LOGINBETTYOutside of that, Lucy is back from London, exactly as loud and vibrant as she was before she left, slipping back into my life as if no time had passed at all.She is still with George, still as annoyingly perfect as ever, and the four of us have fallen into a rhythm of double dates, late dinners, and conversations that stretch longer than they should.And sometimes, when I sit back and watch it all unfold, Grace, laughing at something completely ridiculous, Lucy rolling her eyes dramatically, George trying to keep up, and Rhys looking at me like I am something worth holding onto, I catch myself thinking the same thing over and over again.This feels like a dream. The kind you do not want to wake up from.But I push that thought away every time it surfaces, refusing to let old fears dictate what I have now, refusing to let shadows from the past creep into something that has taken so much effort to build.I deserve this. We deserve this. And for the most part… I have allowed mysel
BETTYIt’s been three whole months since I walked out of Blackwell estate with Grace’s hand in mine and suitcases that felt heavier than they had any right to be.If someone had told me back then that I would be standing here now, breathing easier, thinking clearer, living without that constant weight pressing down on my chest, I would have laughed in their face because nothing about that day felt like the beginning of something good.And yet… here I am.Living in Rhys’s building with Grace has been amazing, in a way that almost feels dangerous to admit out loud.Like if I say it too confidently, the universe might hear me and decide to correct it.Grace struggled more than I allowed myself to fully acknowledge in those first few days because if I had sat with it for too long, I might have broken under the weight of what I had done.There were tears that came out of nowhere, small at first and then louder when she realized they were not going to magically stop the change.Then there w
Hi guys....I’ve been seeing the comments wondering if the story has ended, and I just had to come in here and say, absolutely not. Not even close.We are far from done with this story, I promise you that.I just took a tiny breather to reset, clear my head, and come back stronger because you guys chapters that hit, not rushed ones that don’t do the story justice.I owe you nothing but my best work.I’ll be back very soon, and we’re going right back into consistent updates. No disappearing acts, no leaving you hanging like that again.Thank you for your patience, your loyalty, and your engagement. I'll see you soon, besties!🤍
BETTYThe rest of the way, I go over the plan in my head one more time, repeating each step until it feels real, solid, possible.Accept Rhys’s help. But only until we find our own place. Take on more work to keep Grace in that worldly expensive school because she needs at least one part of her life to be stable.Build a new life. Find peace, and lastly, find a new way to be happy.My fingers loosen slightly around the steering wheel as I repeat it in my mind, until I pull up outside the building with Rhys’s club and convince myself I can do this.The building rises in front of me, sleek and dark against the brightening morning sky, the large sign still dim now that the club has closed for the night.The street is quiet, but is that kind of quiet that comes after chaos, when the city is catching its breath before starting all over again.Rhys is already outside waiting for us, and the mere sight of him makes something in my chest ease.He stands near the curb with his hands entwined b
BETTYAs the estate gates begin to disappear behind me, my chest finally caves in, and my fingers tighten around the steering wheel until my knuckles ache beneath the strain.I try to keep my eyes forward, force them there, but every few seconds they betray me, drifting upward toward the rearview mirror where I can still see it. Everything we are leaving behind.The black iron gates. The winding driveway. The endless stretch of green, and the roof of the only home Grace has ever known.A sharp breath catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. Hard. Because we are not just leaving the walls and rooms behind.I am leaving Harriette’s voice calling for breakfast in the garden. Grace’s laughter bouncing through those endless halls. Movie nights in the guest house. And I had somehow started building without realizing it.I blink hard and drag my eyes back to the road before the tears threatening behind them spill over.This isn’t how I thought the morning would go.I left the guest house
NATHANIELGrace is still in her pajamas, and the sight of her alone nearly brings me to my knees.Her tiny pink shirt is twisted from sleep, one shoulder slipping free beneath the mess of dark curls flattened on one side of her head and springing wildly on the other.Betty guides her carefully down each step.Her eyes are swollen with sleep, her lashes clumped together, her cheeks pink and warm from the bed she has clearly been pulled from too soon.The confusion etched across her little face is so pure, so innocent, that something inside my chest tightens with such brutal force I have to part my lips and force air into lungs that suddenly refuse to work.She rubs at one eye with the back of her hand and blinks blearily into the morning light spilling through the windows, looking around the foyer as though trying to understand why everyone is awake, and why the house feels wrong.Finally, she sees me. Then Harriette. And I watch her little brows pull together, the confusion deepening.
NATHANIEL.Something has shifted in the house since she left.Not enough to disrupt the routine, but just enough to make everything feel slightly out of place, like a painting hung a fraction too low on the wall.Harriette still spends her mornings in the garden, walking the paths with her cane, in
BETTYSomeone is calling my name from the bar while two servers argue over tray placement near the entrance.The lighting technician is asking if we’re committing to warm gold or neutral white, and the DJ wants confirmation on whether the sound check can start early.All of it is colliding at once
NATHANIEL.It has been almost three weeks since Betty and I made a deal, and in that time, she has become a ghost inside her own house.She’s been doing everything possible to avoid crossing paths with me. Moving through the estate with the kind of precision that suggests planning rather than coinc
NATHANIELThe divorce papers are clenched in my hand, my grip tight enough that the edges bite into my skin.She should be packing by now, or at least doing something with her newfound freedom.Instead, the bed is neatly made, smoothed down to perfection, the pillows aligned, her clothes still hang







