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Moving Forward.

Author: Kavira Hiraeth
last update Last Updated: 2025-02-06 20:06:54
°ADRIAN°

"Oh, come on!"

"If you keep yelling, Serena, I might actually regret not including a 'no shouting' clause in that contract of yours," I said, leaning against the wall for support. My voice was clipped, my expression unreadable—a facade I'd perfected over years of boardroom battles and personal disappointments.

But none of that seemed to work in front of this woman.

She stood in front of me, arms crossed as if she was about to single-handedly declare war. Her eyes, however, betrayed more than frustration—they gleamed with determination. Unyielding. Unwavering. But I'd faced worse opponents. Much worse.

"Adrian," she snapped, her voice sharp but quieter this time, as though reining in her temper for my benefit—or hers. "You can't just decide to do this alone. You'll hurt yourself walking all by yourself. And no, I'm not cleaning up the mess when you do."

Yeah, I’ve started walking.

Not very fast, and definitely not steady, but movement nonetheless.

Compared to th
Kavira Hiraeth

Hey lovelies! Thank you for visiting Adrian and Serena, do tell your views on their never ending banter.🌷 your~Kavira.

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  • The Cure Is you   Author's Note.

    Hello Hiraeth Hearts,You made it—to the final page, to the last heartbeat. And I need you to know—this journey was never mine alone. It was ours.Thank you for carrying it. Loving it. Finishing it.Your words, your support, your love— you made this story more than a book. You made it alive.This was never about perfect love. It was about love that’s messy. Real. Healing. Love that comes after pain—and still chooses to stay.I wrote this with trembling fingers and a bleeding heart, hoping someone out there would feel a little less alone. If that someone was you… I’m honored.But this is not the end. Serena and Adrian’s journey may be paused for now, but another story is already rising in the same world—*BETTER THAN REVENGE*A second-chance romance. A calm, calculated CEO who built walls to survive. A fierce heiress with wildfire in her lungs and a family she’d burn legacies to protect. When fate throws them back together, love and vengeance go hand in hand.Follow me on IG: @author

  • The Cure Is you   Epilogue 3

    °ADRIAN° “I’m pregnant.” The words fell from her lips—quiet, but world-shattering. I stared at her. Blinked once. Then again. My arms had stopped swaying us. The soft hum of music that had been cradling the night faded into silence, like someone had pressed pause on the universe. She was smiling. Not her usual confident grin—but something fragile. Nervous. Hopeful. Radiant. I opened my mouth. But no words came, just air. She's pregnant. I’m going to be a father? The realization crashed into me like a wave breaking open something hidden in my chest. “I—I didn’t…” I stammered, voice suddenly foreign to me. “You’re serious?” She nodded, biting her lip. Her eyes glistened. And I— I dropped to my knees. Right there, on the stone path scattered with fallen blossoms and fairy light shadows. My knees hit the earth. Hard. I didn’t feel it. I pressed my forehead gently to her stomach, my arms looping around her waist like I could shield the future growing insid

  • The Cure Is you   Epilogue 2

    °SERENA° I stood just behind the garden door—the one that no longer led to the lush garden I had once spent countless hours tending to, but now, it led to an aisle. A simple, beautiful aisle, lined with soft petals and fairy lights that twinkled like stars. The garden, once my sanctuary, had transformed into a sacred space of joy, love, and promises. My fingers trembled as they brushed against the delicate lace of my dress—my wedding dress. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was mine. Custom-made just for me: ivory with soft lilac undertones that shimmered faintly in the light, as though the fabric itself carried a secret, a promise of something more. The bodice hugged me like a whispered vow, soft but firm, as if it knew my every movement. The skirt flowed out, like petals unfurling, graceful and simple but enchanted in its own way. A soft breeze stirred through the air, carrying with it the scent of lilies—the very flowers that adorned the garden—and something sweeter, something mo

  • The Cure Is you   Epilogue 1

    °SERENA° THREE YEARS LATER I didn’t believe it—not fully—until the dean handed me that scroll and said my name into the microphone. Even as the applause roared and my classmates screamed like they'd just broken out of a decade-long prison sentence, I stood there frozen, blinking under the stage lights like it was all a dream I wasn’t ready to wake up from. But then I looked down. At the degree in my hands. Doctor Serena Cooper. The paper felt too light for the weight it carried. Too soft for everything I’d fought through to hold it. My chest tightened. My throat burned. And suddenly, it was real. I did it. I’m a doctor. And yet, even as the words circled in my head, they felt borrowed—like they belonged to someone braver, someone more brilliant. For a split second, doubt curled its fingers around my spine. Was this really mine? Had I really crossed the finish line after all those nights that bled into mornings, the silent breakdowns in library corners, the battles no on

  • The Cure Is you   A Promise Fulfilled.

    °SERENA° I woke up cold. The sheets beside me, usually warm with Adrian’s lingering body heat, were cool and untouched. The silence around me wasn’t peaceful—it was eerie. No hum of life, no soft rustle of fabric, no faint breathing beside mine. Just an expanse of quiet that made me sit up, instantly alert. The curtains swayed gently with the early morning breeze, letting golden slivers of sunlight fall across the marble floors. Outside, birds chirped faintly, as if the world was trying to act normal. But inside the villa? It felt like time had stilled. Adrian was always here on weekends. Whether he woke before me or not, he stayed close. He’d wait for me, make a sarcastic remark about how long I slept, or sometimes pull me back under the covers with a teasing, "Five more minutes, sweetheart." But today… there was none of that. I slid out of bed, my toes curling against the cold marble. I reached for my robe and wrapped it tight, the plush fabric brushing softly against my sk

  • The Cure Is you   Nolan Hayes.

    °ADRIAN° I don’t know why I’m hesitating. Yet here I am—standing in front of an apartment door in New York, fingers hovering over the bell like it's wired to blow. The city hums behind me: impatient taxis blur past, a siren wails faintly in the distance, someone barks into their phone from across the street. Life moves forward, fast and messy. But me? I’m frozen in this one breath, caught between regret and redemption. It’s been a week since the dust began to settle. Since the sirens quieted, the courtrooms emptied, and the scars—both the kind that throb beneath my skin and the ones no X-ray can catch—began to scab over. Evelyn lost it when she learned about Victor’s death. She screamed. Threw accusations like knives—mostly at Serena. But Fred pulled the video off my phone, and the forensics backed it. Evelyn had to face the cold, hard truth. Serena didn’t kill him. And she had only herself to blame. On sentencing day, Timothy limped into the courtroom—bruised, battered, but brea

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