeks, refusing to read a single word. She didn’t need to—she already knew they were from Lucien. The handwriting, the tone, the way each envelope felt like a whisper from the past—it was unmistakable. She wanted no part of it.That morning, as she sat in her office quietly eating breakfast, a large, unmarked box was delivered. Its presence immediately unsettled her. She hesitated, spoon frozen mid-air, eyes locked on the package. Something about it felt wrong.With a deep breath, she stood up and approached the box. “What is this?” she muttered, heart beginning to race. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid.Inside lay a mangled teddy bear—its fur soaked in dried blood, one button eye missing, stuffing torn open like a wound. Aria recoiled, a gasp tearing from her throat as the lid slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. She stumbled back, hand over her mouth, feeling the bile rise.Pinned to the bear’s chest was a note, scr
At the hospital, Aria moved briskly through the quiet corridors, her white coat trailing behind her. She had spent the morning making rounds in the post-operative ward, methodically checking each patient's vitals and recording their recovery progress. Her face was calm and professional, but her mind was entirely consumed by clinical notes, lab results, and the ticking clock. There was no time for small talk, no space in her schedule for idle chatter.She hadn’t noticed the buzz among the staff about the arrival of a new resident doctor. Whispers floated through the nurses' station, but she paid them no attention. Aria wasn’t one to be distracted by rumors or introductions—especially not today. Her focus was singular, unshaken.With a patient file tucked under her arm, she turned a corner toward her office, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Just as she reached for the handle, a figure stepped into her path, forcing her to stop.“Dr. Aria,” a familiar male voice said, reading
Lucien hadn’t seen her yet—not at first. He stood near a coffee stall, hands in his coat pockets, looking lost in thought. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he hadn’t slept either. When his eyes finally found hers, his posture shifted. Still. Cautious.“Aria…” he said softly, barely above the hum of the street.She didn’t respond. Her breath came in shallow pulls, her arms tense at her sides. Part of her wanted to turn and run, to keep jogging until she couldn’t feel anything anymore. But her feet stayed rooted to the ground.He took a tentative step toward her.“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, voice uncertain—careful, as if she might shatter at any moment.Her jaw tightened. “Neither did I.”There was a pause. The air between them felt heavy with everything unspoken.“I’ve been trying to reach you,” he said. “The food, the flowers—I didn’t know what else to do.”“You think gifts can fix this?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with pain. “You think any of that can un