LOGINKaren sat alone in the dim quiet of her bedroom, the city lights beyond the tall glass windows flickering like distant stars she could no longer reach. The room smelled faintly of jasmine—her favorite—but tonight, even that felt like an insult. Everything that once comforted her now felt hollow.The house was unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that made every sound echo—her own breathing, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the soft tap of her manicured nails against her phone screen as she scrolled without thinking.She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Just killing time. Distracting herself.Then she saw Maya.At first, her mind refused to register it properly.She blinked once.Then again.The headline sat boldly at the top of the screen, framed by smiling faces and camera flashes:“Maya Walker and Mike Walker Seal Their Union in an Intimate Court Ceremony.”Karen’s fingers froze.Her chest tightened in a way that felt unfamiliar—sharp, invasive, almost physical.She cli
The morning arrived quietly, almost timidly, as though it, too, understood the weight of what it carried.Soft light filtered through the curtains of the small apartment Maya had shared with Diane for years. The room smelled faintly of lavender detergent and early morning rain. London was grey outside—calm, restrained—but inside, emotions were anything but.Maya lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her heart beating faster than usual. Today was not loud. There were no trumpets, no elaborate gowns, no crowded halls filled with strangers. And yet, it was one of the most important days of her life.She was getting married.Not the grand wedding yet. That would come later. This was the court wedding—the quiet, legal beginning of forever.She turned her head slowly and looked at Diane’s door. For a moment, she simply watched it, as if memorising the sight. Soon, she wouldn’t wake up here anymore. Soon, this space would feel different.Her phone buzzed gently beside her.Mike.She smiled befo
Diane’s legs had healed completely.Not the dramatic, miraculous kind of healing people talked about—the kind that erased memory along with pain. Hers was slower. Intentional. Achieved with stubborn determination, aching muscles, and mornings where she stood in front of the mirror, stretching carefully, reminding herself that her body was not broken anymore.The crutches were gone now.They stood abandoned in a corner of her room, leaning against the wall like relics from a version of her life she refused to revisit. Sometimes, when she caught sight of them, her chest tightened—not from pain, but from memory. The helplessness. The humiliation. The night everything fell apart.But she didn’t touch them anymore.She didn’t need them.Her legs carried her just fine now—up the stairs, down the street, into buses, into a new routine. Into a new chapter.Work helped.Work grounded her in ways she hadn’t expected.The job Mike had helped her secure—quietly, without fuss—wasn’t flashy, but it
Healing, Diane realized, was not a straight line.Some mornings she woke up feeling almost normal, her chest light, her thoughts quiet. Other mornings, the weight returned before she even opened her eyes—settling on her ribs, pressing against her lungs, reminding her of everything she had lost and everything she had chosen to walk away from.She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds of the apartment coming alive. The kettle whistled faintly in the kitchen. A cupboard opened. Footsteps padded across the floor.Maya was awake.Diane shifted carefully, adjusting her injured leg before swinging it off the bed. The crutches leaned against the wall, no longer as unfamiliar as they had been weeks ago, but still an unwelcome companion. She reached for them and stood slowly, steadying herself before moving toward the living room.Maya looked up from where she stood by the counter, her hair pulled back casually, dressed in leggings and an oversized shirt.“Good mo
KarenThe door closed softly behind Roy, but the sound echoed in Karen’s head like a gunshot.She stood there for a long moment, unmoving, staring at the exact spot where he had been standing—arms folded, jaw tight, eyes cold with a resolve she had never seen before. When the silence finally pressed too hard against her chest, she laughed.A short, hollow laugh.“So that’s it,” she murmured to the empty room. “You come here, tear everything apart, and walk away like the villain is me.”She dropped onto the sofa, her hand instinctively going to her stomach. Her fingers trembled.“He says he’ll take responsibility,” she scoffed aloud. “As if responsibility without marriage means anything in that family.”She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, eyes burning.“You think I don’t know what I’m doing, Roy? You think this was all a mistake?” Her lips curved slowly into something sharp. “No. This was survival.”She stood again, pacing now.“I loved you first,” she whispered fiercely. “Before
Roy barely slept.When dawn crept through the half-drawn curtains of his apartment, it found him awake, sprawled on the edge of his bed, eyes red, phone clutched loosely in his palm. Diane’s message still burned in his mind, every word etched into him like a wound that refused to close.His phone vibrated again.Once.Twice.Relentlessly.He didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was.Mrs. Sinclair.He exhaled sharply and let it ring out. A moment later, it rang again—longer this time, louder, demanding attention. With a weary groan, he finally answered.“Good morning, Mum.”“Roy.” Her voice was crisp, firm, already irritated. “I have been calling you since morning. Do you know how irresponsible this is?”He sat up slowly, rubbing his face. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”“That’s exactly the problem,” she snapped. “You are never in the mood when it’s time to take responsibility. Karen’s parents called me again this morning. Your uncles too. Everyone is asking the sam







