I've always loved birds. They remind me of the freedom I never had. I've always wished for the ability to fly away from the misery of my life like those birds. But right now, there's nothing in the world which I hate more than birds. I scramble around the bed to look for pillows. A sigh of relief leaves my mouth as soon as I grab two pillows and put them beside my ears. My head is pounding and the chirping noise of the birds isn't helping one bit. “Stop it.” I groan out in desperation, rolling to my left side. “Please.” I mumble as if birds would acknowledge my pleas, “I need sleep.” I continue to whine. But these birds take no mercy on me. Closing my eyes tightly, I try my best to grab some sleep. I don't know why it's hurting so bad. It's very rare for me to get sick. However, it's not the time to inspect the reason. Just when I'm about to ignore the loud noises of the birds, I can hear footsteps inside my room. “Who is it?” I ask myself, panicking in my sleep. Apparently, slee
“Can you believe it? He called me to come to his rescue instead of having some quality time with you.” Lailah shakes her head in disappointment after animatedly stating her blabbering. I sip on my tea made by Lailah which soothes my messed up head to some extent. Though her tea is out of the world and is comforting for my throbbing head, her constant rumbling erases all the positivity that it brings. I find myself nodding my head continuously as I listen to her. Before I know it, I zoom out of the conversation and lose myself in my thinking world. Apparently, it's Lailah who helped me out of my dress and into the pyjama set. Embarrassment makes its way towards me as I recall how I accused Elliot of doing something last night. “Are you even listening to me or am I speaking to myself?” Lailah asks, her lips pulled into a cute yet fake pout. Shaking my head, I place the cup of tea on the table, “I'm listening.” I say to her, guilt flashing in my eyes. “Sure you are.” She calls me out
It's been over a decade since my father died in a car accident. I still remember how his limp body in my arms felt. It was him who was devoid of life but I was the one who felt dead. The scene of his bloodied body still haunts me to this day and it squishes my heart until it bleeds. I've lost one of my most valued people because of an accident which wasn't meant to happen. Maybe that's why I'm so anxious right now. I don't want to lose another person. But he isn't someone I love or value, it's quite the opposite instead. “Calm down, Amber. I'm sure he is alright.” Lailah says, patting my shoulder with one hand while the other one is on the steering wheel. Even though I look at her, my gaze is out of focus. I feel like I'm looking at nothingness in front of me and not at Lailah who is shooting me sympathetic looks. Suddenly, I break out of that mindlessness. “Huh?” I asked as I couldn't concentrate on her properly. “It's gonna be alright. Leo sounded calm. If Elliot was really in a
“You should stay with him. I have some work with Lailah.” Leo suggests me before almost sprinting out of the door with Lailah leading his way. I sit there on the chair, turning my back towards Elliot. It's safe to say that he can sense my discomfort and dislike towards him. There is no news of Amber but still I can't digest the fact that her husband is sleeping with other women when he will be planning his wedding in a few days. How can someone be so senseless and unfaithful? My hatred towards him reaches a new record. “What are you doing here?” Elliot has the audacity to ask me that question. I turn back so fast that I'm surprised I didn't get whiplash. He looked bored and offended as if I were the one who talked out of line or did something totally unacceptable. “What do you think I'm doing?” I ask him back, taking a step forward. Maybe it's the adrenaline in my body which is making me so bold right now or maybe it's because I'm already tired of everything around me. Amber is g
“Is it true that Miss Amber Lovelace has cheated on you with another man? Are you calling off the wedding?” I watch a report ask these questions to Elliot through my phone screen. It's not just one reporter, it's almost hundreds of them, circling Elliot around a few steps away from the entrance to his large mansion. People are gathered around like a swarm of ants, all of them wanting to know just one thing. If the rumours are true. I rest my back on the car seat and look at my screen again. But instead of watching the live footage of Elliot being questioned, I focus on the rumour that has been spread. I've seen this photo over a thousand times in the past hours but still I keep looking at it. It's Amber in a disguise, holding the hand of a man who is wearing a mask. His build is different from Elliot's. While Elliot is built like an athlete with his lean yet muscular and tall body, this man looks stout but short. Amber and the man are photographed together at the airport. The photo
“whose cat is it?” Elliot questions, narrowing his eyes at Milo. I panic as if I've been placed onto the hot seat. I schooled my features in front of the mirror a hundred times last night. I know what to say but I can't bring myself to be confident. I knew Elliot would ask this question. My Milo is a big cat. The small white spot near his head sets him apart from other cats. Elliot had played with Milo that day. Of course, he remembers Milo. “It belongs to a friend of mine. I'm pet sitting him for a few days while she is abroad.” I feel proud of myself for not being a stuttering mess and reply exactly what I taught myself. His eyes suspiciously linger on mine for a few seconds. Even if he wants to ask me further questions, he doesn't. That's good. I'm not in the mood to talk to him. I'm already tired. The past two days have been crazy and tiring. Dealing with all the paparazzies and media platforms wasn't easy. Dealing with a moody Elliot and his sexy smirking face wasn't definitel
“What's with you throwing either stuff at me or pushing me?” Elliot groans, throwing the pillow back on the bed. I pay no heed to his anger because right now I'm focusing on getting my breathing right. I was really scared by the locked door. Didn't he see me in his room? Why would he do that? “And…” I take a long breath of relief, “And what's with you getting in unnoticed? And why did you lock the door?” I fire back at him, mirroring his annoyed expression. He takes an angry step towards me to which I reply by taking two steps backward. “Well, if you haven't noticed it yet, it's my room. I can do whatever the hell I want to do in my room.” He argues back, voice claiming down a bit but not his temper. He looks like someone stomped on his toes. “Well, if you haven't noticed it yet, I'm in this room right now, you can't do whatever the hell you want, and you certainly can't lock the door!” I imitate his speech which seems to make him even more frustrated. Just like a child, he cros
Mom's guilt takes the form of sadness eventually, making me feel like the worst person ever. Why did I have to bring it up and ruin her mood? She was so happy. “I miss my twin babies.” She admits, making my heartbeat faster than before.My eyes start to water automatically and uncontrollably. She knew about me and she missed me. But why did she throw me away? This question still remains. “Then why?” I manage to ask, turning her to face me, my voice trembling in the middle of the sentence. “Hey.” She whispers in a tone so soft that I would break if she raised her voice even a little bit. “Why are you crying, baby?” She asks me in her soothing voice, making the ache in my heart less significant. But I'm baffled by her question. Why am I crying? Maybe because I'm the only victim in this situation. While they led a lavish life with their family, I had to fight for daily necessities. Sudden dislike hit me like a bag of rocks. I can taste the disdain in my tongue. However intense this