LOGINHis love is needy and possessive but yet, waits patiently for her broken heart to mend. Her innocent heart is forcefully shattered from deception, lies, toxicity and manipulation leading to a failed relationship and another. A third one becomes a taboo. Every man had something that would leave her regretting and in pains when secrets began to unfold. She develops fear to love and be loved by the right man. It becomes more difficult for her heart to open up when those hideous forgotten relationships hunts her back to her bittersweet past. Her hate becomes more intense. Her coldness mixed with beauty, confidence, smartness and determination makes her more alluring and wanted but how can he gain entry to a violently shut heart and how long can he wait for a flicker of hope? In this love hate entanglement, the outcome is uncertain. While one waits endlessly for a romance that would transcend work relationship the other hopes to forever shut down the desperate yearning to feel genuinely loved.
View MoreKenNobles Restaurant. Her eyes widened, surprised I had brought her here."We are here," Smart announced.She tried to conceal her amazement, but I could tell her mind was racing. She probably wondered how an intern had access to such luxury.Mira shot me a questioning glance as she held my hand at the door. I wasn’t going to explain—and I hoped she wouldn’t ask."You really are full of surprises, Mr. Ken.""I told you."The restaurant was exactly as I had seen it yesterday—quiet and sparse. I led her to the table I had reserved at the farthest end. The waiter approached immediately. Mira’s eyes sparkled as they took in the space."I don’t know what to have." She scrolled the menu and flashed a nervous smile at the waiter.After watching her scan the meal options, I stepped in to help."This is super delicious," Mira murmured, her hand over her mouth. "Honestly, I haven’t tasted an appetizer this good." Her eyes roamed the three-course meal, arranged attractively on the table."You r
Mira Hurray! My last day at Gigs. I arrived earlier than expected, surprising myself with how eager I was to leave. My office was already cleared out, everything neatly packed into a a box—everything except the gift packages, which still left me conflicted. What was I to do with them? Still, I brought a paper bag for it. I took one last look at the small room that was my favorite space for trying out new ideas then shut the door firmly behind me. Last night, I received my email from Voughan. The steps were gradually being completed. At exactly eight, I headed to Bernard’s office. Time was ticking and I wanted to be discreet to avoid prying eyes. Bernard was as stoic as ever, but I never minded. We went through my files and my transfer documents in silence. At some point, I noticed how dim his eyes looked. Perhaps that was his way of coping with my departure. All For the best. As I stepped out, I ran into Ken. Wow. He was early. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” he said, poutin
Ken She was breathtaking from the corner of my eye. She sat calmly, eyes on the road, hands folded neatly in her lap. I had taken in her appearance earlier, but even now, it struck me again—Mira was the embodiment of elegance and quiet beauty. She was the only reason I still lingered at Gigs, even though my mission there had already been accomplished. Bernard had been snooping around, eager to know if I had other assignments. The selection process was over. As for me, staying a week or two longer was simply time to cool off. Once I returned to my seat, there would be no leaving. Every trace connecting me to Voughan had been carefully concealed—except with Bernard so I had watched with mild amusement as Mira fantasized about her entry into my company. She called it the 'apex'. I had heard far more sublime descriptions, yet the word fit. Her joy over Voughan knew no bounds. I remembered how Bernard had considered replacing her with her Clara. Seeing how excited Mira was warmed som
Mira An hour had passed since I got home. The wedding had finally come and gone, but my heartbeat raced rapidly, thundering in my ears. Dad is sick. The words echoed louder than any argument we’d ever had. Every ounce of resentment I had for him vanished instantly, replaced by a raw, unfamiliar fear. My chest tightened. Memories of him—his sharp tone, his unyielding rules, his presence that loomed over every corner of my life—flashed like a relentless slideshow. My father—always controlling, imposing, unresponsive. In our family, he ruled without mercy. And now, the thought of him weak, vulnerable, frightened me in a way I hadn’t expected. Adrian’s words played over in my mind. Pneumonia. The doctors claimed it wasn’t severe, but the full diagnosis wouldn’t come for another month. A month. A month felt like a lifetime. My stomach twisted. What if something happened to him before then? What if he worsened while I was busy with my life, oblivious? The questions clawed at me, and






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