MasukThe courtroom was quiet in the way places of obligation always were—sterile, indifferent, unmoved by the weight of human decisions. The walls were cream-colored, the air faintly stale, and the ceiling fan rotated lazily as though it had no enthusiasm for what was about to take place.Roy sat stiffly beside Karen.His suit was perfectly tailored, dark and expensive, but it hung on him like a borrowed skin. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed straight ahead as though looking anywhere else might undo the resolve that had been forced upon him. He hadn’t slept well in days. The nights had been long, filled with thoughts he refused to complete and memories he wished would stop resurfacing.Karen, on the other hand, looked… composed.She wore a simple cream dress—not white, not bridal, just respectable. Her makeup was soft, almost deliberate in its modesty, and her lips curved into a small smile that never quite reached her eyes. She sat upright, hands folded neatly in her
The work trip finally came to an end on a quiet Friday morning.Diane stood at the airport terminal with her handbag slung over one shoulder, watching people move past her in a blur of suitcases, coffee cups, and hurried goodbyes. The past few days had been intense—meetings, presentations, late-night revisions—but somehow, through it all, Ethan had been there. Not in an intrusive way. Not overly forward. Just… present.“Ready?” Ethan asked, pulling his small suitcase beside her.She turned and nodded. “More than ready. I miss my bed.”He chuckled. “Same here. Hotels are nice until day three. Then everything starts feeling unfamiliar.”They boarded the same flight, seated a few rows apart. Still, every now and then, Diane would feel his eyes flick toward her, checking in, offering a small smile. It was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected—especially after everything she’d been through.When the plane landed back in the city, evening light spilled through the airport windows. Diane b
The conference room on the seventh floor buzzed with low conversation, the soft clink of coffee cups, and the rustle of papers being shuffled into neat folders. Diane adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder as she stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room instinctively—not looking for anyone in particular, just grounding herself.Work has become her refuge lately. Predictable. Structured. Safe.She found an empty seat near the middle row and sat, exhaling softly as she pulled out her notebook. The glass walls reflected the grey London afternoon, rain streaking gently down the windows like thin, nervous lines.“Excuse me.”The voice was familiar.Too familiar.Diane stiffened before she even turned.When she did, her breath caught.Chloe stood there, impeccably dressed as always—cream blazer, soft curls falling effortlessly over her shoulders. Her smile was wide, practiced, almost theatrical. And beside her—Damian.Her chest tightened.He hadn’t changed much. Same sharp ja
Diane’s ride back to the office was quiet but not uncomfortable.Ethan didn’t pry. He asked about her day, her project, the client she’d been working with. Ordinary questions. Grounding ones. She answered, gradually relaxing, the tension easing from her shoulders.At the office, she thanked him again before heading inside.“Anytime,” he said. “Truly.”She smiled—small, but genuine—and walked away.The office emptied itself slowly, the way it always did on Fridays—chairs scraping back, muted laughter near the elevators, the low hum of computers powering down. Diane sat at her desk longer than she needed to, pretending to reread an email she already knew by heart. Her leg no longer ached the way it once had, but sometimes, when the day had been particularly heavy, she swore she could still feel the ghost of pain there—like a reminder of how abruptly life could tilt.She exhaled, closed her laptop, and slipped her bag over her shoulder.Lunch had been rushed earlier, barely a sandwich ea
The lunch hour rush spilled into the streets like a restless tide.Diane stepped out of the glass doors of her office building, her tote bag slung over one shoulder, her phone tucked under her arm. The late afternoon air was crisp, London doing what it always did—moving fast, indifferent, alive. She had promised herself she wouldn’t eat at her desk again. Small promises mattered now. They gave her structure. Control.She walked a few steps, eyes scanning for the café across the street—And then she collided with someone.“Oh— I’m so sorry—” she began automatically, already stepping back.The voice that answered froze her in place.Roy hadn’t planned to be there.The café was just off the main road, tucked between a florist and a quiet bookstore—one of those places people wandered into when they wanted to be alone but not lonely. He’d stepped in absentmindedly, more out of habit than hunger, ordered a black coffee he hadn’t touched, and sat near the window, watching the city move while
Karen 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







