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But Please...

Author: MysticAmy
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-16 11:46:41
The house was quiet when we returned. Ethan had gone home for the night, and Mark had disappeared somewhere to rest. Joaquin and I said nothing to each other as we entered the bachelor’s pad, just the subtle sound of our footsteps filling the silence.

I headed to my room, removed the dress, and changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an old hoodie. Comfort over couture.

But sleep didn’t come.

Instead, I grabbed my laptop, the one I used for editing manuscripts, and quietly made my way to the study. The space was dimly lit, peaceful, and for once, entirely mine. I curled up on the chair with a mug of tea, opened Joaquin's latest manuscript draft, and began scrolling through it.

"Too wordy," I muttered under my breath, highlighting a few paragraphs. "Run-on sentence. Better transition needed here."

It was easier to focus on work than to dwell on... everything else. On how he held my hand. On how he said I was the only one he wanted. On how I wasn’t sure if any of it was real.

After an h
MysticAmy

An early update to make up for the late ones these past few days!

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  • Pen & Passion   Nostalgic

    I took a final look in the mirror, smoothed down the hem of my dress, and inhaled deeply. Tonight wasn’t just any dinner—it was my first date with Joaquin. And no matter how much I tried to convince myself it was “just dinner,” the butterflies in my stomach weren’t buying it.As I made my way down the stairs, the low murmur of voices drifted up. I slowed, recognizing them instantly.Joaquin. Javier.My heels paused against the step. It wasn’t like me to eavesdrop, but something in their tones made me linger, leaning ever so slightly against the banister.“Take a breather for once,” Joaquin was saying, voice edged with that quiet authority he carried so effortlessly. “You look like hell. Haven’t you slept properly in days?”“Don’t start,” Javier muttered, dismissive. “You sound like an old man. I’m fine.”“You’re not. You keep running yourself ragged. Even you have limits.”Silence stretched, broken only by the faint clink of glass—Javier probably nursing one of his late-night drinks ag

  • Pen & Passion   More Real

    Two weeks passed.Two weeks of keeping my head down, forcing myself to breathe, to write, to focus.The first few days had been unbearable, the silence of my thoughts constantly circling back to that night—to Javier’s words, his honesty, the kiss I couldn’t forget even if I tried.But somewhere between drowning in manuscripts and staring at my laptop screen until my eyes blurred, I found a rhythm.Work. Tea. Sleep. Repeat.It wasn’t glamorous, but it steadied me.Joaquin, too, seemed to find his balance again. Our interactions became clean, professional. When he needed to discuss manuscripts, he came to me, voice calm, clipped, like a boss with his editor. He didn’t linger. He didn’t push. And oddly enough, that steadiness was exactly what I needed.It reminded me why I was here in the first place. My dream. My writing.And then—like the universe had decided I deserved some kindness—Joaquin began reading my work too.“You’ve got good bones here,” he said one afternoon, holding a printo

  • Pen & Passion   Branded Themselves

    The quiet of Joaquin’s office was exactly what I’d asked for—just me, a stack of manuscripts, and silence. No eyes on me. No brothers breathing down my neck, intentionally or not.But my head wasn’t cooperating. Every time I tried to focus on a paragraph, my mind drifted. To Joaquin’s gray eyes when he asked if he was losing me. To Javier’s mouth on mine, and the way guilt and longing had tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart anymore.I pressed my palms against my temples, exhaling sharply. “Work, Haven. Focus.”The door creaked open.I didn’t even need to look up. Only one person walked into a room with that kind of reckless ease.“Busy, Venny?” Javier’s voice was low, teasing—but softer than usual.I set the manuscript down, bracing myself. “What do you want, Javi?”He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare forearms, his shirt sleeves rolled up. For once, though, he wasn’t smirking like the devil who lived to make me squirm. His eyes were… gentler.“I wanted

  • Pen & Passion   Tasted Like Guilt

    The pad felt too quiet when I let myself back in the next morning. My bag was still slung over my shoulder from Jessy’s, the faint smell of her coffee clinging to my clothes.I told myself to be calm. Normal. I’d left because I needed space—nothing more, nothing less.But the second I shut the door behind me, I knew normal wasn’t possible.Joaquin was sitting on the couch, still in the same shirt he’d worn last night, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed. His laptop was open on the coffee table, but the screen was black, untouched.He hadn’t slept.His eyes lifted the moment he heard me, relief flashing across his face so quickly it almost broke me. “You’re back.”I swallowed hard, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry. I… I stayed at Jessy’s.”“I know.” His voice was even, but low. “You texted. Still—” he exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck “—I couldn’t stop worrying.”Guilt lodged deep in my chest, heavy and sour. He didn’t know where I’d really been before Jessy’s. Didn’t

  • Pen & Passion   The Only Heartbeat

    By the time Jessy’s headlights swept across the street, I was hugging my knees on the curb like some runaway teenager. My heels dangled from my hand, my toes freezing against the concrete, but I couldn’t bring myself to move until I saw her car.The second she parked, Jessy jumped out, hair in a messy bun, hoodie thrown over her pajamas. Her eyes widened at the sight of me. “Haven? What the hell—”I didn’t even let her finish. My throat cracked as I whispered, “Can I stay with you tonight?”Her expression softened instantly. No sass, no questions. She just wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into the warmth of her hoodie. “Of course, dummy. Come on.”Inside, her apartment was its usual cozy chaos—books stacked on the coffee table, half-empty mug of tea on the counter, a throw blanket slung over the back of the couch. She shoved the books aside and guided me down, sitting cross-legged in front of me.“Okay.” Her eyes searched my face, sharp but gentle. “Talk. What happened? Because

  • Pen & Passion   All Three of Us

    The pad was quiet when I padded out of my room, the clock blinking close to midnight. I couldn’t sleep—not after the fight with Joaquin. My head throbbed with every replay of his words, his hesitation, the way he looked like he was being torn apart from the inside.I wanted peace. Just a glass of water, maybe some silence.But then I saw him.Javier.He sat on the couch in the living room, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. The dim lamplight caught on the sharp lines of his face, the scars of a man who’d lived a hundred lives since the boy I knew. Normally, he’d greet me with some sly remark, a smirk that made me want to roll my eyes.Not tonight.He looked… tired. Raw. His dark eyes lifted to mine, and for once, there was no teasing in them. Just something heavy, something that made my steps falter.“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice roughened by the drink.I shook my head, hugging my arms around myself as I crossed the room. “You either?”A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Sl

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