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Without Ghosts, Without Lies
Last Updated:
2025-09-16 16:37:55
MysticAmyHere it is, early update! Thanks for waiting and for reading!
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Pen & Passion Without Ghosts, Without Lies
The restaurant was the kind you only saw in glossy magazines—the kind where chandeliers glowed like stars and the tables gleamed with silver and glass. I smoothed the hem of my dress for the tenth time, pulse quickening as Joaquin led me in with a hand at the small of my back.He hadn’t said much on the drive after my question, but the warmth of his touch lingered, and I found myself clinging to it like a lifeline.The hostess smiled, led us to a private corner table near the windows. The city glittered below, a canvas of golden lights, and for once I felt like I wasn’t drowning in pretense.“This place is…” I trailed off, struggling for the right word. “Beautiful.”“Fitting,” he said simply, holding my chair out for me before taking his seat. His voice was calm, but his eyes lingered longer than usual, and something unspoken curled in the air between us.I fiddled with my napkin, trying to ease the tension in my chest. “So, is this the part where I should make small talk about the we
Pen & Passion Maybe...
The valet opened the car door for me, but before I could slide in, Joaquin brushed past, taking the keys himself.“I’ll drive,” he said simply.I blinked. “You? You never drive to these things.”His mouth curved faintly as he held the door open for me. “Tonight’s different. If I’m taking you on a proper date, I’m not handing it off to someone else.”Something in my chest fluttered at the quiet sincerity of it. I slipped into the passenger seat, smoothing my dress as he shut the door and rounded to the driver’s side.The car purred to life, and we pulled away from the mansion lights, city streets stretching ahead of us.For a few moments, there was only silence, the low hum of the engine, and the faint music drifting from the speakers. It felt… intimate. Too intimate. My nerves buzzed, still frayed from earlier.“Back there,” Joaquin said suddenly, eyes fixed on the road, his voice smooth but edged with something I couldn’t quite place. “You were helping Javier.”My pulse skipped. “His
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
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