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What We Choose to Carry

ผู้เขียน: Krystal Bahmz
last update วันที่เผยแพร่: 2026-02-09 23:06:50

Adrian lowered his head, staring at his plate as if the potatoes could offer answers more polite than anything a human mouth could give. His fingers turned the stem of his wineglass slowly, slowly, until the candlelight began reflecting in restless fragments across the surface.

“I’m not trying to sound defensive,” he muttered. “I’m just… tired.”

I didn’t interrupt. I let the silence work, let him choose where he wanted to start unraveling this thread. There was something different about Adrian
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  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Cracked Floor

    Poppy went back to her castle, placing the pink-haired Barbie on the highest balcony. “Anastasia Sparkle will watch from a safe place. Bunny is the supervisor. Daddy is dino security. Mommy is...”She stopped and looked at me.I raised an eyebrow. “I’m what?”“The queen who gets mad when people are wrong.”Sebastian made a sound. A very small sound.I looked at him. “Do you have a comment?”“No.”“Good.”Poppy smiled, satisfied. “Perfect family system.”I nearly dropped my stylus.I looked back at Daniella’s report, but the letters blurred. Not because of tears. Don’t be dramatic. I was not that sad yet. It was just that the human brain sometimes refused to function when the heart was being dragged across a fluffy rug by a child with bangs.My phone rang.FaceTime.I looked at the screen.Adrian.His name appeared with a small photo of him smiling on a rooftop, his brown hair blown by the wind, his eyes warm, his hand around my shoulder. A photo that used to feel like proof my life co

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Spirit Heels

    This morning, Poppy still wasn’t allowed to go to school.The doctor said her body still needed rest. Her temperature was stable, her throat was better, her cough no longer sounded like an old machine with a grudge against the world, but still. No school. No leaving the house. Not too much activity. Plenty of fluids. Soft food. Medicine on schedule.Sebastian added his Romano version in a flat voice near the living room door. “And she doesn’t leave the house until the person who took those photos is found.”I looked at him over my coffee mug. “Thank you, Doctor Doom.”“Not medical advice.”“Yes. Worse. Advice from a man with security at my gate.”He didn’t argue.Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped since last night. Monaco looked as if it had been washed with expensive soap and a bad mood. The tall windows of the main room were blurred with drops of water, the back garden dark and wet, the stones near the reflection pool shining as if they had been polished for an elegant funeral.And Po

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Emotional Attack

    “Mommy!”I shot to my feet. My hand nearly knocked into the mug on the table, and the half-eaten pirozhki rolled on the plate. My body was already moving before my brain had time to spell panic.“Daddy!”Then the voice rose again, wetter now, louder.Sebastian stood too.The sofa chair scraped slightly against the floor.Rain against the glass, my own breathing, Sebastian’s footsteps behind me, all of it seemed to be pulled closer to my ears.I hurried into the main room.Poppy was sitting in the middle of the big sofa.Not where I had left her earlier, of course. Because even in sleep, that child had real estate ambition. The blanket had slipped down to her waist. Bunny had been thrown to the other side of the pillow, one of its ears pressed to Poppy’s cheek. Her long hair was a wreck, her bangs covering part of her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and tears were already running down both round little cheeks.My chest dropped.“Sweetheart.” I reached the sofa first. “Hey, hey. Mommy’s here.

  • The Billionaire's Regret   A Thousand-Piece Puzzle

    I stood, only because sitting made the room feel too honest. I walked to the kitchen window and looked out at the backyard. Rain clung to the edges of the leaves, dripping onto the stone. In the reflection of the glass, I could see Sebastian still sitting there, quiet, watching my back.“When I left,” I said, more softly than I had meant to, “did you look for me?”I almost turned around.I didn’t.“Yes,” he said at last.My hand tightened around the mug. “For how long?”“The first few months were the hardest. After that...” He stopped. “After that, still. But it got more difficult.”I turned around. “More difficult?”“Your family shut down every route.”I gave one dry laugh. “Of course they did.”“Your phone number couldn’t be traced. Your old apartment was empty. The accounts I knew about didn’t move. Hazel returned every letter from my lawyers unopened.”I could picture it.“Javier?” I asked.“Javier told my people to stop calling before he started considering it international haras

  • The Billionaire's Regret   A Sofa, A Storm, A Sorry

    Poppy went down at nine-thirty.The child fell asleep after refusing the blanket three times, asking twice for Bunny to be “positioned with more respect,” accusing her medicine once of having an aftertaste like “sad apple,” and finally giving up mid-sentence during a speech about why patients should have legal rights to extra cartoons.She slept on her side in my room, not on the sofa bed. Her weight was warm and solid in my arms, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, her long hair tickling my neck. Every few steps, she mumbled something unclear. Something about honey. Something about Daddy Shark. Something about Bunny being “emotionally exhausted.”Salma helped pull back the blanket, set up the humidifier, place warm water on the little table, then retreated with the expression of a woman who knew this house was storing too many bombs, but had chosen to save herself through tea and kitchen work.Now Poppy was asleep.Finally.I stood beside the bed a few seconds longer than necessary. Br

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Daddy Bruise

    “Morning,” I said.Poppy looked at me from Sebastian’s arms, her forehead wrinkling. “Mommy,” she said suspiciously. “Were you spying?”“I live here.”“But you were standing like a ghost.”“I’m a ghost who needs coffee.”Sebastian looked at me over the top of Poppy’s head. His hair was still messy, his shirt still rumpled, the tired shadows still beneath his eyes, but his face was far too calm for a man who had just been crowned Daddy Shark by the secret child of the past five years.“Did you sleep badly?” he asked.I stared at him.“Mommy slept like a dead princess,” Poppy answered immediately, before I could assemble a suitably cruel sentence.“Poppy.”“It’s true. I saw. Mommy’s mouth was a little open.”I closed my eyes. “How observant of you.”Poppy gave me a wide smile, full of yogurt and victory. “You’re beautiful even when you sleep.”“Thank you. That might be the most Belsky compliment you’ve ever given.”“I’m Belsky.” She patted her own chest. Then she patted Sebastian’s. “An

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