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Crystal Clear
Last Updated:
2025-09-28 04:31:56
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Latest chapter
Until I Wrote Him ☺️☺️What Healing Feels Like
Chapter 35 India's POVThe first thing that strikes me when I step into Elysia Spa is how silence can be sensual.Not empty, but charged, like a breath held too long. The faint sound of water trickling somewhere distant, a low hum of ambient music that seems to vibrate in my bones. And then, the scent, jasmine and sandalwood, clean but intimate, like skin warmed by sunlight.The air feels different here. Slower. Like the world outside, the doctor’s office, the diagnosis, the anxious tangle of my thoughts has been sealed off behind those glass doors.The receptionist greets me with a smile so perfectly symmetrical I wonder if it’s practiced in the mirror. “Welcome to Elysia, Miss Seethal. You have the Serenity Experience booked?”Her voice has that polished calm only people in five-star sanctuaries seem to master. I nod, taking the glass of cucumber water she offers, it’s cold enough to sting slightly as it slides down my throat.“Suite Eleven,” she say
Until I Wrote Him ❤️❤️❤️Self Love Part One ❤️❤️❤️
Chapter 34 India's POV The morning air feels too clean for how messy I feel inside.It’s one of those crystalline New York mornings where everything seems too sharp, the sky rinsed pale blue, the pavements wet from an early wash, glass towers catching sunlight like they’re showing off. There’s movement everywhere, a woman hurrying with coffee, a man on a call that sounds like an argument disguised as ambition, taxis weaving through lanes like impatient wasps.And in the middle of it all, me.Still. Hesitant.Standing in front of a set of glass doors that shimmer with my reflection, the letters Veridian Medical Group etched elegantly across them.My reflection looks competent enough, black cigarette trousers, ivory silk blouse, gold hoops small enough to seem tasteful, and hair twisted neatly at the nape. But beneath that calm exterior is the tremor. The one at the corner of my mouth, the slight unevenness in my breathing, the q
Until I Wrote Him 😔😔One step forward, Two steps back!
Chapter 33 Roman's POV New York hums like a restless pulse beneath the city’s skin, a constant rhythm of honking taxis, murmured deals, and perfume laced with ambition. My car slides through it effortlessly, black glass cutting through morning glare, my reflection barely visible in the window. It’s better that way.I prefer to watch, not to be seen.The city always smells of money and something sweeter, like temptation bottled and sold in glass towers.I roll my cuff higher, glance at my watch. 9:03 a.m. I’m not late. I never am. India Seethal doesn’t know that about me yet that I arrive like the weather. Quiet, inevitable, and occasionally destructive.Ferrol’s driving is smooth, nearly soundless, as we turn onto the narrow street where her workspace stands, the one with the blush brick facade and tall windows that stretch like the throat of something beautiful and private.I’ve passed it before, once. At night. The lights
Until I Wrote Him The Air Left The Room!
Chapter 32 India's POV My car rolled to a slow stop in front of the workspace, my so-called “creative nest,” though today it felt like a sterile monument to the life I pretended to have control over. Through the tinted window, I could see the reflection of the city, tall glass towers blinking awake, cabs slicing through puddles, the first breath of caffeine-hungry commuters.“Miss Seethal,” my driver’s voice floated back softly, breaking the silence. “We’ve arrived.”I blinked, dragging my gaze from the window. “Thank you, Daniel.”My tone came out too even, the polished kind of calm that only hid exhaustion.On my lap sat the yellow tote bag, half-zipped, bulging with loose scraps of paper. Scribbles from last night. Half-thoughts. Emotional shrapnel. Every note was an echo of the same disbelief: You’re not pregnant, you have a cyst.My handwriting had trembled through that sentence until it became barely legible.I pressed my fingers against the tot
Until I Wrote Him Just Got Exciting
Chapter 31 Roman's POVThe moment Monica walked out of the club, the air changed.It wasn’t immediate, not loud or theatrical but something subtle, like the world had exhaled and forgotten to breathe again.I sat there, in that booth drowned in purple light and cigarette haze, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. One held a glass of whisky that had long stopped being cold. The other rested on the seat beside me, fingers splayed, unmoving as if I were anchoring myself to reality.The word still echoed.Ovarian cyst.It didn’t sound real. Not because I doubted the diagnosis, Dr Mayer wasn’t the kind of woman who got medical facts wrong but because of what it meant.India Seethal wasn’t pregnant.The thought repeated itself, dull and heavy, like the bass pulsing from the dance floor below.I’d braced myself for chaos, for responsibility, for the storm that would come from the kind of mi
Until I Wrote Him Who Do You Call...
Chapter 30 India's POV The walls felt closer tonight.My bedroom which was once my sanctuary had transformed into a cage, its pale cream paint suddenly harsh under the dim yellow light of the bedside lamp. Shadows gathered in the corners like conspirators, whispering truths I wasn’t ready to hear.And in my hands… that slip of paper. That word.Ovarian cyst.I blinked at the letters, expecting them to rearrange themselves, to admit it was all some mistake of eyesight or lighting. But the word stayed stubborn, permanent, stamped into my reality like a brand.A knot twisted in my stomach, not just from the diagnosis but from the silence that had delivered it. Silence dressed in Monica’s face. Silence mixed with a hint of pity coated her professional face making me wonder if it was truly my mother.My mother was as persistent as me and would've forced me to have a conversation with her but all she did was a meagre attempt and n
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