LOGINDiane’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
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







