I'm sitting in Grandpa's room at the nursing home, the faint smell of antiseptic mingling with the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the window. The small table between us feels more like a world of its own, a sanctuary for our conversations. I peel the apple I brought, each slice revealing the crisp white flesh, a familiar ritual that brings a smile to his weathered face. But today, something's off. I glance up from the apple, noticing his finger pressed to his lips, a habit of his when he’s lost in thought. "Grandpa, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" My voice is steady, laced with concern. He looks up, surprise in his eyes, and quickly removes his hand. "It's nothing," he says, but the heaviness in his voice betrays him. "I just feel like I'm not being helpful." The words strike me like a blow. I set down the knife and lean forward, urgency bubbling in my chest. "What do you mean? Just a little ago, thanks to you..." His expression shifts, shock overtaking him
After leaving Grandpa’s place at the nursing home, I head straight to cooking class, my mind buzzing. Today we were learning how to make brownies, and even though I had only recently started the class, I could feel myself improving with each attempt. The scent of baking chocolate hit me as soon as I walked into the room, and the hum of my classmates working filled the air.“Everyone, be careful. It’s hot. Let the brownies cool at room temperature for a bit, and I’ll come around to check them,” our instructor said calmly, her voice carrying across the kitchen. She then left her counter to make the rounds.I fumbled with the plastic wrapping of the ingredients, tearing it open, my focus sharp. Across from me, I noticed the woman working beside me had already pulled her brownie from the oven, the golden-brown surface gleaming. A wave of shock and panic hit me, and I quickly grabbed an oven mitt, slipped it onto my hand, and opened the oven to retrieve my own creation.As I pulled the tra
Later that evening, I was heading to my room, my head still buzzing with the day's events. Just as I reached for the door, I heard the unmistakable sound of it being pushed open. I turned, my heart skipping a beat. It was Amory, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.“Amory!” I gasped. “You didn’t call. What’s going on?” My voice trembled slightly, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.He closed the door behind him, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’m hungry,” he said simply.“What?” I asked, taken aback by his bluntness.“I came to eat. Is there anything?” he said, making his way toward the kitchen.“Wait!” I rushed in front of him, pressing my hands against his chest to stop him from going any further. “Stay right here. Don’t move,” I said, hurrying ahead of him. I had to reach the kitchen before he did. The brownie—that brownie—couldn’t be the first thing he saw.I darted into the kitchen, my heart racing as I spotted the plate holding the brownie. Without thinking,
Amory’s POV**After leaving Emma's side, I couldn’t stop replaying her words in my head. The sharpness of her rejection, the way she drew a line between us, it hit me harder than I expected. The moment I walked out of her place, I drove aimlessly, feeling the weight of everything sinking in. It wasn’t long before I found myself at the hotel where I stayed whenever I didn’t feel like going home. It had become a familiar place, one I retreated to when I needed space.I headed straight for the bar, hoping a few drinks could dull the storm brewing in my mind. Sitting at the counter, I ordered something cold and strong. I stared into the glass, swirling the liquid as if it held the answers to the mess I found myself in. But the longer I sat there, the louder Emma's voice echoed in my thoughts. “This is a fake marriage, after all.” Those words gnawed at me, pulling me under, again and again.Just as I brought the glass to my lips, I heard the unmistakable click of high heels approaching fro
**Emma’s POV**Arriving at the grand hotel’s restaurant, I stepped inside, my eyes darting around as I searched for Fielding. He’d said I would recognize him the moment I saw him, but standing there in the bustling space, I felt a wave of uncertainty.“He said I would recognize him. Where is he?” I muttered to myself, scanning the room, but nothing seemed familiar. The clink of cutlery and the low hum of conversation swirled around me, making me feel slightly out of place.I decided to step outside the restaurant, drawn toward the bridge just beyond it. The hotel was built over water, and the soft flow of the river beneath the glass walkway always had a calming effect on me. But as I approached, something—or rather someone—caught my eye. From a distance, I saw Amory’s unmistakable silhouette. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of surprise and confusion washing over me.“Amory?” I called out softly, the name escaping my lips before I could stop it.He turned, his eyes locking onto min
**Emma's POV**“In the ward… he’s not breathing! If he stops breathing—” My voice cracked, panic tightening my throat like a vice.The doctor and I bolted back to the ward, my heart pounding, each step more frantic than the last. But when we pushed through the door, the bed where Amory had been laid was… empty.“He was right here!” I cried, spinning in disbelief. My stomach dropped, dread rising like a cold tide. What was happening? Where had they taken him?The doctor shot me a skeptical look, his eyes narrowing as if I was playing some kind of twisted joke. Before I could protest, a voice from outside the room caught his attention.“Doctor,” someone called, and without a word, he turned on his heel and left.Confusion clouded my thoughts, and I stumbled out of the room, my legs heavy, my mind spinning. Was I losing it? Had they moved Amory to another ward without telling me? The lobby was a sea of faces, people rushing back and forth, oblivious to my rising panic. I started searchin
**Emma's POV**“Amory doesn’t know you’re here?” Chairwoman asked, her voice casual as she sipped from a porcelain cup of coffee. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a warm glow on the dark wood of her luxurious office. Her gaze, however, was anything but warm—sharp and probing, as if she could see through every lie and every secret.I smiled, keeping my expression neutral. “No. I didn’t think I needed to tell him,” I replied calmly, my words steady despite the tension thrumming just beneath the surface.She set her cup down on the table, the soft clink of porcelain on glass echoing in the silence. She leaned back into the plush couch, crossing her legs. “Good. I called you up to ask you a question,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as they bore into mine.I nodded, feeling the weight of her words even before they fully left her lips. “Go ahead, Chairwoman.”She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling with the effort. “Your father, Smith, asked me to assist
**Emma's POV**"But Mother, that is a bit much. You want the wedding to happen in a month?" Amory's father, Mr. Mantin, asked with a deep, gravelly voice that carried a mix of disbelief and hesitation.His question prompted a sharp response from Amory’s grandmother, the Chairwoman, who was lounging comfortably on the plush couch, her legs elegantly crossed. She was a woman of sharp resolve, and her opinion often held final sway in the their family.“If it’s going to happen, why wait?” she asked, her tone smooth but firm. “Don’t you agree?”Madam Elizabeth, Amory’s mother, hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, a gentle frown creasing her brow. She leaned slightly forward from her seat, her hands neatly clasped in her lap. “But, Mother, next month is way too soon,” she began, her voice soft but filled with worry.Mr. Mantin, catching on quickly, nodded in agreement. “You think so too, don’t you? It’s going to be difficult to pull off a wedding that fast,” he said, his gaze bri