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Whispers from your soul

Penulis: Meeka El
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-11-03 09:50:09

JACKSON

Pathetic. That’s what I feel like. A loser. I’m a man with the world at his feet, and billions in the bank. Still I’m reduced to chasing after a woman who’s probably already moved on to the next party, the next photo op, the next trophy.

I stare at the phone for a while. It sits in my hand, the black screen reflecting my own tired face back at me. My chest tightens. I squeeze it hard in the delusion that it might break, but it doesn’t.

I shove it into the drawer and close it a little too hard. The sound echoes through the room. I tell myself that it’ll all be okay eventually.

A part of me believes it, the other part, not so much. I keep inhaling and exhaling as I squeeze the edges of the drawer, so tight that I can feel my veins trying to escape my skin. Face down.

I can still hear Aurora’s laugh in this room, faint but clear. The high, lilting sound she makes whenever she wins something. An argument, a bet, or my attention. She loves to tease me for eating too slow. She says
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  • The Price Of Her Mercy   The Gala of Influence

    MIRA The crystal chandeliers above us scatter light across the ballroom like a thousand tiny stars, and I can feel every eye in this place tracking our movement. Jackson's hand rests on the small of my back, warm and possessive through the silk of my burgundy gown, and I straighten my spine because this is what we do. We perform. We shine. We make everyone else feel like they're standing in our shadow."Mrs. Meliś, would you mind?" A man in an expensive but ill-fitting tuxedo thrusts his phone at me, his smile too eager, too hungry. "Just one photo?"I smile, the practiced one that doesn't quite reach my eyes, and I lean in beside him while he fumbles with the camera. Jackson moves to speak with a university board member, his voice carrying that easy confidence that makes men want to follow him and women want to fuck him. I've watched this dance for twenty-three years now, the way he works a room like he owns it, because in most cases, he does.The flash goes off three times befor

  • The Price Of Her Mercy   Signs in the Shadows

    MIRA It’s almost a month since Nora’s birthday incident. I freeze in the hallway outside Nora’s room, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Something is off. She’s been shutting me out more lately, refusing to let me enter her room, claiming she needs “privacy” or “space.” I know she’s nineteen now, and I know she’s capable, but instinct tells me there’s more beneath her polite defiance. I take a deep breath and knock lightly. “Nora? You in there?” But there’s no answer.Silence stretches out like a tightrope. I can feel the knot in my stomach almost immediately. Something isn’t right. I glance down at the floor, the basket of her once-beloved pink bunnies now absent from the doorway, they’re gone, all of them. I swallow hard, heart pounding, and slowly turn the doorknob.The room is almost empty. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting shadows across the floorboards. My eyes sweep the walls. And then I see it. Stickers. Nude, provocative, plastered across her walls in pattern

  • The Price Of Her Mercy   Signs in the Shadows

    MIRA It’s almost a month since Nora’s birthday incident. I freeze in the hallway outside Nora’s room, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Something is off. She’s been shutting me out more lately, refusing to let me enter her room, claiming she needs “privacy” or “space.” I know she’s nineteen now, and I know she’s capable, but instinct tells me there’s more beneath her polite defiance. I take a deep breath and knock lightly. “Nora? You in there?” But there’s no answer.Silence stretches out like a tightrope. I can feel the knot in my stomach almost immediately. Something isn’t right. I glance down at the floor, the basket of her once-beloved pink bunnies now absent from the doorway, they’re gone, all of them. I swallow hard, heart pounding, and slowly turn the doorknob.The room is almost empty. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting shadows across the floorboards. My eyes sweep the walls. And then I see it. Stickers. Nude, provocative, plastered across her walls in pattern

  • The Price Of Her Mercy   Shadows in Pink

    NORA I wake slowly to sunlight spilling through my curtains. Everything feels… off. The past night is foggy, like a half-remembered dream, but the hospital smells, the beeping machines, the soft whisper of nurses, they’re all there, etched into my memory. I blink and see Mom and Dad sitting by the bed, eyes tense, hands intertwined.“You scared the shit out of us, Nora,” Mom says, her voice trembling. “Are you okay?”I sit up, trying to piece myself together. “I… I think so,” I murmur. My throat is dry, my muscles stiff, but the doctor’s words echo in my head: the amnesia is temporary. My brain is just catching up after the trauma.Dad ruffles my hair, which still feels a little odd with the weight of the hospital pillow, and says, “You just need to remember your name, your age, where you go to school, your home, and the names of your parents. That’s it.”I nod, and for a moment, everything feels manageable. I remember.Okay miss,” the nurse calls. “Can you say your name?”“Yes. I a

  • The Price Of Her Mercy   The Birthday Nightmare

    MIRAI wake that morning to sunlight spilling across the gardens, the scent of jasmine and rose heavy in the air. Jackson is already outside, hands in the soil, planting marigolds along the riverside path. I can hear him humming, low and private, and I can’t help but smile. We’ve worked so hard to make this place ours, to build a home that doesn’t feel haunted by the past.“We’re making it perfect, Mira,” he says without looking up, tossing me a trowel. “No shadows. No ghosts. Just… life.”I laugh softly, brushing dirt off my hands. “Life,” I repeat. “You mean us surviving every asshole that tried to tear us apart and now living like it never happened?”“Exactly,” he replies, smirking. “But don’t get cocky. Someone always finds a way to fuck things up.”I roll my eyes, but the warmth in my chest is undeniable. For once, the weight of the past feels manageable. We’ve got our children to protect, our home to nurture, and now even the cabin near the river is finished, a small sanctuary

  • The Price Of Her Mercy   Promises and Desires

    MIRAI never thought peace could feel like this. The mansion smells of fresh paint and sawdust, the riverside breeze carrying the soft hum of life around us. Jackson stands beside me, stripping the sleeves of his shirt as he leans against the railing, and I feel my chest tighten with something I haven’t let myself feel in years. Calm, safe, and utterly in love.“Can you believe this, Mira?” he asks, voice low, almost reverent. “All of this… ours.”I shrug, leaning into him, feeling the heat from his body seep into mine. “I can believe it, Jackson. But it still feels surreal. Like I’m dreaming.”He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Surreal, huh? Well, dreams are fucking overrated until you’re living them.”I laugh softly, biting my lip as I study him. He’s older now, a little grayer at the temples, but every scar, every line on his face tells a story of survival, of battles we both fought. And now we’re here, rebuilding, together.We spend the day walking through the

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