Mag-log inHeather is finally living the time of her life. She has always been a badass. And Mihir knew this before he got married to her. Her financial status was the only thing holding her back from achieving everything she finally wanted. He was the only one who brought her down to her knees. After catching him in a compromising situation with her best friend, she threatens him with a divorce and he finally agrees. She knows Mihir wants her back. She swears she would never go back there. One phone call from him is all it takes to bring her back crying to him. But what does he want from her? More torture? Or he doesn’t just know how to beg her to come back? It's up to her to decide what she wants to do with him.
view moreHeather’s POVTime felt endless. The dim basement, with its cold, damp air, seemed to close in on me, suffocating me more with every second that passed. , and my stomach churned from both hunger and rage. But the worst part wasn’t the physical discomfort—it was my mind, playing the same haunting memory on repeat.The moment that shattered my world.The day I caught my so-called husband and my so-called best friend together.***Flashback***The morning had started with the promise of love. Of hope. Of something better.I had woken up early—5 a.m., to be precise. The bedroom was quiet except for the rhythmic breathing of Mihir, who lay beside me in peaceful slumber. I stared at his face for a moment, wondering when things had changed between us. When had his warmth turned cold? When had his love faded into something unrecognizable?I had every reason to resent him, yet today was different.Today was Mihir’s birthday and our anniversary. The day that once held so much meaning, though now
The next morning, Mihir seemed to be in a good mood. It wasn’t something I saw often—his usual demeanor was cold, distant, and unreadable. But today, there was something different about him.I watched from the edge of the bed as he got up, his movements precise and deliberate. As always, his morning routine was strict. First, a workout. He never skipped it, no matter how early his meetings were or how late he had gone to bed the previous night. I listened to the faint sounds of him exercising in the adjoining room, the rhythmic thuds of his push-ups, the sharp exhales as he lifted weights.I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. This marriage was nothing but an illusion, a carefully curated performance that Mihir had demanded from me. There was no love, no warmth, just obligation. But days like this—where he seemed almost… human—made me wonder what went on in his mind.After about thirty minutes, he stepped into the bathroom, and soon, the sound of rushing water filled
Eloise took a deep breath before twisting the knob and opening the door. the weight of Mihir’s words still lingering in her mind. But all thoughts of him vanished when she saw the person standing outside her apartment.“Mr. Dunny,” she greeted, forcing a tight smile.Her apartment agent stood before her, his expression unreadable. He was an older man with grey hair and a potbelly, always dressed in the same faded suit that seemed to have seen better days. Mr. Dunny didn’t believe in unnecessary pleasantries, and today was no different.“Hello, Eloise,” he said, his voice flat and businesslike. “Last week, I sent you a mail regarding your eviction from this apartment, but it seems you ignored it. So I’m here to hand you the eviction letter personally.”Eloise’s smile faltered. Her stomach twisted into knots. “Mr. Dunny, surely it hasn’t come to this—”He lifted a hand, silencing her. His wrinkled fingers gripped the folded paper tightly, his tired eyes meeting hers with no hint of sym
'RING!!'The sharp chime of Mihir’s alarm clock jolted me awake. My eyes fluttered open, but I stayed still, pretending to be asleep. I had learned over time that it was better this way—to observe him first before engaging. Mihir was always an early riser, disciplined and meticulous, even though I knew for a fact that he often went to bed late.I peeked through my eyelashes and saw him already sitting up on his side of the bed, his toned back facing me. He sat still, unmoving, his hands resting on his thighs as if deep in thought. Then, without warning, he inhaled deeply, stretched his arms, and got out of bed. His muscles flexed slightly as he rolled his shoulders and then dropped to the floor, beginning his morning routine of push-ups.One. Two. Three.I watched in silence, Mihir had always been obsessive about staying fit, about keeping himself in peak physical condition. He was a perfectionist in every aspect of his life—his work, his looks, his control over everything and everyo
I close my eyes as I answer the call.“Where are you?” he asks. No hello.“It's only been thirty minutes since Mary Anne called. I’ll be there when I need to be.”“Change of plans,” he says. “Meet me at Cons Cafe.”“Asking me to meet you at your own cafe,” I say, with my voice laced with sarcasm. “
My head hurt by the time I got up. Talon’s hands were wrapped around my waist. If he wasn’t sleeping, I would have totally freaked out. I tossed and turned all night. Coupled with the fact that the bed was tiny. This wasn’t the luxury I was used to. But I was getting a hang of it. I promise. It's
My reputation is at stake as Mihir and I go through what I’m supposed to tell the press. The home phones have been blowing up, ringing nonstop. I’ve asked MaryAnne to disconnect all the wires. He gives me all the details, somewhat disinterested in whatever I’m going to say there. The press needs t
My knees give away immediately. The sight of blood almost makes me gag, but nothing is going to come out of my throat. I curve into a ball, with my knees beneath my chin.What did I just do?The blood continues streaming down the tarred road, painting the ground in red.I feel Mihir squat down to m












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